Reunion
The carriage began to roll forward, fueled by my boredom. To ease the boredom of the three women with me, I decided to tell them all sorts of stories I knew. This must be why people say you should read books. Their reactions were surprisingly enthusiastic. I felt like some kind of storyteller from the old days.
First, I told them the tale of the Records of the Chu-Han Contention, which depicted the clash between the Han dynasty’s founder with the ridiculous name and the hot-blooded, monstrous bastard Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Western Chu. Airi showed interest in the founder with the ridiculous name, Glacia sighed at Xiang Yu’s foolishness, and Camellia said she liked the part where Xiang Yu parted from Consort Yu the most. But none of them showed much interest in the scene I personally loved most—the part where the founder shouted that if his father was being boiled into soup, he’d like a bowl too. That’s the best part, though.
Next came the sequel of sorts, Romance of the Three Kingdoms. It took me two whole days to tell that one. Strangely enough, the three women each supported different factions. Airi rooted for Liu Bei’s Shu-Han, Glacia favored Gongsun Zan’s forces, and Camellia liked the Wei kingdom. As a result, my favorability with Airi rose a little, while my favorability with Camellia dropped slightly. How could anyone like those damnable Xu Province traitors who tried to kill Lord Guan Yu? I guess elves have that kind of culture.
I almost told them about the manga I used to enjoy—the one with the hunters—but stopped myself. After all, I hadn’t read the ending yet, and no one ever would. I also considered telling them Bible stories but gave up on that too. Even though I’d been baptized as a Catholic, I wasn’t devout enough to have the entire Bible memorized.
In the end, the romance novels and manga stories I knew well went over incredibly well. Things like The Sorrows of Young Werther and Romeo and Juliet. Airi pitied Werther, while Glacia mocked him for being a fool. I got the feeling they were glaring at each other while giving their opinions, but I chose to ignore it.
That was how we reached the early parts of The Count of Monte Cristo. The carriage came to a stop right as we got to the scene where Edmond Dantès received teachings from the Abbé Faria.
"We've arrived at the Water Magic Tower."
Right. Time to face her. My childhood friend, and the sins that bastard Werner Alton had left behind.
I stepped down from the carriage. There were quite a few people around. Since we were near the magic tower, most of them seemed to be adventurers who had come to sell monster corpses. There were also plenty of inns and taverns targeting those adventurers. If twenty-first century Korea had station-area districts, this world had magic-tower districts.
Maybe I should buy up a ton of land later and build a magic tower on it? I was pondering that very thought when I bumped into someone wearing a black robe that covered their entire body.
The man dropped the paper bag he was carrying because of me, and the apples inside rolled across the ground. This was clearly my fault. All because I’d harbored that ugly desire to scam people in a redevelopment zone, an innocent victim had appeared.
“Sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment…”
The person in the robe answered.
“…It’s fine. I failed to avoid you as well.”
Judging by the deep voice and imposing frame, it was a man. For an adventurer who sold monster corpses, he seemed remarkably polite. I was certain he was an adventurer because the hilt of a sword jutted out conspicuously from the waist of his robe. The glimpse I caught of his heavily scarred hand also clearly belonged to a swordsman.
I helped him pick up the apples. Even though I was the one at fault, he bowed his head and thanked me.
“Thank you for helping.”
“It was nothing…”
“If the opportunity arises, I hope we meet again.”
After finishing his greeting, he turned and walked away. Adventurers near the capital were this well-mannered? As expected, you should send horses to Jeju and people to Seoul. Even adventurers who normally treat manners like they’re something to eat with rice were this polite… The capital’s future looked bright.
Feeling reassured, I opened the door to the magic tower. An attendant who had been waiting inside guided me to the room where Lorsch was.
“This way, please.”
I took a deep breath and opened the door. The first thing I noticed was the fragrant scent of old books, like you’d find in a used bookstore. It was a smell I personally liked, but now wasn’t the time to enjoy it. Besides, my attention was already fixed on the woman standing in the center of the room.
Clear sky-blue hair that reminded me of a cloudless day. Green eyes that evoked a lush forest. And a body that, while lacking in the chest department, had a slimness that somehow came across as charming instead.
Lorsch had grown from the innocent girl who used to react dramatically to Werner’s every word into a proper adult. She wore silk sleeves that revealed the slender lines of her arms, a crest representing the Water Magic Tower at the center of her clothes, and tight black tights on her legs.
“Huuu…”
Well, you had to be an adult to smoke. Lorsch, who had been puffing on a pipe that would have suited Sherlock Holmes, set it down and turned her gaze toward me.
“…So you’ve come, Werner Alton.”
I had no idea what kind of reunion greeting I should give her. An apology for the nonsense I’d spouted in the past? A display of joy at our reunion? Or a formal greeting between mages? Fortunately, Lorsch neatly swept away my dilemma.
BAM!
I didn’t need to offer any greeting. The dropkick Lorsch launched sent me flying. If I hadn’t instinctively raised my arms to guard, I might have actually died. Even though I had guarded, the fact that I was knocked flat meant Lorsch must have practiced that dropkick for a very long time. Its power was probably around 985 hectopascals of central pressure and a maximum wind speed of 23 meters per second, right?
Of course, Lorsch apparently hadn’t thought about what would happen after delivering the dropkick, because she fell over with me. She stood up as if nothing had happened and brushed the dust off her clothes.
“You know why I kicked you, right?”
“No…”
Was it the nonsense I’d spat at her fifteen years ago? Or cutting off contact and disappearing? Or maybe the fact that she’d had to fill the void Werner left behind while crying and forcing herself to keep going? There were too many possibilities for me to guess which one.
“…You’re still a terrible bastard. A really terrible bastard.”
Transparent tears had gathered at the corners of Lorsch’s eyes. I was the one who got hit, so why was she crying? Whatever the reason, the person who made Lorsch cry wasn’t me—it was Werner. I was closer to an innocent victim with no wrongdoing.
Still, that damn previous life of mine, Werner, you son of a bitch. You made a woman cry and now you’re leaving the cleanup to me? This fucking bastard shat all over everything, dumped it on me, and ran away. The next time I see you in a dream, I’m going to hit you with a dropkick with 985 hectopascals of central pressure and a maximum wind speed of 23 meters per second. After that, I firmly resolved to follow up with a one-inch punch and a temple strike.
“Disappearing whenever you felt like it… getting hurt whenever you felt like it… and in the end, making me hear that you were still alive through someone else?”
With tears still welling up in her eyes, Lorsch glared at me and began pouring out the words she had kept bottled up.
“Four years.”
“What?”
“The time we spent building our friendship. It could be considered short, or it could be considered long.”
That’s exactly the length of a president’s term. So our connection was severed right around the time a new president would take office.
“Three years.”
What was this one about?
“The time after you told me to fuck off, when our relationship grew distant and we treated each other only in a businesslike manner. It’s the same length as the time we spent building our friendship.”
Because that bastard Werner didn’t apologize for three whole years, I ended up eating a dropkick. The coward should have just apologized roughly and suggested we go drink.
“And twelve years.”
I kept my mouth shut because I understood what that period meant.
“The time after you suddenly cut off contact and disappeared. It’s three times the length of time we spent building our friendship.”
“Lorsch, I…”
“Do you still think of me as a friend? Fifteen years. That’s how long you’ve kept your distance from me. I’ve spent more than half my life like that.”
The words Lorsch hurled at me hurt more than the dropkick she had delivered. Even though it wasn’t a sin I had committed, because it was a sin my previous life had committed, my body still remembered that guilt.
“Every single day I waited for contact from you! At the very least, I thought you would at least send word about where you were! But you… you didn’t send a single message…”
Yeah, I guess it’s all my fault. Since Werner is me, and I am Werner… What can I do about this symbiotic relationship that brings to mind the phrase “I am you, and you are me” from some JRPG?
“And then you go and get hurt all on your own? Do I really have to learn about your well-being through other people? And on top of that…”
Lorsch pointed at my neck.
“And on top of that, I even sent a carriage so you could come safely, and you show up injured? You’re deliberately provoking me, aren’t you?”
I lightly touched my neck and felt blood seeping out. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it looked like something sharp had lightly scratched my throat. Fuck, when did I get this?