Chapter 117
Chapter 117
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: Investigation
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Gray Chasefield was sinking into the depths of her consciousness.
Cold sweat beaded on her skin as she writhed.
In her half-asleep state, images long buried deep in her mind surfaced from afar.
Gray, achromatic ones.
Experiences close to trauma.
-You mustn't come out from hiding. Got it?
-Gray, my daughter.
-I'll protect you, I will-
Memories from when the dragon called a calamity ravaged her hometown.
Scenes from the days when all she could do was cry.
“-”
She didn't know why these were resurfacing.
But there was clearly an image overlapping them.
A man collapsing, blood spurting from his abdomen.
Her own figure right beside him, watching helplessly.
That image of standing frozen, just taking it, must have overlapped with those past memories.
“⋯⋯.”
Even knowing it was a dream, Gray writhed in agony.
When was the last time she'd felt this helplessness?
She didn't think she'd felt it once since properly beginning her training.
It was tormenting.
Even after gaining power close to omnipotence, the very idea that she could still lose someone without being able to do a thing.
Before her gasping breaths, a panorama unfolded of a man possessing vivid colors.
-Lady, you mustn't do that!
-Lady, how was dinner?
-What, the party? Nothing but worthless trash, so it was annoying? ⋯⋯If you'd like, I could keep you company.
Bright figures shining like the sun.
Daily life with this man.
⋯⋯Moments that had made her 'feel' something.
But she plunged even deeper into her consciousness, leaving it behind.
Gradually distancing herself from the man who shone like the sun before her eyes.
Others appeared near the man.
Companions he'd met on his journey.
Vespa, the dragon sisters, Felix. Panhaima.
They all shared the same colors as the man, living humans.
Only.
Only Gray was achromatic.
Unpainted from birth, unable to blend with them.
In that state.
She was drawn deeper into the swamp-like darkness.
Sinking deep, deep into the mire, into the quagmire.
The abyss surrounding her seemed to tighten around her throat.
A whisper she'd heard just recently echoed in her ears.
-Even though you've resolved to confront evil, you mustn't neglect your own emotions. You mustn't feel anything. You need only make the right 'decisions.'
-If you possess something, it will vanish. We'll make sure of it.
The darkness.
Took form and whispered thus.
As if mocking her.
A thing like you.
A damned monster who's lived her whole life unable to properly mingle with others.
Do you think you deserve to enjoy these?
Do you think you deserve to keep someone who shines so brilliantly by your side?
-You must be unhappy, Hero. You must live chewing on solitude, without a single soul nearby.
Gray opened her mouth, but no retort came forth.
She was aware it was a nightmare, so that was part of it.
⋯⋯Even if it were a question posed in reality, she wondered if she had an answer.
She grew ever distant from the people with colors.
No.
-I hate it.
Please, don't leave me alone⋯⋯
As that thought surfaced, someone whispered in her ear.
-Lady.
With that whisper.
The man, who had been drifting away with the other humans in the distance.
Suddenly extended his hand toward her.
He grabbed her shoulder, sinking into pitch blackness, and pulled her toward him.
With the smile he always wore.
-I'll make you happy.
⋯⋯That was precisely when she awoke from the dream.
As Gray's eyes snapped open, someone was indeed holding her shoulder and pulling her up.
“Lady.”
There stood Carlyle, trembling from head to toe.
“I'm truly, truly sorry, but my legs have gone completely numb. I survived a near-fatal injury; I can't have them amputated due to necrosis⋯⋯”
Carlyle tried to continue, but Gray bolted upright and thrust her face right up to his, making him flinch.
Her face pale as a sheet, Gray scanned his body this way and that.
“You, your body—”
“Teacher Beringham said the surgery went well. A few days of recovery, and I'll be fine.”
⋯⋯Truth be told, it wasn't an injury that would heal in just a few days.
He'd been advised to take it easy for quite a long time, no overexertion.
But to reassure Gray here, he figured he had to say that much.
“⋯⋯.”
It seemed to work; Gray visibly relaxed, breathing heavily.
Then.
“⋯⋯.”
Thwack.
Gray struck Carlyle's body.
“⋯⋯Lady, I just underwent surgery for a critical injury—”
As if to say no backtalk, Gray struck him again.
⋯⋯It hurt.
For a body just entering recovery after treatment, the impact was hard to bear.
Not something to do to a patient, but considering what Gray usually did—and how Carlyle would normally call her out—he just gave a wry smile instead of protesting.
If he thought about the level of violence Gray usually wielded.
This wasn't so much anger as sulking.
Even a light, frustrated tap from her could snap bones effortlessly, given her strength.
“Hey.”
“⋯⋯Yes, Lady.”
“Don't die.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯?”
Carlyle blankly turned to her.
What did this person just say?
Don't die?
“⋯⋯Pardon?”
When he asked again, Gray glared at him, huffing.
Her eyes sharp as axes, ears red to the tips.
She looked mortified, as if speaking those words was utter humiliation for her.
“⋯⋯Don't go showing off pointlessly and die.”
“⋯⋯.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯I, I, this time, you almost died, so fixing that made me suffer so much, no, I mean⋯⋯⋯⋯”
She stammered incoherently.
⋯⋯What to say.
She wanted to worry.
She wanted to say seeing him hurt pained her.
But not knowing how, she fumbled, embarrassed, struggling even to voice her feelings.
Too brilliant, too transcendent in power, so he sometimes⋯⋯ no, always forgot.
Fundamentally, she was still a child.
He rarely saw such sides, so he forgot.
But in her tender parts, she was very much so.
‘Hero. I still get surprised sometimes.’
[What about?]
‘⋯⋯You, what hardships did you go through to grow from someone with these traits into that future utter failure?’
[⋯⋯.]
He couldn't see the Hero in the Holy Sword's expression, but she was surely wearing a wry smile.
The future Hero had barely batted an eye when Hero Party members, closer than anyone, died one by one.
That was the person she was until successfully ‘communing’ with Carlyle.
[⋯⋯Meeting you when she was young is this child's fortune.]
Hearing the Holy Sword's voice say that, Carlyle leaned toward Gray.
“I'm sorry, Lady. Did I worry you a lot?”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯No.”
As she said it, Gray rubbed her eyes.
They were puffy.
⋯⋯The Holy Sword had mentioned she was barely sane at dawn, but he'd skip pointing that out.
“Anyway, don't die.”
“Yes. I won't.”
“⋯⋯Don't die.”
“It's okay, it's fine.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯Don't die.”
“I won't die. I won't.”
“⋯⋯.”
Gray silently rubbed her eyes again.
Watching her quietly.
Carlyle pulled her into a hug.
“⋯⋯?!”
He could clearly feel Gray stiffen in shock.
[⋯⋯?!]
⋯⋯No idea why the one in the Holy Sword was shocked, but anyway.
“Lady.”
Carlyle patted her back as he spoke.
“I promise. I absolutely won't die before you do.”
“⋯⋯.”
“I won't make you worry. Rest easy.”
That's right, that's right, Carlyle patted her back again.
What to call it.
It was like a spoiled daughter bawling, so he couldn't help himself.
Paternal instincts surging, perhaps.
And Gray's reaction to such an act.
“Oh.”
Gray let slip those words.
“⋯⋯Oh?”
As he tilted his head, wondering what that meant.
“Oh, ohhh, ooooooh—!”
Gray let out an inexplicable screech and slammed a dropkick into his face.
Her face beet red as she did it.
“⋯⋯.”
No, wait.
Let's make this a touching scene.
That was Carlyle's last thought before losing consciousness.
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