2. Talk About a Stroke of Luck
Five years had passed since I possessed the body of Heizen Fahrenheit.
A great deal had happened in that time, but nothing quite as absurd as today. Thinking I might have misread it, I went over the article one more time.
Having read that far, I set the newspaper down.
"Alia."
"Yes, my young lord."
The second son of Duke Castiel, dead at this exact moment in time? A healthy young man my own age, with no sign of any health problems? This had to be…
"The bastard must have received divine punishment, right?"
He'd racked up original sin the moment he taunted me with "You suck at games?" Then, when that didn't stick, he'd pathetically doubled down by threatening my real life. If the gods truly existed, then surely even that punishment wouldn't have been enough.
"Divine punishment. I suppose that's one way to look at it."
"Right?"
"But I don't believe in gods."
Alia continued as she readied my clothes for the day. "He was a man of great temper, so his body must have been burning hot with rage."
"And that gave him a heart attack?"
"Or perhaps he ate too many rich foods and strained his heart."
It was true the second son couldn't keep his petty pride in check, and true that he'd strutted around like he owned the world simply because he was born into a duke's direct line. But really, what were the odds of dying of a heart attack in your sleep?
Wow, the guy had catastrophically bad luck.
Had I known it would end like this, I never would have done the tea-bagging. That bastard wasn't going to show up in my dreams as a vengeful spirit, was he? Demanding the apology I owed him from this life, starting right now!
"Alia. Do you think we could arrange an exorcism, just in case?"
"Shall I inquire with the Church of White Flame?"
"Ah…"
The Church of White Flame. Hearing that word again, one phrase floated up from memory.
Never get friendly with the church characters. The root of all evil is the Church of White Flame.
Right after I possessed this body, I'd written down everything I could remember before I forgot it.
If you looked at my secret notebook, the words "Church of White Flame" were underlined, line after thick line. Ever since my transmigration, I'd worked hard to avoid entangling myself with the church. I'd watched myself carefully, then watched some more, all to avoid owing them even the smallest favor.
"Are you still keeping your distance from the Church of White Flame?"
"It's… a bit uncomfortable for me."
"How strange. I've never understood why you dislike the church so much. Even in the old days, while you may not have been fond of them, you were never this cold."
The reason? It was perfectly simple. In games and novels alike, the church was always the mastermind. The kindly cardinal who turned out to be a disgusting criminal. The benevolent, grandfatherly pope who turned out to be a monstrous murderer!
"Honestly, I don't believe in gods either."
"I see."
Rather than press me further, Alia moved the newspaper aside. "A moment ago, Miss Arka came by. She's waiting for you."
"Arka is? What are you doing, keeping her waiting! Let her in, hurry!!"
"Please. If anyone saw you, they'd think you were smuggling in a mistress."
"I'm not even married yet?"
"Regardless. I shall bring Miss Arka in."
Alia bowed at the waist and left my room. A short while later—
"Heizen, sir!"
Arka came running up to me with a bright smile. "Did you sleep well?"
"Welcome, Arka. Good morning."
As she always did, she knelt down before me, then rested her chin on my knee and leaned against it.
"I keep telling you, you can sit comfortably next to me."
"I like this better."
"Aigoo."
When I pinched her cheek, the soft flesh stretched and stretched. "Mweeeh."
"My lord. Miss Arka is a young lady too, you know. You really shouldn't do that so much."
"Oh, really? Sorry, Arka."
"No. You may do it more. No, please do it more."
Had Arka possessed a tail, I was certain it would have been wagging right about then.
So there I was, idly playing with her cheeks for a good long while, when—
"Heizen, sir."
"Mm? Arka? What is it?"
"What ever became of that matter from before?"
Uncharacteristically, Arka was the one to bring it up first. "You mean the second son of Duke Castiel?"
"Yes. That's who you said it was."
"I'd arranged a meeting to clear up the misunderstanding, but as it turns out…"
I gave a small gesture to Alia, who stood behind me. Catching my meaning at once, she handed over the newspaper from the table. "Look at this."
FLASH! Second Son of the Castiel Ducal Family Found Dead!
"He's dead."
"A tragedy, isn't it? A young man, gone so soon."
"…Did you perhaps not want him to die?"
"That's just the thing to say. From my standpoint, the matter resolved itself nicely. I'd been agonizing over whether I'd have to get on my knees and beg the man for forgiveness if we ever met, you know?"
The instant my words landed, Arka suddenly lifted her head. "Absolutely not."
"Hm?"
"You must never kneel before anyone, Heizen, sir. No one is worth that."
"It's fine. It's fine. That won't be happening anymore."
I was so grateful to Arka for worrying about me. I smiled and stroked her hair, and she settled back against my knee. "What a relief."
"A relief, indeed."
Then, all at once, I felt something soft and warm on the back of my hand. I looked down to find Arka gently pressing her lips to it.
"Please don't worry anymore."
"Arka?"
"Everything will be all right now."
I'd come within a hair's breadth of being hounded by that lunatic duke's son. And here she was, comforting me over it—for my part, I couldn't have been more thankful.
"Thank you. You're the reason life feels worth living, my Arka."
"…Really?"
"Of course."
So this is why people say you should raise a daughter!
Arka's life had been shackled to the cruelest law of all: Equivalent Exchange.
"Choose. Your child, or your own life."
That was what the village elders said to Arka's mother, having summoned her before them. Tolerating a child with human blood was one thing—but there was a far greater problem. Your child will be born under the destiny of the Ominous Star. She will without doubt bring tremendous calamity upon this land one day. Abandon the child of the Ominous Star, and we will permit you and your human husband to remain in the village. Refuse, and you must leave this land you have called home forever.
"I will leave."
Arka's mother cradled the child in her belly and, together with her husband, departed the homeland they loved. And so Arka was born, and for a brief, shining while, the little family knew happiness.
"You—! What in the world!!"
But the mother and daughter's happiness did not last even a few years. The husband, the father—a hunter by trade—never allowed himself a moment's rest. He poured every ounce of effort into bringing down more and more game, until at last he wandered into the territory of a monstrous beast.
"We were set upon by the beast."
The companions who carried his bloodied body back home shook their heads. "Aaagh!!" "Please, I beg you, help him!"
"We did our part in carrying him this far. If you want more, you must pay for it."
Only when Arka's mother thrust forward the savings they had set aside for the future did the hunters finally stir themselves. But the hour was already too late. Arka's father lost his life in the end.
"There is no such thing as goodwill without a price, little one."
These were men who hadn't so much as flinched as their companion died before their eyes. Monsters who'd smiled and deigned to show mercy only the moment money appeared. Arka had never forgotten what that hunter said that day.
"It's all right, Arka. Just trust your mama."
Arka's mother did everything in her power to shield her daughter. But before long, she too collapsed from illness.
"Hmm. Shall we do it this way, then?"
A nobleman who had long had his eye on the mother and daughter drew close and whispered, "Become my servant, and I will pay for the medicine. I might even summon a High Priest for you."
It was Arka's mother who seized her daughter's arm just as she was about to agree. Dying as she was, she clung stubbornly to the end, refusing to let her daughter yield. And so Arka was left alone in this world.
And the world was never gentle with a girl so young.
"Grab her! She's a half-elf!"
"Looks like she has no guardian! We'll fetch a fortune selling her!"
"Let's enjoy her ourselves first, before we sell her off!"
Chased, and fleeing. Starving, and withering away. That was how Arka lived, day after day.
One day, she was so desperately hungry that she was digging through the trash. "Hey, you."
An old beggar sidled up beside her. "I'll give you this, so let me use your body. Just once. Eh?"
What the beggar held out was a moldy, filth-caked piece of bread. Goodwill without a price did not exist. Only by giving something could one ever receive.
Along with a surge of revulsion, Arka felt something else stir within her—something she couldn't name. A baseless urge to kill, a murderous intent whispering that she should slay the man before her this very instant. Startled by herself for even thinking such a thing, she bolted on the spot.
Then, one day—
"Hey."
Before Arka, who looked ready to collapse at any moment—
"Here. Eat this."
A young nobleman appeared, holding out a piece of bread.
"…"
She reached for it without thinking. But everything she had ever endured held her hand back. "What do you want? My body?"
Of course. Naturally, that's what he wants. There's no such thing as a giver who asks for nothing in return—
"Nope. Nothing at all."
"…What did you say?"
"I don't want anything from you."
No. I won't be fooled. That's impossible.
"Why?"
Faced with Arka's challenge, the man gave an awkward little smile. "Sometimes the world does have goodwill without a price."
"You're lying. There's no such thing."
So just tell me what you want from me already. Spit out the price you're expecting. Hurry up and say it.
"I'm glad I met you."
The man carefully stroked Arka's hair. "That's all."
Light returned to Arka's eyes, which had been dimming further and further away. To the girl who wept that there was no kindness in the world given freely, the man had only smiled and extended his hand. All he'd offered was a single slice of bread, the warmth of a hand on her head, and a few quiet words. And yet that alone had been enough to loosen the shackles that had bound her all her life.
"…That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
Arka took a great, heaping bite of the bread the man had given her. It was warm.
"Gkkhaaagh…!"
Three years had slipped by since that first meeting. Heizen was still rescuing children to this day. Whenever he visited the orphanage, the sound of children's laughter rang through the air. No one there ever had to hand over something precious just to earn a smile. Kindness that asked for nothing in return—true, literal goodwill without a price. A man who reached out new lives to lost lambs like herself.
"And yet, you dared."
Arka stared down coldly at the man sprawled upon the bed. The second son of the Castiel Ducal Family, was it? The human who had dared threaten her Heizen—a man who absolutely had to die.
"Those who are his enemies are my mortal foes."
Her grip tightened around something unseen, squeezing without mercy. Each time she did, the man convulsed and clawed at his own chest, gasping for air.
"Heizen, sir, is my entire world."
At last, the moment Arka closed her fist—
"Kkh…"
The man's thrashing body went limp upon the bed. She brought her hand to his nose and mouth to check for breath. Life had completely faded. Arka flung herself straight through the window and into the night.
High above, in the dark sky, the Ominous Star glittered crimson.