A Lunch Where Bonds Pass By (1)
The difficult customer had suddenly turned kind.
And then he got a religious sales pitch.
So THAT'S why she was being nice! I knew it!
Lian sat slumped on the stool behind the counter, shifting his aching body about. At Amone's suggestion that he learn Recovery Magic, he donned his commercial smile and picked up the longsword propped beside him.
So this is what it feels like when you try, and barely fail, to befriend a skittish squirrel.
Amone ran a hand down her expressionless face and leaned against the counter.
"That is not what this is."
"I haven't even said anything yet."
"You were about to, though."
Sunlight streamed through the front window. Its warmth settled over the black coffin laid on the floor.
The black curtain covering the Back Window swayed gloomily.
The bloodstains were gone, the sound of rain had stopped—
All that remained now was to finish their business and part ways.
But Amone, apparently still having matters to attend to, glided silently over the counter and approached him.
Footsteps as quiet as a wild animal's.
Before long, she bent at the waist and brought her eyes level with his.
"……"
Violet eyes drew right up to the tip of his nose.
Certainly, if she just kept her mouth shut, she was a beautiful woman.
Lian averted his gaze and fiddled with the corner of his mouth.
"…If it's not proselytizing, then why are you telling me to learn Recovery Magic?"
"Merchant Lian. How much do you know about Divine Power?"
Divine power, huh… Can't say I know the details.
Lian glanced downward. His eyes landed on the wooden floor, freshly cleaned by Recovery Magic.
Not a speck of dust, let alone blood—the mess put back into perfect order.
The snow-white particles that had cascaded from Amone's hand flickered before his eyes.
"…It's the power the clerics of the Order of Order use, and I've heard it can return living things and objects to their 'original state.'"
"Is that not what you said just a moment ago? Good memory, too."
"Heh heh."
"Aside from what I explained earlier, however, it seems nothing else resides in that head of yours. So I shall begin from the basics."
Lian glared at her.
Ignoring the withering look, Amone extended her right hand.
Vmmm…
With a slight focus of concentration, she stirred the 'mana' within her body.
And the moment she channeled the gathered mana into her right hand—
Crack!
Violet lightning burst from her palm.
Crackle-crack—!
Electric current, bright enough to dazzle.
Lian leaned forward, his pain forgotten.
Whoa… So this is magic.
It was the first time he'd ever seen magic this close.
Like a child watching fireworks for the very first time, a genuinely awed sigh slipped out of him.
"Every living being possesses its own mana. Its characteristics, and the magic it can use, all differ from person to person."
The shape of mana differs for everyone.
Going by that explanation, Amone's mana must take the form of 'violet lightning.'
Bzzt…
As he mulled this over, a change came over Amone's lightning.
The savagely leaping sparks gradually subsided, and within them, a snow-white radiance began to blend in.
"And those who serve the Goddess of Order… in this way, a portion of their mana is replaced by 'Divine Power.'"
The sparks vanished. Snow-white 'particles' took their place in the palm of her hand.
Amone held out the modest mound of white gathered in her palm and offered it to Lian.
Mana transformed into pure white Divine Power.
Having watched the process unfold before his eyes, Lian sank into thought.
How should he put it… Divine Power seemed less like a power the Goddess personally bestowed, and more like the result of one's own mana being transmuted through faith.
Complicated. Too hard. I should stop thinking about it.
Honestly speaking, he didn't understand a word of it.
His head had begun to throb, and Lian shook it side to side.
He'd forget it all eventually anyway.
Couldn't he just ask Amone again whenever it became necessary?
"The more devout the cleric, the higher the proportion of mana replaced by Divine Power. The usual ratio is about five to five."
"And for you, Amone?"
"Me? Well… about one to nine."
"Ooh."
At Lian's admiring sound, Amone's shoulders rose a little.
"For the record, the mana is the nine."
"You're a cleric, right?"
He pressed those raised shoulders firmly back down.
Would it really be all right to entrust a customer's funeral to this woman?
"In any case, Divine Power exists, does it not?"
"Please don't say it like someone watering down their liquor."
The delinquent cleric Amone puffed out her chest with pride.
Lian sincerely wished the terrible customer in front of him would hurry up and leave his shop.
Regardless, he now had a rough idea what Divine Power was.
But what did that have to do with whether or not he'd learn Recovery Magic?
If anything, it seemed irrelevant to Lian, who didn't believe in any god.
"So what exactly are you trying to say? Your preamble is far too long."
"Then I shall state the conclusion."
But the moment Lian, his patience worn to the bone by the ache in every inch of his body, posed the question while maintaining his smiling face—
"The 'Dark Grey Particles' currently healing your body, Merchant Lian—they are Divine Power, no matter how I look at them."
So saying, Amone pointed at his torn-away left arm,
at the Dark Grey Particles pooling along its severed surface.
Behind Lian's back.
The Back Window, hidden behind its black curtain.
『……』
Through the narrow gap where the curtain hung slightly ajar,
blood-red eyes pressed flat against the glass were watching the two of them.
……
……
Lian didn't believe in God.
Not in the sense that he doubted such a being existed.
In the sense that he didn't trust it.
The same way people don't believe the words of a liar.
THIS is Divine Power?
Lian looked down at his wounds.
Like puddles forming in cracked earth, Dark Grey Particles had gathered where the spider monster had torn him apart.
Unlike Amone's Divine Power, which resembled fresh white snow,
it was black and cold, like old rainwater.
"……I don't think it is."
He didn't believe in God.
So why was Amone so certain it was Divine Power?
Vmmm—
Even as they spoke, the torn-away flesh crept steadily back into place.
Everything except the left arm was more or less healed, wasn't it? Lian ran a hand over his newly reattached abdomen.
"The ability to repair what has been broken is a grace reserved for goddesses alone."
"Goddesses?"
"Therefore, I judge that the power repairing your body, Merchant Lian, is likewise Divine Power granted by the Goddess of Order."
A strange unease washed over him.
But before Lian could voice the doubt, Amone leaned in close and touched the Dark Grey Particles with her fingertip.
Vmmm—
The particles climbed up her finger as if they were alive.
A chill like a corpse's radiated from them, and Amone hastily withdrew her hand.
Scatter-scatter—the particles that fell to the floor left stains behind.
Yet the stains vanished without a trace within moments.
Which meant this was no ordinary liquid.
Amone rubbed her fingertips together, then swept her face with her palm, as was her habit.
"Might I ask—since when has this healing ability existed?"
"That's…"
Lian hesitated to answer.
What rose in his mind was a forest where cold rain came pouring down,
where a small child lost everything.
Vmmm…
In that instant, even more Dark Grey Particles seeped from the severed surface of his left arm.
The flesh bubbled and surged upward, forming an elbow.
"……In any case, I recommend learning at least Recovery Magic."
Despite the sudden acceleration of his healing,
Amone remained expressionless as ever.
"Whether it's Divine Power or mana, the method of wielding it is the same. Even if that power of yours differs from Divine Power, you would be able to handle it far more effectively than you do now."
"……"
"Either way, you stand to lose nothing, do you not?"
"If you teach me Recovery Magic, Amone, what am I supposed to give you in return?"
A merchant's response, down to the marrow.
He clearly guarded himself against the goodwill of others.
Amone pressed a hand to her forehead, her face blank.
"…Then let us do this. In exchange for teaching you Recovery Magic, you will treat me free of charge if I am ever injured."
"Do clerics get injured?"
"Far more often than merchants. So I suggest you look in a mirror before you ask, Merchant Lian."
Lian had no confidence in winning a war of words against Amone.
In the end, he managed a reluctant nod and accepted his second transaction of the day.
What he was buying: instructions in the use of Recovery Magic.
What he was selling: one use of a merchant's services.
"The reason your particles are dark grey is likely because you haven't learned Recovery Magic, and impurities have thus mixed in."
"Is that so?"
"So if anyone ever questions your ability, Merchant Lian… I advise you to explain that your Recovery Magic is simply still unrefined."
It sounded as if she were handing him a ready-made excuse.
He doubted he'd ever need one, but it wasn't a bad deal, so he gave an awkward nod.
Come to think of it—if he really could learn Recovery Magic, what about selling it as a product?
It would work better than any cheap potion.
Well, you never know until you try.
And so a rather impromptu deal was struck.
He and Amone also settled when the Recovery Magic lessons would begin.
She said she'd come by the shop once the customer's funeral was finished?
With that said, Amone gathered the coffin and left the shop. Lian followed her outside to see her off.
It was time to part ways.
"I didn't expect to be escorted out as well. Thank you, Merchant Lian."
"I'm the one who profited. You have nothing to thank me for—"
"That has nothing to do with profit or loss."
Amone cut him off mid-sentence. She stopped walking and looked up at the sky.
The noonday sun hung at the very center of the blue sky.
A day without a single cloud.
Her emotionless violet eyes bore the flooding sunlight in silence.
"The 'Scavengers' who delve into Oubliettes are easily forgotten people."
"……"
"They die alone in the darkness, with no one to come looking for them."
The sunlight gleamed off the black coffin. Amone stroked its lid.
Her expressionless face never changed, but her hand was gentle.
"Thank you for finding him."
"……"
"Thank you for delivering his remains."
"……"
"Thank you for bringing back his precious keepsakes."
A worthless thing to do.
At least, that was what Lian had always believed.
"Merchant Lian."
"……"
"Through your efforts, the dead will not be forgotten."
The cleric spoke,
bowing her head in reverence.
"Your pain was not in vain."
The warm words pierced Lian's chest.
"……"
Amone, standing in the bright sunlight.
Lian, rooted to the shadow of the shop.
Throb…
As he watched her, Lian
winced as if against a glare.
Because people aren't supposed to shine.
"…Save the sentimental act. I'm not buying it."
The words he barely managed to squeeze out
were, truly, a worthless answer.
……
……
Amone left.
Lian stared blankly at her receding back.
Chime—♪
Alone once more, he returned to the counter
and sank into the hard-backed chair.
"Haaah…"
A sigh with no clear reason behind it.
He wrapped his hands around his still-healing left arm.
The half-attached flesh throbbed.
It hurt.
"What good does 'not in vain' do? He's dead."
The words he spat out stabbed at his chest.
It hurt.
"It's fine. I'm the one who survived."
He picked up the longsword propped beside him.
There was no warmth in it at all.
Snick…
The quiet shop. Looking up from his chair, the ceiling above was a mottled dark grey.
With two Luminous Lamps gone, it was darker than usual.
Lian exhaled a long breath, as though he actually found this dimness more comfortable.
So then… cleaning's done, the customer's gone, and…
Creeeak—
And so the merchant, still mentally arranging his plans for the day ahead,
turned wearily in his seat… and picked up the 'Guidebook' from the shelf.
"Let's see what's written in here."
A quiet, drowsy lunch hour.
A single beggar draped in an ochre robe passed by outside the window.