The Stage of Getting Closer -7-
Any task is difficult at the beginning. Changing the young lady's diaper while wearing an eyepatch, or getting into a brawl alongside her. The first time is always the hardest. Once you push through that initial hurdle, the burden lifts and the work becomes surprisingly manageable.
—Eeeek! Ricardo! Stomp him!
—I already did.
—Oh…! Well done!
"..."
Rain fell over the streets. Holding a black umbrella, I walked through the abandoned village. A swing creaked in the wind. Flowerbeds overgrown with weeds that looked as though no hand had touched them in years. The place felt deserted—like a hidden refuge. It was strange that a village even existed here, on the opposite side of the road leading to the capital. This region was frequently raided by monsters, after all.
The dense magical residue suggested someone had used mental magic. A wide-area spell meant to lure people in. I followed a single set of small footprints leading from the village entrance. The rain had faded the traces, but they were still clear enough to track.
"...This feels ominous."
Only one set of footprints in such a large village...
"Not easy..."
By the time I reached the middle of the village, more footprints appeared.
"A couple, maybe."
The couple's tracks vanished soon after, washed away in the mud. It looked deliberate, as if someone had tried to erase them. I gave a wry smile and continued following the remaining prints. For some reason, they felt familiar.
The trail ended at a moss-covered inn. It, too, had clearly been abandoned for a long time.
"..."
Weeds sprouted between the gravel on the floor. The windows were all faded, giving the place the look of a haunted house. Yet the footprints stopped right here. I let out a dry laugh and pushed open the inn door.
And then—
"...!"
I came face to face with a stranger.
The man in front of me immediately drew a dagger from his waist the moment he saw me. Judging by his brown leather cap and rough appearance, he looked like a coachman.
—Thud...
Why did he look so startled? I shook the water from my umbrella, the heels of my shoes clicking against the floor, and shrugged. I could already guess what had happened. The gold nugget that had fallen from his hand. The familiar sword that had once been gifted to a certain woman. And the all-too-recognizable woman's wallet.
"...Hmm."
I was starting to feel a little angry. I'd sensed strange magic from the mansion and come here, only to find someone scheming something amusing.
—Grrrrrr...
Just a little. I was getting angry.
I took a step toward the coachman and greeted him.
"Hello."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Ricardo."
The man with the dagger flinched under my sharp gaze, then snatched the gold nugget from the floor and snapped, "Get out."
"..."
"This is my house, so get lost."
"...Hmm."
I looked at the man's trembling hands. The way he clutched the gold so tightly, like a child holding something precious, made my mood even worse. Money was nice, sure. But—
"Excuse me, sir..."
Why did I feel so disgusted?
"Let me ask you one thing."
I took another step forward, my voice low and heavy.
"A woman with silver hair down to her shoulders. Have you seen her?"
"..."
—Twitch.
At the slight movement of his shoulders, I closed my eyes tightly.
"Haa..."
There it was. The favorability window hovering above his head confirmed he knew exactly who I was looking for.
The man, looking like a thief caught red-handed, stammered with trembling eyes, "I didn't do anything wrong."
"..."
"Someone just told me to..."
The dagger-wielding man poured out excuses in a shaky voice. If he was going to make excuses, he could at least put the dagger away. I nodded along to his rambling, even as he kept the rather long blade pointed at me.
"I see."
"Right...! So I don't know anything!"
"Relax."
"...Just a moment."
"Take a deep breath and try again, slowly."
—Creak.
The man glanced at the closed door and suddenly burst into a grin.
"Wait... are you alone?"
Now that it was just the two of us in the wide inn, the man stretched leisurely, his expression turning arrogant. The timid demeanor from moments ago had vanished.
"You should've said you were alone. I thought you were an imperial soldier and got nervous."
He straightened his previously hunched back and spoke in a bold voice.
"Hey."
"..."
"Hey, you little shit. When an adult calls you, you answer."
"...Ah, you were calling me."
"Yeah, you."
The man waved his dagger and pointed it at my chest.
"Hey. I'm in a good mood today. I don't know why you're here, but just keep walking."
"Why are you in such a good mood?"
"Because I made a ton of money..."
"That's why you're happy?"
"Ha... You're a funny bastard. Yeah, that's right. I sold that bitch and made money, so I'm happy. What? You gonna stab me?"
I looked at the pink wallet sticking out of the man's bag and asked again.
"I see."
"While I'm still being nice, just leave. I don't want blood on my hands."
"Then..."
—Grrrrrr...
"Even if you're blind, you'll still feel good, I suppose."
The man's eyes began to tremble at the shaking of the floor. Dishes rattled and fell, clattering loudly like alarm bells.
"What the... What is this?!"
The man shook his head violently, drew a deep breath, and muttered, "Ah, shit, I said I'd let you go nicely, so just—!" before kicking off the floor and charging at me.
"Die...!"
I wasn't in a good mood.
"..."
Not good enough to remember restraint.
—Slash.
I really wasn't in a good mood.
*
Mikhail, who had lost consciousness, opened her eyes in a dark room. A small candle. A damp space. Everything around her was pitch black.
"Kugh..."
A splitting headache pounded through Mikhail's head. Blood trickled from her forehead down her cheek and onto the floor.
"...Damn it!"
Mikhail gritted her teeth, recalling the fight from earlier.
—Kill them.
—...Get rid of those people.
—Why? I can kill them, but you can't?
—...!
—It's fine to kill them. They're just empty-headed puppets anyway. There might be decent people among them... but what can you do? They won't remember anyway.
—You bastard...!
The battle had ended without her being able to fight properly, and Mikhail couldn't easily suppress her frustration. If only she'd gone all out, she might have avoided the worst outcome.
"Cowardly bastard..."
As Mikhail's quiet mutter echoed through the dark space, a voice answered from the corner of the room—the Archbishop's voice.
"What's cowardly about winning? Kid."
A large, tall figure approached, relying on the small candle. Yung placed a tray on the table and sat across from Mikhail. Dry bread and milk. A pitiful meal.
Yung picked up the bread and said to Mikhail, "Eat if you want. You must be hungry after getting so worked up."
Yung chuckled as he looked at Mikhail's bound hands.
"Ah, should I feed you?"
"Shut up. I'm not eating."
Yung shrugged at the bloodshot glare in Mikhail's eyes.
"Feeling wronged?"
"..."
"Upset that you got caught without a proper fight?"
"...If it weren't for those people, you'd be dead already."
"Oh my, how scary."
Yung laughed heartily and dipped the bread in milk.
"You should've killed me. Boring..."
"You bastard...!"
Yung sneered at Mikhail.
"Kid, there won't be any interference this time."
"...Interference?"
"Yeah... His name was Ricardo, wasn't it?"
—Rattle!
The moment the name "Ricardo" left Yung's mouth, Mikhail thrashed in her chair, eyes blazing.
"Don't say that filthy name with your mouth."
"Ah. So that's your reverse scale... If I'd known it'd be this fun, I should've come to you from the start."
"Shut up...!"
Yung dragged his chair closer to Mikhail.
"Don't you want to see him...?"
Like a devil's whisper, Yung's words made Mikhail's eyes tremble as she stared at his single remaining eye.
"I want to see him too."
"..."
"My hand. My eye. That bastard took everything from me. I didn't get to take anything in return."
"...You're insane."
"I need to take something from that bastard before I feel satisfied."
Yung grabbed Mikhail's cheek roughly and burst into laughter.
"But kid."
"..."
"Aren't you curious too?"
"About what...?"
Yung smiled cruelly as he looked into Mikhail's trembling eyes.
"Whether that bastard still remembers you."
"Huh...?"
"I never told you, did I?"
"..."
"You know, kid."
Yung popped the milk-soaked bread into his mouth and whispered the truth into Mikhail's ear.
"I never cast any magic on him."
"What... did you just say?"
"I didn't cast the forgetting spell. On your friend."
Cracks began to form across Mikhail's face.
"Huh...?"
*
—Click.
"So this is the place."
Covered in blood, I descended into the dark basement and looked around. To think someone would build a basement like this in the mountains. I gave a small nod at the Archbishop of Oblivion's unexpected dedication.
"He must really have nothing better to do."
It had been harder to find because this event wasn't in the novel. If it had appeared even once, I could've located it without interrogation.
—Click.
I'd taken too long.
"I hope I'm not late."
Considering the Archbishop of Oblivion's personality, he wasn't the type to kill Mikhail. He was a perverted voyeur who enjoyed watching people wander in confusion after losing their memories—or playing with them. He wouldn't give up on an interesting performance.
I slowly descended deeper into the basement.
And then—
'...'
I witnessed Yung's masterpiece.
"Misa?"