Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Resentment Wished Upon the Stars -3
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Day three of staying at Abraham's house.
Bennett used magic to reinforce the mansion—alert spells for detecting intruders, interception magic, and the like. Finally, he could enjoy some sweet sleep. Until then, he'd been pulling all-nighters to hold out.
Niore suggested once more that she could take the night watch so he should get some rest, but he still didn't fully trust her. Sure, if a suspicious person snuck in, she could peer into every detail—where they hid their weapon, which hand they favored, even the most trivial habits.
But if that shady character was cradling a newborn baby and tugging at her heartstrings? She'd fall for it hook, line, and sinker.
Tara had grown surprisingly close to Abraham. He wasn't sure why, but now she called him just by name, dropping the "professor" entirely. Her excuse? "You said I need to gather info, so I've been at it all day. Got a problem?" Anyone could see she was enjoying herself.
And Niore? She was on day three of agonizing over whether to read that diary she'd found earlier. Every time she dozed off, she felt this pull, like she was being sucked into somewhere in her dreams.
It gave off the same eerie vibe as the sensation from the diary, leaving her torn on whether to investigate or not.
On the daily life front, things were settling in. They'd divvied up chores: Niore handled cleaning the mansion, Bennett tackled the heavy lifting and occasional defense duties, and Tara... well, she lounged around doing nothing.
Then one day, it all kicked off at the dinner table.
#2: Abraham's Research
Tara gripped her knife and sliced the sunny-side-up egg's yolk clean in half. The gooey golden center oozed out. She speared some bacon with her fork, dipped it in the yolk, and took a big bite. Mmm.
Savoring the morning flavors dancing across her tongue, Tara turned to Abraham.
"So, Abraham, what do you do anyway?"
As the old man opened his mouth to explain, Bennett jabbed his fork toward Tara with a sharp glare.
"Don't talk with food in your mouth."
"Mind your own damn business how I eat!"
"I can see everything you've got in there. Kills my appetite."
"Then shove your face in your plate!"
As Tara snarled at Bennett, Niore scribbled on her whiteboard and held it up high.
"If Niore says so..."
Bennett clenched his fist briefly, seething with injustice. Why's the saintess always on my case? Is it my face?
He glanced at the mirror. Sure, there was a scar across half his face, but it wasn't like he was hideous or anything...
Abraham watched the exchange with a warm smile, like he was seeing bickering siblings. It was the harmonious family scene he'd once dreamed up in his imagination.
The old man chewed his bacon thoroughly, swallowed, and answered Tara's question.
"On lecture days, I teach. On free days, I do research. Curious about what kind?"
"Yeah! You always head up to the roof after sunset."
"No reason to hide it. Care to join me after dinner? Not just you, Tara—the rest of you too. It'll be a memorable experience, I promise."
Abraham's eyes sparkled with the pure wonder of a child. He clearly poured his heart into his work.
The group, all curious about his research, nodded in their own ways.
And so, come evening, Abraham led them to the roof after dinner.
Up the trapdoor from the second floor, and there it was—the mansion's rooftop. Scattered around were stacks of thick paper and quill pens, a primitive calculator, astronomy books galore, and a massive, elongated telescope.
"I teach astronomy at the university."
"Astronomy... you mean astrology?"
Bennett's question earned a slow headshake from Abraham.
"Assigning meanings to stars and making wishes is romantic, but not a scientist's job. We observe. We analyze. Our calling is to unravel the countless mysteries, one star at a time—like the night sky above."
Abraham pointed to the heavens with a wrinkled finger. Stars twinkled on the black canvas, the moon gazing down with a gentle smile.
Yet the old man's eyes seemed to read far more.
"How stars are born, age, and die. What's in the voids between them. The pull of their gravity. And countless other unknowns we battle."
"They burn for times humans can't fathom without dying. To our short lives, the cosmos looks eternal. But nothing lasts forever."
"Lately, the skies have been unusually clear—perfect for stargazing. And we've got a great specimen tonight. Want a peek?"
Abraham gently caressed the tripod-mounted behemoth of a telescope. Tara bolted first, plopping into the chair in front. Niore queued up behind, eyes wide with excitement.
Under the old man's guidance, Tara peered into the night sky. Amid the pitch-black void, pinpoint lights twinkled like embedded gems.
"That one's shining extra bright."
"Stars vary like people. Over there's a fun constellation..."
Tara ogled the heavens for ages, stubbornly holding out against Niore's insistent back-pokes urging her to hurry up. She asked Abraham star names, listened, and shared her thoughts.
Only when Abraham gently chided her to let her friend have a turn did Tara finally yield, nodding like a kid seeking attention. Niore claimed her prize.
To Niore, this world's stars felt... closer than her own. Both impossibly distant, yet staring up filled her with a strange intimacy.
Like they might come crashing down any second.
Shivers ran down her spine, a mix of eerie dread and cosmic allure. Mouth agape, she counted them one by one.
Bennett, not one for telescopes, gazed at the naked sky and remarked,
"So, your research is watching stars?"
"More precisely... lately, I've been studying bizarre changes in the night sky."
"Changes? In the night sky?"
"Yes, quite odd. Started five years back. Stars vanishing overnight. New ones appearing where none were. Distances between them stretching suddenly... even constellations warping. Wait—did you see that?"
"......"
A star winked out. Bennett clearly saw it swallowed by the dark. A tiny visual shift, yet it chilled him to the core.
Abraham testified to the universe's upheavals. Cosmic timescales dwarf human ones; visible changes demand accumulated history.
Yet here they were—abrupt, ongoing shifts.
The patient cosmos had turned impatient, humanity the slow one. The universe fidgeted like fire ants on hot coals, reshaping itself.
Old constellations crumbled; new ones formed alien, grotesque shapes. Too fast for human minds to keep up.
The aged astronomer voiced his hypothesis.
"I suspect some colossal energy, invisible to human eyes... is sweeping through our universe. Like how a storm tangles all nature, a cosmic disaster must be passing."
"A storm... you say."
"Indeed. A vast cosmic storm beyond human control. I'm tracking its direction—toward Earth? Away? Just grazing by?"
"......"
Bennett pictured the hypothetical calamity. A grand mage's Meteor Collision could obliterate a city. What if this star-erasing force approached? Vaguely, he saw an invisible giant hand.
Slowly engulfing an ant.
Whatever the details, one truth stood out.
"We'll all die."
"Fleetingly scatter. Humanity's civilizations, knowledge, history—all to cosmic dust. The universe will forget we ever existed."
"......"
"I'm calculating the relative acceleration α. If over 1, it's heading our way. Under 1? Humanity's lucky break."
The death of all things. Bennett had never contemplated it. Even if he died somewhere, the world would go on. Only madmen pondered apocalypse.
Enemies, friends, earth, grass, wind—all to dust. Utter futility.
In that void, only gods would remain.
A strange emotion gripped Bennett—overwhelming yet hollow, laced with dread. An indefinable "bad feeling." So he asked Abraham,
"Calculations done?"
"A few more days for data. But one old man and a calculator can't handle it. Gauging the universe needs vast numbers. I'll need help from friends."
"Help how?"
"One's got a fascinating device—brainpower beyond human brains. 'Brain in a Jar,' I think. Could borrow it for the math...
Abraham stroked his beard.
"Miskatonic University houses a math ghost. Lot Russell from the department. Touchy, neurotic chap, but the best with numbers I know. He might crack α."
Having outlined the two paths to computing α, he wrapped up. Glancing at Tara,
"Late nights chill you. Tara's cheeks are rosy already. Head down? I'll brew hot cocoa—a sip, and you'll sleep like a log."
"Sure, Abraham! Second cabinet from the left, right? I'll help!"
"Very well."
Explanation over. Tara supported Abraham down the trapdoor stairs. Bennett started to follow but spotted Niore still glued to the telescope. He tapped her shoulder.
"Niore?"
"......Ah."
She jolted hard, letting out a clumsy, babyish squeak. Eyes wide, she stared at Bennett.
"......Did I scare you?"
"Yeah. Said he'd make cocoa. You like that, right?"
Niore hopped up and toddled off. What had her so absorbed? Curiosity piqued, Bennett sat and peered through.
Nothing.
"......?"
The patch of sky Niore had eyed was a starless void, silent and empty. Maybe her sharp eyes caught something special.
Bennett strained for a while but saw zilch. Shrugging it off, he was the last to leave the roof.
Later, Bennett unknowingly guzzled the special marshmallow cocoa Tara had made for herself.
Tara grabbed his collar and shook him like a ragdoll over it.
#3: The Threatening Letter
Living together, Abraham had one firm request: Don't open parcels without a sender marked.
He even overlooked Tara's mess-making with a chuckle, so this piqued their curiosity big time.
Tara followed it unquestioningly, but Niore and Bennett? They watched for chances like hawks.
While Abraham was off lecturing at Miskatonic University,
Tara got chased off by Bennett's nagging—"Clean your damn room for once; this ain't a pigsty, it's a home. What're you spilling everywhere?" She'd be scrubbing for a while.
And right there: an unmarked parcel.
"Could be a trap. Stay sharp."
"Smell, huh..."
Bennett drew his longsword for the first time in ages—ready to cleave any pint-sized undead. Niore carefully prodded the box open from afar with her staff.
"......!"
Niore grimaced, clamped her mouth, and backed away two steps. Bennett tsked at the contents.
A brutally mutilated cat corpse and a single collage warning note.
ABRAHAM SHALL CEASE HIS RESEARCH AND OBEY THE WILL OF GOD.
A chilling warning. Given Abraham's request, these threats must've piled up.
The culprit? Likely tied to those shady lurkers watching the mansion. Circumstances suggested it wouldn't stop at warnings.
"......Trying to halt his research. Why?"
"Agreed. They might raid while we're crashing here..."
The reason? A mystery yet unsolved.