Chapter 11: The First Letter (11)
Chapter 11: The First Letter (11)
It took a long time to calm Emma’s father down.
Since the Saintess was away, Reto and I had to explain the general situation in her stead. With every word we spoke, Emma’s father crumbled further into despair.
To see a human being break down—to see someone collapse with an expression so shattered it seemed they could never recover—was more difficult to witness than I had imagined. In the end, Reto and I had to avert our eyes, our own faces twisted in pain.
Not that it mattered; he was merely staring blankly at the floor.
He wasn't even allowed to enter the concentrated healing room. It was a matter of hygiene.
Commoners could not maintain the same level of cleanliness as nobles. Since washing and scrubbing one's body required money, they couldn't recklessly admit a man dripping with grime into an intensive care unit.
And so, he couldn't even see his daughter’s face. We could only hope that the news of high-ranking priests doing their absolute best to treat her would offer him some small comfort.
Under normal circumstances, a commoner would never even lay eyes on such high-ranking figures. Emma’s father clung to that last thread of hope as if those priests were the very avatars of the Heavenly God Arus.
This was only possible because she had been admitted to the Academy.
It was the reason a messenger could reach him in less than a day to report her critical condition, and the reason he could use an expensive warp gate to reach the Academy in an instant.
However, that was the extent of the Academy’s grace. Matters of life and death were governed solely by the Heavenly God.
Emma’s father began to murmur memories of his daughter like a lament. It was the only thing he had left to do.
“Emma... she was special since she was a babe. She didn’t seem like a child born from a fool like me.”
That was likely why she was able to enter the Academy. Reto and I couldn't find any words to say; we only let out faint, pained sighs.
I felt like a criminal. As the Saintess had said, it might not have been anyone’s fault, but the emotions felt by those involved were a different matter entirely.
At the very least, I felt responsible for Emma’s injuries. I couldn't help it.
Because I was the only one who could have stopped her at the very end.
Regardless of my inner turmoil, Emma’s father continued his lament.
“She lost her mother to a wolf when she followed me out to gather herbs as a child. Even so, she grew up so bright and polite, not at all like a child raised without a mother. She was especially good at remembering the traits of herbs... I had her learn her letters just in case, and she picked them up in a heartbeat.”
“...She was a wonderful daughter.”
Perhaps finding the heavy silence unbearable, Reto chimed in with those words.
It was a sympathetic remark anyone could have made, but the countryman’s eyes welled with tears. He nodded vigorously.
“Yes, she was. A good daughter. From then on, there was nothing I wouldn't do to pay for her books. It was hard, but seeing her master those difficult texts without anyone even teaching her... I was so proud. Then, one day, she suddenly passed the entrance exam for the Academy.”
Finally, the man broke down into sobbing. He was a burly, middle-aged man, but before the impending death of his precious daughter, he could only weep like a child.
Guh... ugh... The sounds of grief he couldn't quite squeeze out escaped like groans from deep within. My head bowed instinctively.
I fiddled with the potion in my pocket. The last legacy Emma had left behind.
It was something she must have made for her father. Every time the long, hard texture of the vial pressed against my palm, I felt an unbearable pang of guilt.
“If only, hic... if I had known it would come to this, I should have just raised her quietly as a herbalist... sob... This father, this foolish father was too greedy...”
“Sir.”
I called out to him softly before his mournful wailing could continue.
His eyes, brimming with tears, turned toward me. Without a word, I took the potion from my pocket and pressed it into his large, calloused hand.
I hesitated to speak, but I felt it was something that had to be said, so I forced my mouth open.
“Emma was bragging to me yesterday. She said she developed a potion that conceals one's scent... I don't know much about the principles, but creating a new potion is a magnificent achievement for an alchemist.”
The herbalist looked down at the potion in silence. It was as if he couldn't even begin to fathom the sheer weight of the devotion and effort Emma had poured into that tiny vial.
I relayed Emma’s final words to him, hoping that this wouldn't be the last gift she ever gave her father.
“She said that with this potion, she could prevent many herbalists and hunters from getting hurt or killed... Please, take it.”
Tears welled up in the man's eyes once more. They fell in heavy droplets. Yet, despite that, he firmly shook his head.
He pushed the potion back toward me. Seeing my bewildered expression, Emma’s father spoke.
“Please use it, young master... This lowly peasant no longer cares whether he lives or dies.”
How could he say such a thing? I was about to protest, but the moment I met his eyes, the breath caught in my throat.
He was serious. In his sunken eyes, despair and pain were embedded like shards of broken glass.
“Please, sob, please use it, young master... Remember Emma... remember my daughter... This fool will never be able to forget her as long as he lives anyway... Waaaaah!”
Once the man’s dam of grief broke, his wailing continued for a long time.
It lasted until he fainted, collapsed, and was carried away to the guest quarters.
I blankly tucked Emma’s potion back into my pocket.
My head was spinning. It felt as if a heavy lump had formed in my chest.
Reto, after a long silence, finally spoke.
“...Ian, let’s head back soon.”
There was no answer. My mouth remained tightly shut.
A deep sigh escaped Reto’s lips.
“It’s been hours. Staying here won't make Emma wake up... Let’s go back, get some food, and rest. We have to keep living our own lives.”
He added that Celine would be worried, but no matter what he said, nothing registered.
I was only thinking about the letter. The letter I had crumpled and thrown away.
Like a bolt of lightning, a thought pierced through my mind.
Only then did a faint voice leak from my closed lips.
“...The letter.”
“Huh?”
Reto narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at me as if asking what I was talking about. I didn't even notice his reaction as I muttered absentmindedly.
“A letter came... from seven years in the future.”
Reto’s expression hardened further. He began to scrutinize my face. Even so, I couldn't stop talking.
“It was written there. That Emma would be attacked by a demonic beast and fall into a coma... If I had told her, no, if I had just stood guard for her myself...”
“...Ian.”
Reto’s voice dropped low and heavy. It was a grave tone, meaning he was being dead serious. But I abruptly stood up.
I began to blurt out whatever thoughts came to mind. Regret and guilt.
It felt suffocating. I shook my head violently, like a rain-soaked dog trying to shake off water.
“If I had, then I could have saved Emma. No, maybe she wouldn't have even been hurt! If I... if I had just been a little more careful...!”
“Ian!”
Finally unable to take it anymore, Reto barked out. I snapped out of it at his shout and stared at him blankly.
Reto trudged over and placed a hand on my shoulder. He let out a sigh and spoke.
“Please, let’s go rest... You look like you’re at your limit.”
I suppose so. To anyone else, I must have sounded insane.
It was only natural. However, the words at the end of that letter were still vivid in my heart.
‘If you cannot protect the future, the world will perish.’
What if those words were true?
No, the idea of the world perishing didn't even feel real, so it didn't matter.
But what if victims like Emma continued to appear?
As if possessed, I stood up and began to walk. My staggering gait soon turned into a sprint. I heard Reto shouting from behind, but I ignored him.
I was on the path to the dormitory. In the distance, I saw Celine.
She was about to wave happily, but when she saw my grim expression, her face turned to one of confusion.
I grabbed Celine by the shoulders. A light pink flush bloomed on her cheeks.
“Wh-what is it this time...?”
“Celine.”
At my ragged, panting voice, Celine’s eyes went wide. Soon, her expression turned serious.
I was more serious now than I had ever been. Celine realized that.
“A letter... pant... a letter came from the future. It said Emma would get hurt...”
“...Ian Oppa.”
At that quiet call, our eyes met.
Celine’s eyes held disbelief. It was a strange look, as if she were facing an incomprehensible riddle.
“Are you... drunk, by any chance?”
Hearing that, I let out a hollow laugh.
Celine’s suspicion was perfectly justified. I would have thought the same thing. But my intuition—and the strange experiences I’d had around that dream—were testifying to me.
This was not something to be dismissed as a mere prank.
So, leaving behind the two people I trusted most, I ran again.
I reached my room. I took a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and poured it into a glass. The pungent scent of alcohol stung my nose and pierced my brain.
It didn't matter. I downed the glass immediately. The strong liquor flowed down, burning my esophagus and stomach.
Then, staggering, I walked over and overturned the trash can.
It had been two weeks. But since I rarely stayed in the dorms, I hadn't emptied the trash yet.
All sorts of paper waste spilled out. I almost hoped that the experience that day had been a hallucination born of a drunken stupor.
However, when I saw a single piece of high-quality stationery, all crumpled up...
I couldn't help but burst into a hollow laugh. I immediately smoothed out the crumpled letter.
‘To my beloved Ian Percus,’
Following that first line was a flood of content. Amidst that deluge of information, I found the passage I had been so desperately seeking.
‘Thinking back, that year’s Hunting Festival had an unusual number of incidents. It all started when Emma from the Alchemy Department went to gather ingredients and was found unconscious after being attacked by a mysterious demonic beast.’
It was there. Exactly as I had seen it.
The prophecy that Emma would go to gather ingredients and be attacked by a demonic beast had now been fulfilled.
Staggering, my eyes scanned the letter again.
As if to engrave every single character into my brain, I leaned against the desk and drank, reading it over and over.
It was a love letter from the future.
I still didn't know why, of all people, it had arrived for me. However, what I had to do was clear.
If I couldn't protect the future, the world would perish?
To be honest, it was a story that didn't even feel real, but fine.
I’ll play along.
I still didn't know if this letter was truly from the future or just someone’s prank.
But I resolved to go along with it, just this once, as I carefully folded the letter and tucked it into my shirt.
And then I thought. I understood the rest of the content, but there was one thing. A name whose identity I couldn't fathom.
‘From Sepia, who is thinking of you again tonight.’
Who on earth was ‘Sepia’?
The night deepened along with the alcohol, and a new task was set before me.
I had to find ‘Sepia’ and unite with her.
It was the beginning of a romance to save the world.