For Now (2)
"No, not all at once like that. The water'll spill."
"Tch. Did it spill?"
"It spilled. Completely spilled."
"Man, this is harder than it looks…"
"That's because you can't control your strength. How does someone who can fine-tune a fishing line fail this badly at pouring water?"
"Those two things are not the same…"
I grunted and strained, but I never once let my friend's explanations slip past me. I worked my brain as hard as I could.
Looked at from a distance, none of it was complicated. Still, something you had never done before made everything feel alien.
"You don't have to put so much force into the posture. Nobody's going to get on you if you mess that one thing up."
"Come on. Half-assing it while I'm learning still feels wrong."
And yet few things were as enjoyable as learning something unfamiliar. Especially when the whole session existed for research, and especially when a friend had volunteered so willingly.
I repeated the motion of transferring water from the kettle into the tea bowl several more times. Pouring itself was easy; making it come out at a steady, gentle pressure was a little harder.
My friend twitched his lips and corrected my hands. That was the habit that only appeared when he was truly satisfied.
Good thing I hadn't half-assed it after all.
He wasn't petty enough to get seriously angry even if I had… but there were times when, precisely because you were close, you owed each other a little more care.
"You're getting the hang of it now."
"Oh? Am I decent yet?"
"Yeah. Decent. This is good enough to say you learned from me."
We practiced like that for a long while.
"Nice. I'm feeling generous. Next time we meet, if you can do it this well again, I'll show you something I treasure."
"Something you treasure?"
"Something ridiculously expensive and good. Forty-year-old tea."
"…Wouldn't the fragrance have faded by then?"
"That just means I stored it well. If the storage is bad, age doesn't mean a thing."
"Whoa… Am I even allowed to drink something like that?"
"When did I say I'd let you drink it? I said I'd show you."
"You little—"
After the light joking died down, my friend—his face so pale the bridge of his nose was hard to make out—lifted the corner of his mouth just a little.
Pat. On a face I had never once seen cry, thick raindrops began to fall, one after another.
"If you really want to drink it that badly, I guess I could let you taste it."
The realization hit me like a bell.
"So… please come back, you bastard. I'm begging you. Please come back alive…"
This was a dream.
"Hah!"
The moment I woke, the smell of a white, closed-off space brushed my nose. In and out. Breathing felt uncomfortable, and yet somehow comfortable, and still uncomfortable. Come back. Someone's voice rang and rang in my ears.
"My lord?"
Even that faded from memory almost at once.
I avoided every sensation that reached me and pressed my left hand over my eyes.
I must have sweated too much. The palm that met my skin felt thoroughly damp.
"My lord, are you awake?"
"Did you catch them."
It was a little hazy, and the dream I'd just had made it even harder to trust, but I still remembered that at the very last moment someone had interfered.
I also remembered the surroundings turning red and the intruder holding something black—something that, as far as my blurry memory went, looked like Biryuho's corpse.
So asking about that first was the right move. Judging by how soft the bed felt, my own safety was, for the moment, in the clear.
"……"
Why no answer, then? Had I imagined it after all? Was that why he couldn't pick the words he was supposed to say?
"…We lost them, my lord."
Fortunately, it seemed that had not been my misunderstanding alone.
Even if Dev's answering voice sounded like he was grinding his teeth, that was probably just because of the content of the report.
I clenched my fist.
Now I had to worry about the roleplay.
"Don't force yourself to get up! You just woke after eleven days—where do you think you're going…!"
"Let go…!"
Kh. In a development like this, of course losing them was the "correct" outcome, but damn it was frustrating!
And if they'd really stolen Biryuho's corpse, that meant I'd had the finishing blow snatched from me twice already. Once I could maybe overlook, but twice? Didn't they know that was brain-dead writing? Honestly, this author has no idea how to write a scenario!
"If you don't want another seal shattered, lie back down!"
"……!"
What did he just say?
"…Please, for the love of everything, know the state of your body before you move, my lord."
You've completely mastered how to handle the roleplay too, haven't you.
Yeah. Lines like that would make even the concept rein itself in. Of course they would.
With thoughts that trivial, I let the strength leave my body. Thud. The soft sensation pressed against my back again. The straw under the bedding almost felt fresh.
"……"
I could barely move as it was, so this was probably for the best.
I silently thanked Dev once more for the line and laid my forearm over my eyes again. The light leaking through the window was stabbing straight into my pupils; I had no choice.
"…Uh, my lord. About what I just said—"
Ah, but lying like this only made me want to sleep more. Even setting aside Biryuho's corpse and the intruder, I still needed to figure out what had happened afterward.
"That."
Knock knock!
But I was a little too lazy. Just as that feeling was about to take over my body, a knock snapped my mind awake.
Still resting my forearm across my eyes, I moved my lips.
"Business."
From the feel of the arm over my eyes and the sensation across my upper body, I was almost certainly in bandages and a shirt. Better a short question than letting someone in.
That was the conclusion the process led me to.
"I—I brought a wet towel for washing your body…"
The person outside answered. A wet towel for washing. Well, you couldn't exactly leave a sleeping person unwashed, and you couldn't dunk them in a tub either, so that was about the only option.
"Ah, I'll take it, thank you."
Deathbringer scrambled up and took the towel. In the meantime, I pushed myself upright.
"My lord, you don't need to sit—"
"Leave."
I might not have been at full strength, but I was nowhere near unable to move. And as long as I was conscious, the concept would never let anyone else see this body.
"But your body is still—"
"I will not say it twice."
"……"
Only after Dev set the basin and towel on the side table and left did I pick them up.
When I pressed the towel soaked in hot water to my face, a soft warmth slowly seeped into my skin.
"…Ah."
If I could move, wouldn't going to the bathhouse be better? The thought crossed my mind for a second, then I discarded it. Calling someone to prepare it was a hassle, and walking there myself was also a hassle.
For once, laziness beat the urge to stay clean.
Next time we meet, if you can do it this well again, I'll show you something I treasure.
"…I want tea."
But I did want tea a little.
So… please come back, you bastard. I'm begging you. Please come back alive…
I wanted it a little. A lot.
Not anything else—the forty-year tea you talked about. Or even just the hot water you would've poured me while complaining that my practice still wasn't good enough.
If I could only drink it in the place I was supposed to be, I would be so happy.
Clunk.
I set the wet towel down.
Something surged up past my throat, but I roughly swallowed it. I already knew the name of that emotion; there was no need to look at it.
Instead, I thought of a substitute. Laziness be damned—I was going to wash properly. You couldn't drink tea with a filthy body, so I needed to make myself clean after all.
Creak.
I opened the door and stepped into the corridor. After staying this long in the Ednium temple, I didn't even need directions to the bathhouse. I had the whole path memorized.
"This feels awful…"
The unpleasantness that hit me the second I left the room was something I couldn't do anything about.
The way the feeling changed so sharply at the threshold made it obvious they'd put some kind of measure on the room itself. How they knew, and what principle it ran on, I had no idea.
"Oh—Sir Knight. When did you wake…"
In any case, I reached the bathhouse. I told the priest I met in the hallway to bring only hot water, then stood at the entrance.
The priests fussed a little, but soon they came back with steaming water in their hands.
"Then please call us when the water cools. We'll set out fresh hot water and leave."
"Unnecessary."
I didn't have the strength to soak for long. As long as I could wash the emotions off, that would be enough.
So, as always, I drove out everyone who would have attended me and sank myself into the wooden tub.
While I was down, a priest must have trimmed my hair; the strands floating on the water were a little shorter than before.
The uneven back of my head—gnawed-looking from when I'd cut it myself—was the same. The hair I absently touched was smooth.
At this rate, maybe I needed to collapse on a regular schedule just to keep the hairstyle. I muttered a joke that would have made anyone else scream.
How long can I keep looking away?
And once my whole head was thoroughly soaked, the laughter I'd barely scraped together as a joke cut off cold.
My right eye, the eyepatch temporarily set aside for washing, was fully exposed above the surface of the water.
How long can I keep lying to myself?
The color of a thoroughly dried rose and a neutral shade with no color at all reflected someone else's face.
Just how long…
Splash.
Sorrow is mostly water-soluble. Most stray thoughts are water-soluble too.
So I dunked my head under the water. And when my breath ran short, I jerked it back up with a wet slap.
"Come to think of it… it's been a while since I left a letter, hasn't it?"
Along with the tears, the water cooled.
"Ha. Mom, Dad, and all my idiot friends—if they could see this, how furious would they be."
Come to think of it, the world has a saying.
"You crazy bastard. You don't even leave letters regularly… It's not even certain you'll come back to life if you die, and lately you've been treating your life like gum stuck to a shoe. Real proud of yourself, huh?"
Vehement denial is strong affirmation—that saying.
"I'd look like a complete idiot. Like the biggest, rarest fool, moron, and halfwit the world has ever seen…"
It's a phrase people use a lot when they're being stubborn, so I never liked it much. Separate from that dislike, though, there are occasional moments when you have to admit the saying is right.
"…But what am I supposed to do."
For example, right now.
"I can't think of any way back, and the only method that even looks like one is a path you can only take by staking your life."
Even so, that was no reason to stop.
"If I don't even have the belief that I'll restart if I die, the road is so frightening I can't even try it…"
Yes. I had no reason to stop.
"If I don't take it lightly like this, how am I supposed to hold on…"
This was the best hand I could play against the present.
"Before every fight, my chest always hurts. I'm so scared I might actually die that my heart races just from that one thought."
Having only one chance is, in itself, fear and terror. Even if the concept is a fearless warrior, that doesn't change.
In the end the subject is me, and I am nothing more than a cowardly modern person.
"So Mom, Dad, you damn friends of mine. If you're seeing this, please don't think I'm a fool."
Which is why I deceive myself.
If I believe I'll come back even if I die—if I treat retry as an available option—
then I can face it lightly, without a single speck of fear.
"Don't laugh at my best."
Even so, sometimes a terror comes creeping in.
Death. Loss. Oblivion. Solitude.
"I'm only barely holding on because of the one belief that if I get through all of this, I'll be able to see you again."
Anxiety.
The anxiety that every effort and every thrashing struggle might go unrewarded.
"I'm holding on like this because of the one belief that I'll get to hang out with you again."
Ah, how wonderful it would be if this world were a game. Even a roguelike without restarts would be fine—if I could only be certain it was a game, how happy I would be.
If this world were a game—if it were only a game that followed a scenario—
then I wouldn't have to doubt that a happy ending was guaranteed at the end of every hardship and trial. I would be able to smile my way through every hard and painful thing.
"Please."
Therefore this has to be a game. Even if I myself don't believe the words, it still has to be a game.
Otherwise.
Otherwise…
"Please tell me I'm doing well."
I have no idea what I'm even enduring these vicious trials for.
"Tell me I'll be able to go back…"
Even the hope I've barely managed to plant my feet on will vanish.
"Please, you damn system bastard…"
Even though the weight of a life forced onto me is piled on my back like a mountain.
But even as I deny this world, I also want to know the truth.
So that even if I despair, no regrets will be left behind.
Splash.
As always, I shoved the answerless system aside and dumped a whole basin of soapy water over a head that felt steeped in blood.
And after scrubbing my hair hard, I scraped at a body that seemed dyed red, as if I meant to peel the flesh from the bone.
Even so, the humanity that had already cracked and broken would not return.
I never looked away from that. Sure—you can run from reality, but this was one thing you must never deny.
If losing a piece of your humanity meant throwing away guilt as well, that would be the moment you truly stopped being human.
"You…"
Because I hated that, I walked aimlessly with guilt loaded full in my arms. After washing, I wanted tea.
Of course, if I went to the dining hall there was a high chance the Archmage would pour me some… but I didn't want to share a table with them right now.
"You're awake! I was actually coming to see you—I'm so glad you've recovered."
It wasn't that I'd come to dislike them. It was only that the person I wanted to drink tea with was someone else. And since that person didn't exist in this world, there would be no tea today.
"What."
Anyway—enough stray thoughts.
I focused on the person I'd happened to run into—the young lord of Ednium, who looked as if he had just entered the temple. Beside him stood the young lord of Camborer; apparently he'd been throwing himself into romance right up until her departure.
"I—this is late, but… thank you. Truly. You saved my life."
"I, too, am deeply grateful that you took our revenge in our place."
Both young lords offered elegant bows.
"……"
Their gratitude didn't land very hard.
I was too exhausted to feel fulfillment from the people I had saved. More precisely, I simply didn't have the energy left to be glad.
"Ah."
"…Oh dear."
So I walked past them without so much as a reaction. Given what I had done for them, even if they found it unpleasant, they would let it slide.
Tap.
They would let it slide—but thinking it over, I did have business of my own.
My body turned half a step back.
"I have a question."
"……! Please, ask anything! If it is something I can answer, I will do my utmost to reply."
"The same goes for me."
I didn't need that level of resolve for this question.
"Who was the one who pretended to know me last time?"
"……?"
I might not demand resolve, but interpreting Demon Knight speech required a certain talent. The young lord of Ednium's face grew vague, while the young lord of Camborer slightly narrowed her brow and concentrated.
"If… by 'last time' you mean the lords' conference, that would be the lord of Belgart."
Fortunately, the young lord of Camborer's instincts won out.
"Confirmed."
Belgart. Belgart.
It sounded similar enough to Berserk that I wouldn't forget it.
With that thought, I decided to find someone who had a map.
After all, I needed to know where Belgart sat on the map before I could go there.
And once I arrived, the truth of this body that I didn't know would probably come to light. It might even connect to the truth of the system itself.
The past of a possessed body linking to the full story of events was a common cliché, after all.
"Um, Sir Knight."
Perhaps I had squeezed my eyes shut in the contradiction between wanting to believe this place was a game and no longer being able to look away from the truth.
The young lord of Ednium, mid-"talk with your eyes" with the young lord of Camborer, caught hold of me.
"If you wish to meet the lord of Belgart, I can arrange a connection. There is a Magic Tower branch in Belgart. And as it happens, many mages are already in this city."
That was… a little distant, and yet rather good news.
"The price."
"I have my pride—how could I ask for anything? The moment I return to the castle, I will send a telegram to Belgart. Since the message is from none other than you, Sir Knight, it shouldn't take lo—!"
Squeeze.
"…ng, though the lord may be occupied with other affairs, so it may take some time. I ask for your understanding on that point."
"M-Mia…"
For some reason the young lord of Ednium had suddenly gotten excited and started babbling nonsense, and the young lord of Camborer had corrected him, but anyway.
"Irrelevant."
"Thank you. Then when a reply arrives, shall I send someone to the temple?"
I glanced at the young lord of Ednium, who was rolling on the floor after being pinched by the young lord of Camborer, then looked back at her. I had been wondering where the "send someone to the temple" part had come from.
"Or will you go straight to the castle?"
Ah. So the question had been whether I would wait at the temple or at the castle.
"I will go."
"Understood. Then I will escort you to the castle."
Following the concept, I gave the answer without hesitation. Even if, inside me, the wish not to go and the knowledge that I had to were still crossing paths.