Chapter 629: Last Will (3)
Chapter 629: Last Will (3)
Last Will
To my beloved Ian Percus,
Spring, which I have waited for so long, is just around the corner, but it seems spring has no intention of waiting for me. I wonder how many years have passed since the day we first met.
Has it been about three years already? If only a little more time had passed, I might have been able to leave after reaching a full milestone.
I never imagined that you would become my final lingering regret. To be honest, until just a year ago, we were nothing more than reasonably close acquaintances. But like all things that flow, a single small catalyst changed everything for us.
I was a bit surprised to learn your truth—even if it was a truth I heard within a dream.
Knowing the future is a blessing, but at the same time, it is a curse. I understand now. The reason your body is so unstable isn't just because of your Secret Arts.
How hard it must have been for you.
Lately, whenever I close my eyes, I see unfamiliar landscapes. It’s been happening for a while, but recently, I feel like I might lose consciousness at any moment, even when I’m not dreaming. When that happens, I hear the shadows whispering to me.
Telling me to just give up.
You must have been in just as much pain and suffering, right? That’s why I’m okay.
I am actually grateful that I can die for your sake. Grateful that the life of a trivial girl, who deserved to die anyway, can serve as the sole sacrifice to save you, who are already so broken.
For the fact that I could be your lover, for the fact that I could press my lips against yours, and for every other miraculous encounter we shared.
I offer my sincere gratitude. Oh, God.
Tonight is the last night.
You are unconscious now, but when you open your eyes again, you will be reading this. Please, do not feel guilty because I am gone.
You did everything you could.
You lost someone precious, you struggled desperately to save me, and now, unable to endure any more, you have fallen into sleep. Even as you coughed up blood and fainted time and time again.
And yet, everyone says there is no other way.
If I have one final regret, it’s that I wanted to hear your voice one last time.
So, I leave my farewell in this letter.
Goodbye, Ian.
I loved you, and I love you still. Tonight, I will pray for you.
I pray that you may achieve your goal.
If you feel like it, please place some spring flowers on my grave. So that we can commemorate the day we met.
From. The commoner girl who loves you.
On the twenty-eighth day of the Month of the Snow Flower, Imperial Year 565.
——
I read through the text in silence for a long time.
My hands, which had been trembling as if they might drop the letter at any moment, eventually grew still. My pupils scanned the lines over and over, searing every single character into my mind.
‘Last Will.’
The implication of those two words was all too clear. No, she had even confessed it in the letter.
That she was dying.
But who?
It was a pointless question. From the moment I saw that neat, compact handwriting, I couldn't help but think of one particularly clever commoner girl.
The date written at the end of the letter seeped into the gaps of my thoughts.
“Imperial Year 565…”
Something was different.
Until now, the letters had arrived from a future seven years away. Well, since the year had changed, should I call it a future six years away now?
That year was Imperial Year 571.
There was a clear discrepancy in the timing compared to the letter before my eyes. Above all, if it was the Month of the Snow Flower, wasn't that the very month the calendar was currently pointing to?
I hurriedly grabbed the calendar. Despite being in an unfamiliar place, it wasn't hard to find as it sat on the bedside table.
‘The twenty-eighth day.’
It didn't take long to calculate the remaining time. There were only about three weeks left.
In other words, this letter had come from a future only three weeks away.
Upon realizing this, my body tried to stand up of its own accord, even though I had no idea where I should be heading.
The letter wasn't long to begin with. The information contained within was extremely sparse.
What on earth is going to happen?
It was at the moment I stirred with that question in mind.
“Are you awake?”
At the calm voice, I flinched and turned my questioning gaze toward the source.
The sound came from an old man.
His snow-white hair and beard seemed to tell the story of how many years he had lived. Furthermore, his disciplined posture and the shabby priest's robes draped over his aged frame subtly revealed his character.
A clergyman.
He was such a quintessential priest that one could have painted his portrait and put it in a dictionary. However, there was one thing that grated on my nerves: his presence.
I hadn't noticed him.
Not from the moment he opened the door and entered, until the moment right before he stroked his beard and spoke to me.
While I hesitated, unable to guess the man's identity, the old priest took quiet steps forward.
A complete silence, without even the sound of fabric brushing against itself.
Additionally, his hollow, airy prayer was impressive. Was he perhaps a martial artist who had undergone long years of training?
As my gaze began to sharpen with wariness, the old priest let out a soft chuckle.
“There is no need to be so guarded. I am, for now, the one in charge of your treatment.”
“Who exactly are you…?”
“Do you not recognize me?”
A counter-question met my inquiry.
I was merely bewildered. No matter how I looked at him, it seemed to be our first meeting, yet he asked if I didn't know him.
Was he that famous?
But even for figures renowned across the Continent, it was rare for detailed descriptions of their appearance to circulate. Unless they were at least the leader of a nation, there weren't many people the public would find familiar just by looking at their face.
That left only one possibility.
It meant the two of us had crossed paths somewhere before. Even if I couldn't remember it at all.
When I remained silent, the corners of the old man's mouth curved into a slight arc.
“Did we not see each other, if only from a distance? Though, I suppose it was far too brief.”
Right then.
A memory pierced through the top of my head like a bolt of lightning. The Holy City of Siendel in the Holy Kingdom—the Mountain Court that boasted an authority as high as its sheer cliffs.
Hadn't there been an old man standing at its summit with his hands behind his back?
“Could you be…?”
“That is correct.”
Before I could even utter the name that had just come to mind, the old priest gave an immediate and refreshing affirmation.
“I am Archbishop Aindel, Sir Ian. I have heard so much of your heroic exploits that my ears are practically ringing.”
Archbishop Aindel.
I had heard that name long ago. Was it already last year when I heard he was the figure leading the faction opposing the Saintess?
However, upon hearing the old man's name, my brow furrowed slightly.
The battle against Leoric in the North—the name I heard at the end of that fight was also ‘Aindel.’
‘Beware of Archbishop Aindel.’
Those had been Leoric’s last words. Having not forgotten them, I couldn't help but be deeply suspicious of the man before me.
Despite my negative reaction, Aindel didn't seem particularly offended.
“Do not be so wary. I say this as a priest. Above all, we are comrades who must work together for a while.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The relic discovered in the Haster family's gold mine.”
The topic suddenly pierced my mind like an awl.
A faint groan escaped my lips. I had been dazed for a moment because of Emma’s last will, but the immediate problem wasn't just the letter from the future.
Celine, my childhood friend.
The person identified as the culprit behind the attack on the Alphenhauser family. I didn't know what she had done, but the testimony that her martial power had grown to a level beyond comparison seemed to be true.
If it weren't, she wouldn't have been able to demolish Alphenhauser's Golden Fortress single-handedly.
The ‘relic’ Archbishop Aindel mentioned was also deeply connected to my childhood friend. After all, it was the very object that had caused the Haster territory to be torn asunder.
My skull throbbed with my pulse. Even amidst that, Archbishop Aindel’s explanation continued.
“The Empire has designated you, Sir Ian, as a Special Inspector. It may be difficult, but I would like you to fulfill that duty to some extent.”
“How many days have passed since I fainted?”
It was a question I threw out instead of an answer.
I was the one who had looked at the calendar as soon as I read the letter. Naturally, I knew how many days had passed, but the intent behind my question lay elsewhere.
The existence of the ‘me’ from the future.
There was no scribbled memo left on Emma’s last will. In other words, it meant that while I was unconscious, the ‘me’ from the future might not have been active either.
And my guess soon became reality.
“Since you have just opened your eyes, you were unconscious for about two days.”
It was a gap that exactly matched the date I remembered.
It seemed I hadn't woken up and started acting on my own during those two days. Did that mean I could no longer count on the man's help?
All sorts of problems breached the dam of my thoughts and flooded in. They were difficult challenges for me to handle alone.
I had to find a strategist.
The Saintess, Cien, or my friend Reto.
Any of the figures floating in my mind would do. I felt like I wanted to pour out my worries right now and receive help from anyone.
I felt like I wouldn't be able to endure it otherwise.
As I tried to push myself up again, Archbishop Aindel asked in his usual calm voice.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes, I just remembered some urgent business.”
He didn't seem to have any intention of stopping me.
It was a negligent attitude for a priest in charge of treatment. If it had been the Saintess, she would have already caused an uproar.
For me, this was actually better. I had no desire to entrust my body to someone I couldn't even trust.
Right then.
“Then please give me just a few more seconds of your time. There is a fact I must absolutely convey.”
“...?”
At the words that suddenly held me back, I had to stop getting up and send him a questioning look.
A fact he must absolutely convey?
My childhood friend had turned into an enemy of humanity, and my lover was on the verge of death—could there be a more urgent matter than that?
Just as I was about to tell him we should talk later.
“Sir Ian Percus.”
With an excessively solemn expression, the old priest spoke.
“You are going to die.”
My eyes, which had been looking straight ahead, turned back to him blankly.
What was he talking about?
Was this some kind of murder warning? But for that to be the case, the old man's complexion was far too somber.
It wasn't the face a criminal would make. Well, maybe for a priest.
That made it even harder to understand.
“And within a month, at that.”
“What on earth does that…”
“This is my professional opinion as a priest.”
On what grounds could he speak so definitively?
Before my lips could quiver and spit out a rebuttal, the old man's wrinkled hand was placed firmly on my shoulder.
The Archbishop's eyes were burning like blue flames. It was the gaze unique to those with strong conviction, one that did not allow for a single shred of doubt.
“Please, use your remaining time wisely.”
On this day, I became terminally ill.