Death Anniversary (8)

I still don't know why Lucy wanted that necklace so desperately. The memories of Lucy that were given to me ended in the very depths of despair.

But that doesn't mean I can't guess at the reason. What drove the Lucy of that time were the memories Mira left behind before her death—so it isn't hard to infer why she would yearn for something so endlessly similar to the necklace Mira used to wear.

Surely the Lucy of back then saw her mother's shadow in that necklace.

Because I knew this, I chose that necklace as my gift to Mira. I brought it out to convey the longing and the sorrow that Lucy carried.

The thought that something was strange never once crossed my mind. Jewelry designs inevitably follow the fashions of their era, after all.

Merely because the shapes were alike was no reason to tilt my head—the world is full of identical trinkets, isn't it?

But not anymore. From the moment the Heojeop Chief God's divinity settled into this necklace, it became unmistakably clear that He had orchestrated this very moment.

Heojeop Chief God. You have been watching Lucy for a very, very long time, haven't you. You watched as she grieved. You stood by in silence while she crumbled under the pain of a curse called a Blessing.

If the Lucy of the past had learned this truth, she would surely have hurled curses without end.

She would have spat every ounce of her pent-up rage at an incompetent god.

And I'm no different, even now.

I still detest the Heojeop Chief God's incompetence; I look upon him, playing his little jokes and pretending to be cheerful, with nothing but disdain.

I do not like a being who heaps crushing burdens upon a girl not even grown into womanhood.

But I do not hate him. Nor do I despise him.

I know his intentions are good.

I know he grieves, just the same, over the sorrows that unfold upon the earth.

I know his heart aches over his own powerlessness.

I know he offered Phoebe a sincere apology—and so I know that he is merely incompetent, not wicked.

And so, setting personal feelings aside, I will not curse him. I don't know how the Lucy that remains somewhere within my heart would judge him, but at the very least, I will not.

Considering the Heojeop Chief God's nature, what was entrusted to that necklace was likely his own awkward form of apology.

With that thought, I smiled and examined the necklace through Appraisal.

Apologizing to Mira in my heart, I picked the necklace back up.

The hopelessly incompetent Heojeop Chief God had failed to properly deliver even what He Himself had arranged—but it was no problem.

After all, the Chief God's Apostle was right here.

It isn't that I serve Him by choice, but even so, as His proxy, ought I not finish what He could not?

After a deep breath, I drew up the Chief God's divinity and breathed it into the necklace.

And then I understood. There is a reason miracles are called miracles.

Damn it. This is absurdly complicated. What's the point of making even the simple act of pouring in divinity this hard?

...It's fine. Calm down. You've pulled off a miracle once before, haven't you? Compared to what you did at Menesteil, this is nothing.

"Lucy. Are you truly certain you can do this?"

'...I'm sorry, what?'

"Can a former specimen of the beast-like knights of old—such as yourself—truly hope to comprehend this? That is what I ask."

'No—why are you picking a fight out of nowhere?! Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes right now?!'

What is wrong with this man all of a sudden?! He teases plenty, sure, but he's never been someone who completely can't read a room! Is it senility? He's finally gone senile!

"And yet, it seems to me there is one standing beside you who might be called an expert on the matter."

Hearing the mischief in Grandpa's voice, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I understood what he was getting at and let out an awkward laugh.

'Can't you just say you'll help me?'

"I fear I don't follow. No one has asked me for help."

Talking with Grandpa, the heaviness in my chest—the sorrow born of Lucy's grief—settled, at least a little.

'Grandfather. You told me a while ago that I wasn't being honest with myself, but I think the same goes for you.'

"*Ahem.*"

'Fine. Grandfather. Please help me. Guide me, so that I can work this miracle.'

"If you beg so earnestly, I suppose I have no choice. Now—first, spread out your domain of divinity. Ease of handling the divinity is what matters most. And after that..."

The moment I asked, he reeled off instructions as though he'd been waiting for exactly this. Following his lead, I poured my divinity, little by little, into the miracle held within the necklace.

The process was so intricate that I failed countless times over, but Grandpa never once scolded me. He only ever told me what to do next.

The saving grace was that, listening to his explanations, I grew steadily more adept at handling divinity.

At first, a single instruction cost me failure upon failure, but gradually those failures dwindled, until at last there were times I passed to the next step without stumbling at all.

Of course, that only means my mistakes lessened. There was still so much I didn't understand, and I kept failing, again and again.

How long did that go on? Refusing to give up, trying and trying and trying—I finally, perfectly, recreated the miracle sealed within the necklace.

'Grandfather! It worked! I finally did it!'

"Haha. I can see you're overjoyed, but steady yourself a moment. Must we not first see what unfolds?"

'Then let me just say thank you for helping me! Really—thank you! Grandfather!'

Having said the most important thing, I watched, heart pounding, as the miracle the Chief God had arranged began to unfold.

What had the Heojeop Chief God meant to tell Lucy? He, who had watched that suffering child with sorrowful eyes—what had he left behind?

The countless thoughts swirling in my head collapsed at a single voice slipping into my ear.

The tears that had paused came pouring out all over again, and I could not possibly continue thinking.

It was all I could do to hold onto my reason, but I suppressed every sound that threatened to escape my lips.

Because only then could the Lucy dwelling somewhere inside my heart hear this voice, clear and vivid.

So that Lucy could hear the voice her mother wished to send her, clear and vivid.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"...Mama."

"...Yes, Mama."

Through the tears, I could see the Chief God's divinity growing dim. The miracle was drawing to its close.

"...No. No!"

"It's still too early! It's too soon, you stupid Heojeop Chief God!"

Eyes fixed on Him, I hurriedly tried to pour my divinity into the necklace—but it was impossible. The necklace was rejecting me.

"This is all there is?! You're cutting out after barely this much, and I'm the one left gasping?!"

"Please! Please! Please..."

As the Chief God's divinity guttered out, the burial chamber regained its original chill.

And in the middle of it, clutching the necklace with both hands, I dragged up my divinity with everything I had.

I tried, somehow, somehow, to work the miracle once more.

"Lucy."

'Grandfather! Help me, quickly! There's still so much left that I need to hear! There have to be words left that I must hear!'

"That necklace has lost its miracle. No matter how you struggle, child."

"Cut the crap and help me! Right now! I'm—right now—!..."

Mid-shout, my mind flooded white.

No.

No.

I can't collapse yet.

I mustn't collapse.

I am...

I will, without fail...

When I came to again, I was lying on the bed in my room.

I was staring blankly at the familiar ceiling when I felt a strange emptiness in my hand, jolted upright in alarm—and then pitched forward as dizziness came rushing up.

"Steady yourself. Your body, as of this moment..."

'My necklace! Where's my necklace?! The necklace!'

"...Is it not hanging about your neck?"

Forcing my arm to move, I groped at my chest, and only after confirming the necklace's presence did I let out a long breath of relief.

"You drained your divinity to the very bottom and collapsed from exhaustion. Even for you, Lucy, it will take several days of rest before you are yourself again."

Ah. No wonder my body wouldn't cooperate.

I suppose this is about how I felt after finishing things at Menesteil.

I couldn't stay keeled over forever, so I forced myself upright—and promptly toppled backward, my head sinking into the pillow.

'...Um. Grandfather. I'm sorry. It's just...'

"If anyone should be apologizing, it is I. I should have calmed you down gently, but I was far too hasty."

Grandpa's heartfelt apology left me speechless. Normally I'd have teased him that it was all his fault, but with what happened in the burial chamber still fresh, I couldn't bring myself to.

"Lucy."

'...Yes?!'

"About the miracle held within that necklace."

'Ah. That.'

In the burial chamber, I'd been too swept up in emotion to face what he was saying, but now, calmed at least somewhat, I knew he'd been right.

That miracle had merely been something crafted by borrowing the Heojeop Chief God's power. With His power now dispersed, this necklace was nothing more than an ordinary necklace.

'It's okay, Grandfather. I'm disappointed, but still...'

"I remember the miracle's very composition. If we analyze it steadily from here on, one day you will come to understand its method."

'...I'm sorry—what?'

"I mean that you will be able to recreate it. Just as you recreated the feats from my old tales, Lucy."

'That's actually possible?'

"I am Ruel, the legendary holy knight, if you recall. For one who has wrought countless miracles in his day, this much is nothing at all."

Grandpa—no, Grandfather Ruel—declared it in a voice that rang with unshakable confidence.

"Miracles can be recreated, Lucy."

'...'

"So hone your strength until that day comes. Until you can work miracles with your own two hands."

'...Yes, Grandfather.'

Gripping the necklace tight in one hand, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠covered my face with the other.

"You still had tears left in you, I see."

'...Right? It amazes even me.'

"Heh. At this rate, I fear you'll wear yourself out all over again."

'By the way, Grandfather.'

"What is it."

'Aren't you embarrassed, calling yourself a legendary holy knight with your own mouth?'

"...Perhaps I have talked too much today. I grow weary. I shall rest a while."

Says it himself, then gets embarrassed over it. Unbelievable.

I snorted a laugh, promptly choked on it, spent a long while coughing, and sank back into sleep.

And when I opened my eyes once more, that detestable blue window was hanging right in front of me.

The only difference from usual was—

—the fact that the word Reward was written there.