The Line Between Human and Monster
Evan stared at Locke with a pitying expression. He had no intention of actually feeling sorry for the man, but the reason for his pity was simple: 'I didn't expect him to get beaten up that pathetically.'
The memory of what he'd witnessed flashed through his mind.
— Just die already! You piece of trash!
— Natasha! Listen to me…! Ugh!
— It's Natalia, and call me ma'am! Who the hell do you think you are, shortening my name like that?!
— N-Natalia ma'am! Aaaargh?! Not there…!
— You won't be using it anymore anyway! Move your hands so I can smash both of them! You won't?! So you're planning to use it on some other woman besides me?!
If a man could witness that scene and feel no sympathy for the hero, he probably wasn't a man at all.
Evan set down his teacup and asked, “Do you need healing?”
“……I'm fine.”
Thwack!
A hand immediately smacked the back of Locke's head.
“……I'm fine, Evan, sir.”
Clink. Natalia placed a teacup in front of Locke with an attitude that was worlds apart from how she treated Evan. Seeing her serve him tea at all, Evan briefly wondered if beating the man had eased some of her anger—but that was a mistake.
Bubble bubble.
“……”
The tea was so hot that bubbles were visibly rising in the cup.
“……I'll take this one.”
Locke stared at the tea for a moment, then gulped it down with a look of grim resolve.
“Guhhh……”
'Seeing him like this makes all my contingency plans feel ridiculous.' Maybe he hadn't needed to leave the Holy Spear with Iris or tell Natalia the trigger for her curse after all.
“Hero.”
“Huu… ugh… ehh.”
“……Talking like this won't work.”
Evan healed Locke, whose tongue and throat were practically cooked.
“Thank… I mean, thank you.”
“Just speak comfortably.”
Evan had never cared when Alphonse called him a devil and spoke down to him, but Locke's current attitude bothered him. He gave Natalia a small glance, and she nodded before leaving the drawing room. Now only Evan and Locke remained.
“Have you set your standards yet?”
“……I still don't quite understand what you mean by that.”
Locke rubbed the rim of his empty teacup with his finger and spoke bitterly. “Abaddon's Devil. I remember what you did. That flame that brutally massacred nearly ten thousand people—I couldn't forget it even if I tried.”
Evan didn't deny it. They had been an example. If Locke hadn't immediately inherited the Holy Spear, he would have killed every last one of them.
“But… the you I heard about from Natasha's story was different. You were someone who showed kindness to others for no reason, someone who could save people.”
Locke asked, clearly confused. “Are you a king only for the dead… for the undead? Is that why you're kind to Natalia, who is already dead, yet so cruel to the living? What exactly is your standard?”
It was a question Evan hadn't answered the first time Locke asked, but this time he opened his mouth. Unlike before, Locke was now genuinely searching for an answer.
“No one is born with the words 'human' or 'monster' written on their forehead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Patricide, cannibalism, pleasure killings, infanticide.”
Each one was a crime that would make people frown and point fingers.
“People usually say this about those who commit such sins without any sign of remorse, or even enjoy them: devil, worse than a beast, or…”
“I agree. By my standards, those kinds of beings aren't treated as human.”
Even if they were biologically born human, if they did things no different from monsters, they weren't human. That was one of Evan's standards.
“Then, thinking in reverse, is there any reason not to treat a monster who does human things as 'a human wearing monster skin'?”
That was his second standard. No matter how one was born, no matter what corruption or distortion they underwent, if they acted like a human, they were human.
“I have no intention of forcing my standards on you, hero. But when you look at her, was Natalia any different from the person she was in life? Did she seem like a monster to you?”
“……”
“If you want, you can look around a bit more. At least all the undead in this mansion are beings I've acknowledged and accepted as 'human.'”
Originally, Evan had planned to negotiate about the Holy Spear right then and there, but he changed his approach slightly. Cooperation gained by holding a knife to someone's throat was far less effective than loyalty given willingly. Since he saw that possibility in the current Locke, waiting a little longer wasn't a waste of time.
“Oh, right. I forgot to mention one thing.”
“What is it?”
“I'm borrowing the Holy Spear for a while, so don't try to take it out.”
“……You're borrowing it?”
At Locke's wary expression, Evan let out a small chuckle. “Not me. I couldn't even hold it in the first place.”
“Then who is using it, and for what?”
“The Saintess is using it for farming.”
Locke wondered if he'd heard wrong and doubted his own ears.
“She's been determined to make something sprout for the past few days. If you try to take it from her, you won't hear anything pleasant.”
“…Is that a joke?”
“Go out to the garden. It's starting again right now.”
. . .
After finishing his conversation with Evan and heading down to the garden, Locke realized that his words hadn't been exaggeration or metaphor—they were simply the truth.
“Natalia, is this how I do it?”
“Got it!”
The Holy Spear was being used like a shovel in Iris's hands. The divine power it contained seeped into Abaddon's soil, helping to purify the surroundings. A lich flew around the Saintess, sprinkling water.
“Ah, it's cold! Scary uncle, you're doing that on purpose!”
“Scary uncle started it first!”
That voice clearly belonged to the being who had descended from the sky with black flames back then. To think such a being was now reduced to watering duty. Even seeing it with his own eyes, Locke felt a sense of cognitive dissonance.
“Are you the master of the Holy Spear?”
“……You are.”
Locke flinched at the voice that suddenly came from beside him. A maid who looked far too human. But recalling the story he'd heard from Evan earlier and seeing those distinctive reverse eyes—with black sclera and white irises—he had no doubt about her identity.
“You too… are an undead?”
“That is correct. I am Kaede, the Living Jiangshi serving as head maid of this mansion.”
Kaede greeted him with refined courtesy.
“I am in charge of supporting the living humans in this mansion, so if you need anything or have questions, please let me know.”
“What are they doing over there?”
“They are planting seeds. I would like to help as well, but I have many duties and know absolutely nothing about farming, so I left it to Natalia, who is at least an expert.”
“What kind of seeds…?”
Locke had imagined some extraordinary medicinal herbs or living plants meant to repel intruders, but the answer that came back was painfully ordinary.
“Sunflowers.”
“……Sunflowers?”
“Have you never seen them? They are flowers with striking yellow petals that resemble the sun.”
“Why… that?”
“Master gave Iris sunflower seeds as a gift, and Iris said she wanted to make them bloom here.”
It was such a human reason. So human that he almost suspected they were all conspiring to trick him.
“Jiangshi big sister! Ugh, and the ugly uncle.”
Iris must have spotted them. She approached with a bright smile and quick steps, but her expression turned into one of reluctant distaste when she saw Locke.
“Ugly uncle, I can't give you the spear right now. I have to farm.”
“…Aren't you supposed to return to the Holy Kingdom before the flowers even bloom?”
At Locke's perfectly reasonable question, Iris growled back.
“I'm not going!”
“……Not going?”
“If I say I'm not going, then I'm not going!”
Words about the Saintess's duties and responsibilities rose to the tip of his tongue, but Iris ran off as if she didn't want to hear them. Then Natalia approached with a cold attitude. Though her expression couldn't be seen, her characteristically tilted stance when angry was clear. The subtle violence in the air, as if she might reach out at any moment—it was all exactly as Locke remembered.
That's why he couldn't help but ask.
“Is it really you?”
What came back instead of an answer was a kick.
“Ugh?!”
Locke hadn't known it would hurt this much not to be able to see the expression on her now-bony face.
Locke couldn't give any answer.
“……”
Without knowing if that was really the answer he'd wanted, Locke stared blankly as Natalia turned and walked away. The lich clicked its tongue, muttered something, and returned to its watering duties.
Only Kaede remained. She simply stood silently by his side, and Locke asked self-mockingly, “Are you trying to decide what insults to throw at me?”
“I will not insult you. I am merely contemplating how to guide you according to my master's intentions.”
“……Don't you think you're being excessively honest?”
“Because I believe my master has already foreseen even this.”
Kaede spoke calmly. “Master has said time and again that necromancy is never resurrection. Resurrection is a miracle that is not permitted.”
“Then what are all of you?”
“If one person's life is a book, then necromancy is the act of rewriting the book's ending.”
“……”
“So we are probably different beings from who we were when we were alive. No matter how beautifully or prettily it is written, it is not the original author's book.”
Kaede closed her eyes for a moment before slowly continuing. “But master of the Holy Spear, do you truly wish for Natalia's story to end with the sentence 'She waited for you until the very end, fell ill, and died'?”
At those words, Locke's eyes widened as if he'd realized something, then he laughed hollowly. Evan's words about setting standards. The lich's comparison between a happy blind man and an unhappy wise man—he thought he finally understood what they meant.
“He really is far greater than I am.”
“He is a man who does not waver. At least, he has not wavered once since I met him.”
“But isn't this too honest? I might end up hating your master because of this…”
…Was it a split personality?