Chapter 72
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Broken
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Bel set the bowl of soup from his lap onto the ground and hurried away from the other two as if something were chasing him.
Nausea churned in his stomach, and it felt as though something was about to spill from his lips.
With quick steps, Bel ducked into the woods behind the barracks, a place filled with rotting trees.
The boy gave Bel a strange look as he abruptly rose from his seat.
Grisha could only tell the boy forlornly to try and understand Bel.
“Huurk!”
Hidden behind the rotting trees, Bel violently vomited up whatever was rising in his throat.
Having eaten nothing for over thirty hours, Bel's vomit was completely clear. His throat burned from throwing up pure stomach acid.
“*Ptooey*.”
Bel spat a few more times to clear his mouth.
He himself didn't fully understand why nausea had suddenly surged from within.
“…How absurd.”
A sharp pain shot through Bel's left arm, causing it to tremble.
It hurt.
It stung, it burned, and yet it was cold.
Feeling the pain for the first time in a long while, Bel lifted his robe and looked at his bleeding arm.
He didn't know why the pain he had forgotten for so long had suddenly returned.
“Hah.”
A sigh.
Followed immediately by an empty laugh.
Bel burst out laughing, laughing for so long he wondered if he was going insane.
Only after laughing like a madman for some time was Bel able to leave the shade of the rotting trees and return to the campfire.
* * *
As the campfire crackled, drying the mud, the thick strings of an acoustic guitar vibrated. My left hand, fretting the chords, ached, not yet calloused.
As I watched the campfire's shadow dance across the empty soup bowl on the ground, Bel emerged from the shadows of the rotting trees where he had hidden.
He returned to his seat with a calm expression, as if nothing had happened, and picked up the soup bowl he had left on the ground.
“……”
The Saintess Grisha quietly took the hand of Bel, who sat beside her.
Bel glanced at her hand for a moment before turning his gaze back to the soup, scooping some up with his spoon and putting it in his mouth.
“It's often the things that seem trivial at first glance that enrich our daily lives. A warm soup with meat… or things like alcohol, tobacco, and music.”
Grisha said, bringing Bel's pipe to her lips as she spoke.
…I guess that means she enjoyed the music?
“Thank you. I'm not well-versed in music, but I could tell it had a rather unique composition. Please play for us again sometime.”
“!”
My eyes widened at Grisha's words of thanks, and I stared at her.
“What is it? Did I say something strange…?”
“It’s different from a normal song, right? Songs based in a standard minor key usually have a turnaround or a variation to build tension between the 50-second and one-minute mark, you know? But this piece has no such variation. A calm, low intro—like the subtle scent of fresh bread—continues for three minutes, and the ‘variations’ that pop up here and there only serve to give the listener a false sense of hope, making them think, ‘Oh, is it about to build up now?!’ But in the end, it just returns to the original notes and rhythm…”
“……”
Grisha just blinked as she listened to my explanation.
“You must like music.”
Bel, who had been eating his soup, spoke cynically as he watched me start to ramble excitedly.
“Don't bother Grisha too much. She's already tired…”
“Of course, no money chords were used at all. It's completely different from those wannabe hipsters who just change the fifth of a chord to a seventh for a little 'variation' and then shamelessly claim, 'See? I didn't use money chords.' If I'd had a piano, I could have shown you much more sophisticated harmonies…”
I cut Bel off and continued my explanation.
When someone’s explaining something, you should be grateful and just listen. Is it right to show so openly that you’re annoyed?
“Sorry, but no matter how passionately you explain, we won't understand. We're not well-versed in music. Talk about that stuff with the other guys…”
“That's fine. Because I am.”
“…Huh?”
For once, Bel stared at me with a slightly dazed expression, as if he couldn't comprehend.
“Just nod along. There's no harm in learning a little about music, right? As Lady Grisha said, music enriches our lives.”
I cut off the flustered Bel before he could say anything and continued with the next part of my explanation.
“W-Well, to be precise, soup and tobacco too…”
“Hush! Just stay still!”
I cut Grisha off and launched into a long-winded explanation about the intent behind my song, its structural characteristics, and how it differed from other, more conventional music. It was clear that neither Bel nor the Saintess understood a thing.
…No, in fact, the Saintess Grisha even looked like she was starting to regret ever complimenting my music.
But what could I do?
You started it. You were the ones who said you were moved, that the composition was unique.
For the past two months, I hadn't been able to work on music, let alone utter a single word about it.
I was too busy trying to survive, suffocating under the daily act of playing a genius.
The phrase 'nearly died' here is meant in the most literal, physical sense. It could be replaced with 'nearly became food for a giant spider' or 'nearly captured by the Mazoku and had my whole body melted' without seeming out of place.
It had been a shitty two months.
“Hey, I think I'll head back to the barracks first…”
“Ah-ah!”
And today, I even had to fly through the sky on that damn Dajin's back. Through a battlefield sky filled with Mazoku trying their damnedest to kill me!
Do you have any idea what it's like to ride on the back of a crazy electric deer, soaring 500 meters in the air? With hundreds of spells flying at me, and that damn deer not even giving a crap…
Could you even begin to imagine that feeling of anxiety and fear?
So you have a duty to listen to me.
You're the ones who provoked me by saying you liked my music.
So take responsibility.
Even if they looked at me with faces that said, 'Why are you doing this to us,' I wouldn't let them off the hook.
I've got you now, you two.
“And… *Ahem, hem*!”
Was it because I'd been talking nonstop for nearly twenty minutes? My throat felt terribly swollen.
The air here was already foul, and combined with my disastrously low stamina stat, I couldn't even control my own mouth as I pleased.
I haven't even explained a tenth of the philosophy embedded in my music…
“Ah, is it over? That took a while.”
“…Really? Wow. What happened next?”
Bel looked up from his blank stare into the fire and asked his question.
Grisha… she must have dozed off, because she offered a soulless reaction in a groggy voice.
“…I'll stop here for now.”
I said, massaging my raw throat.
Because these seasoned veterans seemed to have at least ten different ways to ignore someone rambling on about a topic they couldn't care less about.
“Hmph, tch.”
These two are no fun.
I'll have to bother Rireu later.
“Well then, I'll be going.”
Having lost interest, I picked up my empty bowl and stood up. My stomach was full and my throat hurt, so I figured I might as well get some sleep.
“Oh, right.”
As I got up, Bel looked up as if he just remembered something and spoke to me.
“That kid, Ad. He's broken.”
…What's that supposed to mean?
* * *
I propped my guitar up next to the bed inside the barracks and quietly slipped back out.
Then, I walked over to the barracks where Ad and the others were staying.
I just couldn't understand what Bel had meant.
He couldn't have meant a broken bone or two. For the clerics stationed on this battlefield, a fracture was a minor injury they could heal in under a minute.
It wasn't something Bel would bother reporting to me.
So, wanting to know the precise meaning of his words, I went to find my companions' barracks.
“Sir Bin!”
As soon as I lifted the tent flap of the barracks, a cheerful voice rang in my ears.
Rireu, the elf who wore her wide-brimmed hat pressed down firmly even inside the barracks, saw me and immediately hopped off her bed to approach.
“You're here?”
“Rireu, would you like to hear about my musical philosophy?”
“Huh?”
I wanted to test just how quickly that face could fill with worry and pain, but unfortunately, my throat wasn't in the best condition right now.
“…Never mind. Where's Ad?”
“Ah.”
The bright smile blooming on her face froze solid the moment she heard Ad's name.
…I knew their personalities wouldn't mesh, but I didn't expect her to loathe him this much.
“What about him?”
“Just… I heard he was broken somewhere. If the injury is serious, I was thinking of sending him back to the capital.”
“Broken? His wounds seemed almost completely healed thanks to the Saintess. Anyway, if you're looking for Ad, he left the barracks about twenty minutes ago.”
Alter, who had been wiping mud from his staff and ring, chimed into my conversation with Rireu.
I nodded and gave them both a quick farewell. My purpose here was Ad, after all.
Rireu's face showed her disappointment that I was leaving so soon, while Alter told me not to neglect my studies, as he would be sending new notes through an officer shortly.
Neither of them seemed to have lost their minds or fallen into despair like the other soldiers.
…Then again, it's only their third day in Vellaland. I suppose that's to be expected.
“Well, you two get some rest.”
With a light farewell, I lowered the tent flap and walked out into the mud. As I walked around, I saw not only officers but also soldiers sitting around campfires, drinks or tobacco in hand.
They boasted coarse tongues, spouting incomprehensible nonsense and laughing foolishly.
*…It's bothering me. What the hell is supposed to be broken?*
“Salute! You must be the new general, Sir Bin.”
Just as I was thinking, *Maybe I should check the area where the wounded are gathered*, a voice I'd never heard before came from the corner of my vision.
“Huh? Ah, yes. Salute.”
It was an officer holding a pipe. His name… I couldn't remember. I’d seen him reporting to Bel several times, but this was the first time we’d spoken directly.
“A pleasure to meet you, Captain.”
…Was he a captain? I can't remember that either.
“Wow, I heard you brought tobacco, alcohol… even meat, all paid for out of your own pocket. Thanks to you, the morale of the soldiers, which had hit rock bottom, has recovered somewhat.”
The officer, who wore a single medal on his chest, thanked me with a smile that seemed a bit unhinged.
He must be a captain, then.
“And that performance today! Riding a flying deer through the sky and calling down lightning—it was a sight straight out of a myth or a fairy tale. I could feel the hope returning to the soldiers' eyes for the first time in a long while. Hahaha!”
His words were positive, but there was something broken in his laughter that made it impossible to take them at face value.
“I'm glad to hear the soldiers' morale has improved, even if just a little.”
“Only one soldier committed suicide today! But judging by the state of decomposition, it looks like he actually did it about a week ago and we just found the body. So, technically speaking, there were no suicides today! Haha!”
“……”
Uh.
Um.
Yeah.
Wow. A little warning next time, maybe?
“Well, anyway… By the way, do you know a Private Ad? He's my direct escort, and I heard he was broken somewhere, so I wanted to check on his condition. The one with spiky hair like a chestnut bur.”
Unsure how to react, I decided to just change the subject.
I didn't want to talk for long with someone who could discuss something so heavy with a 'No one killed themselves! Hooray! Wahaha!' kind of attitude.
I mean, it's a relief that no one died, but still, it's a bit scary. No matter how you look at it, that's not something you should be laughing so heartily about, is it?
“Ah, I saw him while I was on a smoke break earlier. He was talking with Sergeant Rex over on that hill.”
I said goodbye to the captain with a few screws loose and quickly headed toward the low hill he had pointed to.
I didn't have the nerve to continue a one-on-one conversation with that man.
Ugh, he gave me the creeps.
Following his directions, I passed the large barracks area for officers, and a forest of rotting trees and a high mud hill blocking the way came into view.
*…He's up there? Why would a guy with something broken climb a hill this high?*
I let out a sigh and began to slowly climb the mud hill.
I'd developed a knack for handling this awful body of mine, so instead of climbing straight up, I ascended at a slight angle, switching directions partway.
If you go straight up, the incline is too steep and your legs start to ache right away, but if you traverse, the angle becomes a bit more manageable.
This is the wisdom of a second life…
“Are you saying you intend to desert?”
*Huh?*
Just as I was lost in useless thoughts about the wisdom of my second life, Rex's passionate shout reached my ears.
“That's right.”
And the one who answered that passionate shout was Ad.
…What in the world is going on up there?