Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: Shadows of Oblivion
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"Why is she acting like that?"
Inebil spotted the woman too and asked in bewilderment. The woman, who had been running anxiously, soon tripped and fell. Guchi moved first.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Guchi approached her and said.
Inebil, watching him, whispered to Lander.
"You know, despite how he talks, that guy's actually a really kind person, right?"
He nodded and followed after Guchi.
Guchi had helped the fallen woman to her feet and was asking about her situation. Whether she was hurt anywhere, why she had been running so frantically.
"So... so..."
The woman spoke, mixing in frantic gestures. Her eyes darted around like a cat chasing a fly, her words disjointed.
She kept repeating "so" and then let out a wry chuckle.
Then she suddenly grabbed Guchi by the collar and exploded.
"It's your fault! You stole my clothes!"
"Miss, let go of my collar and talk."
Guchi tried to calm her gently, but she only gripped tighter.
Instead of the flustered Guchi, Lander stepped forward.
"Please calm down and tell us what's going on?"
The woman stared at him intently, then grabbed his collar this time.
Give me my clothes back, give me food, don't do this. She poured out incomprehensible words before suddenly bursting into laughter.
She grinned and hugged him.
"Daddy, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. I told you, didn't I? You can't go out. Okay?"
She stroked his face as she spoke.
Guchi opened his mouth.
"She doesn't seem to be in her right mind."
"Is she sick or something?"
Inebil chimed in.
He grabbed the woman's hand as it roamed his face. It wasn't unfamiliar.
Extreme mood swings, illogical speech, and those eyes that seemed to scan the past.
His wife, as she began losing her memories, had been much the same.
Crying one moment, laughing the next; raging, then turning cold.
Sometimes recognizing him, other times treating him like a total stranger.
"Yeah. Daddy's right here. I'm not going anywhere, so don't worry anymore."
He pretended to be the father of this woman whose name and face he didn't even know.
Relief washed over her face as she gripped his hand tightly. The confusion building in her expression gave way to peace.
"Riselra!"
A man's voice called from afar.
A man with crutches under his arms approached, his face on the verge of tears.
He reached her with difficulty, tossed aside his crutches, and knelt before her.
"Are you okay? You're not hurt anywhere?"
The woman looked at the man and asked.
"Who's this guy?"
"It's me, me! Gilliud! Your husband!"
"I don't know you. I don't know this person! Daddy! I don't know this guy."
Lander gently held back the woman burrowing into his arms and turned his gaze to the man.
The man who called himself Gilliud looked at her with eyes full of despair.
"Are you her husband?"
Lander asked.
"Yes, that's right. I'm sorry. My wife has been rude."
"No, no. More importantly, we should calm her down first."
"Wait a moment."
The man pulled a wooden doll from his pocket.
He placed the well-worn doll in her hand.
The woman, who had been endlessly calling for her daddy, quieted down once she clutched it.
She hummed a lullaby in a voice barely audible.
"I'm truly sorry."
The man slowly stood up.
His leg injury didn't seem too severe; he looked fine without the crutches.
Inebil linked arms with the woman and helped her up.
"Dear, let's rest a bit."
"Be quiet. Our baby is sleeping."
The woman said, cradling the wooden doll.
As her face softened with maternal affection, the man's grew stained with sorrow.
"Yeah. Let's go to the room so we don't wake the baby."
The man led her into the inn.
Before the door closed, he bowed in gratitude to the group.
"Poor guy at such a young age."
Guchi said.
"He looked about my age. Early to mid-twenties, probably."
Inebil replied.
A moment later, the man emerged from the inn.
He thanked them again profusely.
"If my leg wasn't like this, I could've taken better care of her. But I twisted it a little, and now it's like this."
The man gave an awkward smile.
"How is your wife's condition?"
He asked, gazing at the inn.
"She fell asleep. Fortunately, she sleeps well once she's lying down. Before Oblivion set in, she used to say sleeping was a waste of time and wander around outside..."
The man pressed his fingers to his brow, looking exhausted.
"So it's Oblivion."
As expected, he thought.
It was heartbreaking.
Having been through it himself, he could understand the man's feelings.
"She was such a healthy person. Her memory was far better than mine, incomparable. But one day, she started forgetting things badly, and now she doesn't even recognize me. I can only talk to her when her mind clears up occasionally. After years together, watching her not recognize my face..."
The man wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Along with an apology for rambling.
"Thank you so much earlier. But how did you calm my wife? She gets anxious without that doll."
"My wife had Oblivion too."
No further explanation was needed.
The man gave an "ah" of understanding, his expression softening.
He masked their shared sadness with a smile.
The man returned a faint smile before turning away.
Said he needed to be by his wife's side.
"Did your wife have Oblivion too?"
Inebil asked.
His tone was extremely cautious.
"Yes. She suffered from that disease."
Guchi approached and patted his shoulder.
"Let's head in now. The night air is cold."
"Right."
They entered the inn.
As they lay in bed trying to sleep, a woman's shouting voice rang out.
Come find Daddy, give me back my husband, I want to go home.
Then the man pleaded through tears.
It's me, dear, please stop, get a grip.
Lander pulled the blanket over his face.
A wave of melancholy hit him, but it soon faded.
Had he truly grieved his wife's death? The blurring sorrow tormented Lander.
Unlike that man, he hadn't grieved deeply, nor wept to the point of madness.
What was he, then?
And what could he find at the end of this journey?
Even amid his worries, sleep came peacefully.
This temperament that never lost its composure might be a curse.
* * *
Gilliud woke with a start, shivering.
His nape was stiff.
He had fallen asleep face-down on the bed.
Fortunately, his wife lay quietly.
Her beloved wooden doll placed by her head.
He took her hand that had slipped out from under the blanket.
Every time he woke, he prayed.
May this be a nightmare, a terribly long one, but one where he could smile upon waking.
But even after waking, his wife was still ill, and reality was more horrific than any nightmare.
"Riselra."
He brought her held hand to his forehead.
The warmth remained the same, yet the owner of that hand had become someone entirely different.
His wife no longer recognized him.
Every day, she threw tantrums searching for a nonexistent child, or her long-deceased father-in-law.
He endured, endured, and endured again.
There was nothing else he could do.
He wanted to say they'd overcome this nightmare together, that she could be cured, but her mind wasn't sound enough to hear it.
Where had the woman who chatted so amiably gone?
Where had the spirited girl who laughed boldly vanished to?
He sought out the village's best healers, but the answer was always the same.
Oblivion is a curse from the gods; give up.
He screamed it was a lie, demanded they cure her immediately, but nothing changed.
Threats and pleas meant nothing against an incurable disease.
His belief that time would heal her shattered after a year.
Her condition worsened day by day.
While others marched toward the future, his wife kept regressing into the past.
She forgot recent events one by one, and eventually began recalling things that never happened.
Still, all he could do was endure.
Endure her curses, her swinging fists, her tears, her sighs.
Gilliud gazed long at his sleeping wife's face before stepping outside.
It was deep into the night.
The chilly air was actually welcome.
The suffocating tightness in his chest eased, if only for a moment.
He sat on the stump in front of the inn and let out the breaths and tears he had been holding back.
He had to stay calm, he had to hold on.
Even as he steeled himself inwardly, the sobs were hard to suppress.
How long had he cried, face buried in his hands?
A sound came from behind.
It was that man, emerging from the inn's door.
The man who had calmed his wife.
He quickly wiped his face.
He didn't want a twenty-six-year-old man to see him bawling.
"Here, have some."
The man sat beside him and said.
A glass of liquor in hand.
He thanked him hoarsely and drank.
The bitter taste swept away the rising sobs.
"I've made a fool of myself."
Gilliud said.
"When something sad happens, you have to cry. That's what makes us human."
"Thank you so much for earlier today."
"No need."
The man sipped his liquor slowly.
Even drinking cheap booze, he exuded an inexplicable elegance.
Remembering what the man had said, he asked.
"You said your wife had the same disease as mine..."
"Yes."
"Was she cured by any chance?"
"She died."
The tone was chillingly calm.
Not from lack of emotion, but from having no more room to grieve.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No. I would've asked too. I was desperate myself."
He downed the remaining liquor in one gulp.
"It's a horrific disease. I've prayed countless times a day that this was a dream. Why did this happen to her? What sin did she commit?"
"It's a vicious illness."
"Did your wife forget the people around her like mine?"
The man nodded.
"She started forgetting one by one until she couldn't recognize me either. Things I remembered clearly vanished from her mind. Completely, terrifyingly so."
It was exactly the same.
He clenched his trembling hands from anxiety and asked.
"Did you try any treatments?"
"I tried everything I could, but nothing improved."
"Gods above."
He murmured a quiet prayer.
The man's experience would soon be his future.
His wife's illness wouldn't improve, and it would end in death.
"This can't be happening, it can't."
He pressed his clasped hands to his forehead.
It was too cruel.
Why had this disease struck his wife?
The man beside him steadied his shaking shoulders.
"Stay by her side. I couldn't. That's my greatest regret."
"I want to be with her forever. But I'm terrified she'll leave me. I don't have the confidence to live without her."
He trembled with the surging fear.
"No words of comfort will help now."
The man spoke calmly.
Strangely, those words brought some relief.
Because they came sincerely from someone sharing the same pain, Gilliud thought.
(To be continued)