The Only One Who Remembers

Knock.

I can't even get a moment's rest.

He answered without lowering his hand, lips parting alone.

"Come in."

"Lord Starve."

"...Saerin?"

Starve straightened his posture and turned toward the voice. His gaze landed on a woman standing there with a thick bundle of documents in her arms.

"I have news that needed to be delivered personally."

"You're busy enough as it is. Why come yourself instead of sending someone else...? What is it?"

"One of the funding sources…."

"Raided again, I take it."

Not long ago it had been the slave trader.

It was hardly surprising. He accepted the documents with calm composure.

As he scanned the lines, absorbing the details with the speed-reading skills honed by endless paperwork, a hesitant voice continued, as if that weren't the end of it.

"Yes. The problem is… they say a transaction ledger was there."

"...Ha."

He had just reached that section.

Starve let out a cold laugh, the contents already fully grasped.

"The slave trader that was hit recently seems to have fallen under this man's jurisdiction as well…."

To think that after everything else, even the ledger had been taken. It was absurd. No matter how disposable the pawn, there was a limit to stupidity. To have kept an idiot who couldn't even cover his own tail beneath him all this time.

"It won't cause us direct harm, but we can't simply let this pass."

It wasn't their only funding source, and they hadn't left themselves without room to maneuver. Since their involvement was nothing more than a modest investment for a commission, they could simply play ignorant without issue. But if the homeland decided to find fault, it would become extremely troublesome.

"Have that fool brought before me."

"I'll deliver the message."

Liv, Raven's second disciple, received information as swiftly as her desperation demanded. Upon hearing that Deciever had taken the person suspected to be their master to the palace, she let out a disbelieving laugh.

"The quiet cat climbs the stove first, huh…."

She had found it strange how unusually silent he had been, but to think he had been preparing to steal their master from behind their backs.

She muttered the southern proverb she had heard from Hwan, then quickly moved. With their master's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠location now known, she could not remain idle.

I need someone who can extract Master quietly.

Who would be suitable?

The imperial palace prohibited unauthorized shamanic arts, rendering Hwan useless. Rowina, a fighter, would undoubtedly cause a loud disturbance and create problems. Besides, both of them were currently away from their posts anyway.

I sent them to the most plausible locations among the intelligence on those suspected to be Master, yet neither turned out to be correct. It's going to be quite noisy when they return.

In any case, the conclusion was obvious.

"So it has to be you."

Liv secretly summoned Altare.

The man, abruptly called under the pretext of it concerning 'Raven,' listened to the situation and tilted his head skeptically.

"You seem to trust me too much. Aren't you worried I'll kill him?"

"No matter what you might want, you'd prefer not to turn every other association president into an enemy."

It was one thing for them all to share equally poor relationships, but becoming the sole concentrated target would be problematic.

"Besides, Deciever won't stand by quietly. You know it as well as I do. That bastard can only be opposed if we all stand together."

And even then, they would be holding out through circumstance rather than raw power. For Deciever as well, having all of them die was an undesirable outcome.

"You wouldn't want to earn his grudge while already having us as enemies."

"...Well, true. Besides, the sooner you all finish your business, the sooner my turn comes."

From the beginning, even if left to others, he had intended to step forward. In a twisted sense, no one wanted to see their master's face more than he did.

Thus, Altare nodded without resistance.

"I'll bring Master back. Wait for me."

Raven sent all the attendants away, lightly rinsed his body, and stepped into the bathtub.

Normally, one should not take a half-bath with open wounds, but what did it matter? He wasn't going to die anyway.

Still, the sight of the bathtub gradually turning red with blood was unsettling. Cleaning it later would be a considerable hassle. He was wondering if he should get up now when the door opened and someone entered without permission.

"I knew it would be like this."

At the familiar face, Raven immediately furrowed his brow.

"Get out."

"I told you I'd be hurt if you treated me so coldly."

"Get out."

"I've come to treat your wounds, Master."

Deciever smiled brightly and shook the fairy herbs.

"Didn't I tell you? That I would never forget this grace."

"Thank you so much, Lord Raven. I will never forget this grace!"

"...You son of a bitch."

To throw back the exact words he had said as Didi. How utterly shameless. Whether he was deliberately provoking him or genuinely didn't know because he wasn't human, it didn't matter.

Either way, it was a remark that struck a nerve. Raven revealed his sharp anger without restraint and raised his voice.

"I don't need it, so get the hell ou—! Ugh!"

"You must have suffered internal injuries when you saved me. Yet aside from what the guardian spirit caused, I didn't see you coughing up blood."

Before the sentence could fully form, the herb for internal injuries was shoved into his mouth.

Apparently it was mixed with herbs that induced vomiting as well. True to their effectiveness, the fairy herbs triggered an immediate reaction.

"Cough, blegh—!"

"You must have swallowed the regurgitated blood. You knew you should expel it again but left it because it was too much trouble."

"You damn bast— Ugh!"

"With a body where time itself has stopped and you can't even digest properly, where does such confidence come from?"

Deciever casually tilted Raven's head over the edge of the tub.

Raven violently shook off the hand, leaning out to vomit blood. Deciever stared at the hand that had been thrown off for a moment, then reached toward Raven again.

He grasped the injured leg and unwound the bandages.

"As you know, Father's wounds can only be healed by herbs personally imbued with power directly from the leader of the fairy race."

"Hoo… Ptoo. I told you I'm not your father."

"Since they are the race most benevolent toward the world, the world in turn bestows kindness upon them."

And Death was the world's proxy.

It was only natural that the world's kindness would exert at least a slight influence on his contract with Death.

Of course, even that could not produce a perfect effect. The scars remained large, as if hastily and forcibly closed. Still, it was better than nothing. For Raven, fairy herbs were the only treatment available.

Deciever thickly smeared the herbs onto the deeply gouged wound where blood continued to flow.

"So when you prioritized ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bringing 'Didi' even though you needed the herbs for considerable injuries, I was quite pleased."

"......"

"Because you placed me before your own body."

Of course, the kindness had been directed at 'Didi' rather than 'Deciever,' but in the end they were the same person. Deciever saw no need to distinguish between the two.

"Therefore, this is both gratitude and repayment for you delaying your journey to the fairy territory on my behalf. Please accept it without burden."

"Nonsense."

Raven snatched the herb thrust before him with a fierce motion.

"Protecting the young is a natural duty of an adult, and you touched that part. That's all there is to it."

He examined the herb, then ground it by rubbing. He felt the small cut on his fingertip heal. Without pause he moved his hand to the scratches left by Dan's nails and applied it there.

There was a considerable amount—more than enough for all the minor wounds. Applying it one by one would be tedious. Even if the effect was slightly reduced, perhaps he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠should simply dissolve it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all in the water for a full medicinal bath.

Entertaining such idle thoughts, he muttered as if to himself.

"You really managed to obtain the fairy herbs. The Fairy King wouldn't have handed them over easily."

"They're merely mortals who live a little longer than most."

Having finished treating the leg, Deciever shifted his attention to the knife wound on Raven's neck left by the bandit leader. A low, scornful laugh followed.

"In the end, aren't they powerless before a god?"

"God?"

This time a scoff slipped from Raven.

"Don't make me laugh."

"......"

"An existence infinitely beneath comparison to a god."

The hand applying the herbs stopped.

Deciever did not bother answering. Instead…

"Ugh!"

He dug his fingers into the wound.

Raven's body reflexively stiffened at the sharp pain. Only then, as if his insides felt somewhat relieved, Deciever smiled faintly and continued applying the ground herbs as though nothing had happened.

"Father. Master. You keep forgetting…"

"......"

"The only one who can fully remember you is me."

"......"

Raven silently emptied every herb he had received into the bathtub. Green leaves floated atop the red liquid that had already become bloody water.

"In ten years, I haven't forgotten you even once. I kept searching for you. Unlike those who have forgotten which of the things they learned came from you, I remember everything you taught me."

He seemed to have told him countless times not to call him father.

Now he didn't even want to deal with it. Death had told him to return to the starting point and meet his youngest disciple, but what could possibly be gained from this one?

Remembering the traces found when examining the corpse in the forest, the one who boasted of using techniques learned from his father, Raven closed his eyes completely.

"Of course there are others searching for you. But they rely on old records to pursue their own goals. None of them truly remember you or long for you. Moreover, their lifespans are short. Eventually they will leave you."

"...So?"

His eyelids slowly rose.

Eyes that shone with clear demonic energy, utterly unlike those of ordinary humans, fixed directly on Deciever.

"Are you telling me to rely on you now?"

"......Both you and I are living long, tedious lives that could be called eternal. If beings who won't easily depart from the world wish to remember each other, that might not be so bad… But I know you won't do that."

"You know me well."

Rather than rely on you, I'd choose death. Eternal life? Just hearing the words is horrifying.

It seemed the wound on his neck had been treated as well. The hand withdrew. Raven leaned back against the tub, arms draped over the sides, and tilted his head upward.

He had expected him to immediately begin spouting his purpose, but unexpectedly Deciever remained silent for a time. At the tail end of that silence, a quiet apology fell.

"I'm sorry."

Raven turned his head at the unexpected words.

"I didn't intend for you to overhear."

"......"

"I never expected that bastard Death would speak to me, or that you would be there as well… I truly didn't know."

There had been a day when Death, having come looking for Raven, did not leave immediately.

Just when it seemed he had finished his business and vanished, he appeared once more before Deciever.

Raven, walking the corridor to clear his troubled mind after the encounter with Death, had witnessed the scene through a slightly open door.

The conversation that followed had made it clear that Deciever was the enemy he had been seeking.

His blood had run cold. His fingertips had turned white and frozen.

Not even aware of what expression he wore, Raven had thrown the door open.

"What did you just say?"

"...Father…!"

"What did you say?"

"No wonder you were radiating such strong energy today…! Death, you…!!"

"I'm the one asking!!!"

Deciever, who had been baring his teeth at Death, turned with a startled face toward his father, who had raised his voice for the first time.

There stood a man trembling violently with rage and betrayal, as though he might lose his reason at any moment. Even in his clear fury, he looked so fragile that a single touch might shatter him.