Chapter 240
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 240
Chapter Title: Needless Thoughts.
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"You could have just fixed my body, but to go so far as to use precious medicine and extend my lifespan... How truly merciful of you."
"To give someone more time to feel their pain and regrets—can that really be called mercy?"
"There are plenty of people who'd give up their entire fortune just to feel that pain and regret a little longer."
"Hmph. You sure know how to talk."
Rimon spoke with utter nonchalance.
Maia let out a cynical snort.
Hermann stared blankly at the two of them conversing as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. Before he knew it, the words slipped out.
"...Is it really possible to artificially extend a person's lifespan?"
"What kind of obvious question is that?"
Rimon chuckled.
The average human lifespan had once barely reached fifty years.
It wasn't just because of wars, bandits, or natural disasters claiming so many lives.
Diseases of all kinds—infectious illnesses, food poisoning, parasites—had gnawed away at their years.
Even pneumonia, something treatable today with simple antibiotics, had once boasted a mortality rate over 30 percent. Survivors were left with severe aftereffects, and it was regarded as a disease of terror.
In that sense, medicine and healing were practically the history of humanity battling its innate lifespan limits.
Asking now if it was possible to artificially extend life was at least a few thousand years too late.
But above all, Rimon had a particular reason to scoff at the question.
"Hey, Mr. Sculptor. Who do you think it was that treated you?"
"..."
Only then did it dawn on Hermann.
This cynical, pessimistic woman was the pinnacle of the clan that had led the advancement of human medicine from the Bronze Age to the present day.
The unrivaled master of life, death, illness, and old age, in creating medicines and curing diseases—a position no one had yet surpassed.
The Green Dragon Princess, who had inherited the title of the world's greatest physician for centuries.
Maia sneered at Hermann, who shuddered as realization sank into his chest rather than his mind.
"Don't get too excited. As I said earlier, his treatment isn't finished yet."
"Hm... So the illness itself hasn't been fully cured?"
"That's right."
The sense that the disease had lifted was merely because the extended lifespan had eased the symptoms, hiding them from view.
How much damage the aftermath might have left behind was still unknown.
Rimon gave a gentle smile as he gazed at the coldly speaking Maia.
"Then we just need to check."
"I already have a full examination prepared, even without you saying so."
"Do we really need something as thorough as that?"
Rimon shook his head.
He turned to Hermann, who still looked dazed, and spoke with a meaningful expression.
"There's a much better way to test the sculptor's body. Isn't there, Mr. Sculptor?"
A moment later.
Hermann swallowed dryly as he stared at the golden carving knife inside the glass case.
He glanced back and forth between Rimon, who grinned as he took it out and set it down, and Maia, who watched him with sharp eyes.
Steel ing himself, he picked up the carving knife.
■ ⇒ ●
Τέλεια μπάλα
(Perfect Ball)
The golden glow emanating from the carving knife revealed the same symbols and the same challenge.
Toward the task he had failed midway through before and hadn't even dared to attempt again, Hermann reached out without hesitation.
Crunch, craaunch!
Shavings of light peeled away as the cubic block swiftly transformed into a sphere.
The usual pain that had always come didn't appear.
His hands didn't tremble, nor did the knife slip, even without forcing down the shakes.
It was something so natural for a healthy person that it inspired no emotion at all.
But for Hermann, who had suffered from illness for years, this normalcy was profoundly moving and ecstatic.
He moved his hands.
The sculpture was carved away.
According to his own sound will.
With his own two hands, he brought the perfect image in his mind into reality.
As the sculpture drew closer to his ideal, a swelling sense of accomplishment welled up.
A euphoria sweeter than century-aged wine, more fantastical than any narcotic, intoxicated him, drawing him wholly into the act of sculpting.
And at last, the moment his imagined image perfectly overlapped with the glowing sphere...
Bang, pop-bang!
"...Hoo."
Like fireworks exploding, a brilliant burst of light erupted. The two orbs floating in the air spun round and round before scattering.
Unlike his previous failure, where it had shattered to pieces, this was unmistakable success.
Only after seeing it did Hermann snap out of his immersion, his face a mix of pride and regret.
But Maia's gaze as she watched remained icy, and even Rimon kept his composure.
"At least sculpting doesn't seem to be an issue."
"We'll have to observe him at least until the next stage to be sure."
"Hmph, no need to state the obvious."
As Hermann grew puzzled by Maia's cold scrutiny—like observing a lab rat—and Rimon's cryptic words...
The scattered golden glow gathered in the air once more, forming a new shape and letters.
■ ⇒ ♀
πάντων χρημάτων μέτρον ἐστὶν ἄνθρωπος.
(Man is the measure of all things)
"...!"
The instant he saw it...
Hermann's eyes went wide.
He had already known this carving knife's test had a second stage, far more difficult than the first.
But the challenge that appeared after the perfect sphere utterly surpassed his imagination.
'The Venus de Milo...!'
The epitome of ancient Greek aesthetics, one of the finest sculptures embodying the golden ratio perfectly.
What truly shocked Hermann was that this Venus statue had both arms intact.
The existing Venus de Milo lacks arms.
Its fame grew precisely because the missing arms made it seem even more beautiful, and Hermann had always thought the same.
He had only occasionally imagined what it might look like with arms.
But the fully armed Venus de Milo before him far exceeded any such fancy.
How should he describe this sculpture?
Beautiful? Noble? Divine?
Regrettably, every word was dismissed the moment it arose.
Describing it with such paltry terms felt like an insult to the statue.
After cycling through countless words only to reject them, one expression remained in Hermann's mind.
Perfection.
An absolute beauty that could only be captured in that single word emanated from this Venus.
'I have to sculpt this?'
Even the first stage's perfect sphere had demanded flawless carving, allowing not even a speck of dust's error.
Sculpting a full-body figure at that level would exponentially increase the difficulty.
Not to mention if the subject was this flawless statue?
'...Now I get why Senap and Ming gave up.'
Hermann muttered inwardly.
He hadn't understood why his rivals had recommended him, but now it made sense.
This was a test that would drive even a top-tier sculptor to despair—especially because they were top-tier.
Hermann himself felt his mouth go dry with tension.
But he didn't back down.
Compared to the despair of his illness, this was nothing.
Above all, his sculptor's burning passion and ambition turned even that despair into fuel, igniting his drive further.
His eyes gleaming like a challenger facing a formidable foe, Hermann slowly moved the carving knife.
From the jade throne in the artificial garden at the lowest level of Quetzalcoatl, she gazed silently at the flowerbed for a long while.
Then Maia suddenly asked,
"What are you feeling?"
"Feeling about what?"
"The sculptor who sold himself into slavery just to beg for treatment—he couldn't fulfill what you wanted."
As if mocking the folly of selling one's dignity for an unattainable hope.
Maia wore a cold sneer.
Rimon's answer to her question was simple.
"Anticipation."
"...Anticipation for what?"
This right after watching Hermann pour his passion into sculpting, only to fail the Venus due to trembling hands.
Why speak of anticipation instead of disappointment or regret?
As Maia furrowed her brow and pressed, Rimon replied innocently.
"He pulled off that much sculpting with a body not even fully healed yet. Imagine what he'll do once fully cured—doesn't that get you excited?"
"Hmph. You think he can be fully cured?"
"Well, you're the one who said his treatment isn't done yet, Lady Maia."
"Don't forget, I'm the one who said I can't guarantee a full recovery either."
"But you didn't say it was impossible."
Who else could he trust if not the world's greatest physician, to whom he'd entrusted the patient?
Maia fell silent for a moment as she regarded the brazen Rimon.
Then she sneered.
"Living positively is fine, but remember—the greater the hope, the greater the despair."
Even as she watched Maia's pessimistic demeanor, so unlike a healer who saved lives, Rimon remained unshaken.
He merely smiled gently and replied.
"Still better than having no hope at all."
Perhaps irked by his audacity...
Her already sharp eyes narrowed further as she glared at him for a moment.
Then Maia spoke sharply.
"You may leave for today."
"If that's your wish, Lady Maia, gladly."
Bowing politely as if it were only natural for a slave to obey his master's command, Rimon exited the artificial garden.
Maia stared piercingly at his retreating figure long after he was gone, finally muttering to herself.
'In terms of inscrutability, he's truly like the Black Dragon Clan.'
Maia knew well.
When a treatment failed.
Or even succeeded, but fell short of expectations.
The resentment and distrust in the eyes of the patient or their guardians.
Hermann was a prime example.
He had been overjoyed at first, practically leaping for joy at being able to sculpt again.
But when his trembling hands caused him to fail the statue, that joy vanished as if it had been a lie, replaced by despair.
'Even without the psyonic factor, what a bizarre man.'
Yet Rimon showed no disappointment whatsoever.
It wasn't resignation or giving up, born of zero expectations.
Nor did it seem like feigned regret to flatter or show manners.
An inexplicable trust that only Maia could treat Hermann, and if she couldn't, it was impossible anyway.
And a casual attitude that if worst came to worst, they could find another way.
This nonchalance felt utterly alien to her.
'Why doesn't he fear me?'
Above all, those eyes were strange.
Even in the Seven Dragon Society, she was an object of aversion.
Not just her fellow Green Dragon clansmen— even close aides like Barbara or Arvelra offered reverence and loyalty, always laced with fear.
But Rimon's eyes held not a trace of terror.
Like looking at a sulking child.
Or handling a wounded beast.
Always calm and composed, with only a unflappable coolness.
'Just a skilled actor?'
'Or...?'
Only one person in all this time.
That gaze, reminiscent of someone she had last seen long ago, made Maia unconsciously wear a wistful expression.
But it lasted only a moment.
"...Needless thoughts."
As if mocking herself for entertaining vain hopes after preaching their futility, Maia sneered.
Whether Rimon truly knew no fear.
Or was merely hiding it.
Nothing would change.
She was the Green Dragon Princess.
Among the Seven Princesses of the Seven Dragon Society, born solitary from her egg, she was the most isolated—and the one who had to be.
The Princess of Death.
As always.
Rejecting all others' approach.
In her garden of countless medicinal and poisonous herbs, she gently closed her eyes.