Chapter 18

Evening.

Joanna went to Hieronymus and proposed that I be given a room with a window. He spent the rest of the late night with her, searching for one that would do.

And I found one amusing thing.

Joanna's night vision is remarkably keen.

I noticed it while we were looking over the room he had led us to. Hieronymus groped his way along as if the dark had struck him blind.

In a room the moonlight had made perfectly bright.

No—strictly speaking, the moonlight had done nothing of the sort. The moon in the window was only half full. It was not that bright a night. Joanna seemed to have known as much already; the moment she saw him fumbling, she found a small lantern and lit it.

I had thought I knew everything. Then a gap appeared.

Set beside Joanna's memories, the world has certainly grown much brighter. I simply had not imagined the difference would be this great. What I see, and what a person actually feels, may not be the same thing.

I ought to be careful about that.

I can be certain I know all of it, and later find that they were thinking something else entirely. I am looking through another person's eyes. I must not mistake that for knowing them whole. The moment I forget will be the moment I have lost every last scrap of interest in anyone else.

So we looked through five rooms, and chose one. Joanna set it in order alone.

Hieronymus offered to give her people to help. Joanna refused.

All through the night she cleared the place by herself, and whatever was needed, she carried in with her own hands. There is a supply warehouse. From it she brought an enormous wardrobe, and a bed, alone.

Hasn't she grown stronger than when I first saw her?

By the time the room was entirely arranged, dawn was breaking far off. Sunlight fell across the room Joanna had cleaned, and in the person-sized mirror hung on one wall, I could see her.

Past the light, within Joanna's memory, there is a girl from a very long time ago. Her hair has gone purple, her skin blue; those pale chestnut irises have turned yellow, and the whites beside them black, so that she has drifted a little away from a human shape.

Is she thinking of that time?

Joanna gazed at the mirror for a while with no particular reaction, then began to move again.

She prepares my breakfast, and eats her own ahead of time while she works. She eats a great deal. Four times what I do, I would guess.

I eat far too little, yes, but the moment my stomach is precisely full, it irritates me. So I don't force myself. Wondering whether I might truly be eating too little, I looked over the body of Rebecca Rolf, asleep even now.

She isn't gaunt.

Six days of eating less will not waste a person down to the bone. If anything, she has put on flesh. Until she was to be made a Sacrifice, she had gone without food for some while, wound round and round in chains.

It was only about two days, so she had been merely a little thin—but thin, all the same. Then some strange instrument tore out her heart, and she died.

The next time those eyes opened, I was there.

I regenerated it. But when I first came in, the noises a human body makes grated so sharply on my nerves that I replaced the heart, the loudest of them all.

Even now, Rebecca Rolf's heart does not beat. In its place, a sphere joined to the vessels turns, driving the blood out at a steady measure.

It is strange that nothing goes wrong. Then again, the body may already be in tatters, moving only because I am here to force it. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I cannot say that possibility does not exist.

I will think about it later.

Even if it breaks, I have no means of repair.

So. Pass.

How much do I change a human body, once I enter it?

There is more I need to know.

Shall I set it in order?

These I will have to confirm little by little, as I increase their number. As in those stories of people with abilities, each one may come away with a different power.

This is bound up with my warmth.

After that come the aims concerning the Church of Future Hope.

Grasp what lies between Hieronymus and Andrew.

Is this a struggle between the present leader and a second-in-command trying to surpass him? I do not know what past the two of them carry to have come this far, so it is difficult to say.

I am content whichever way it rolls. It would be pleasant if Hieronymus held sole sway, led the Church of Future Hope, and cast Harvesters toward other nations.

But I would be just as content if he split from Andrew and the Church fell to fighting itself. Considering how powerful my Harvesters are, whoever obtains me will only tell me to stamp them out by the batch.

Hehe.

No matter how much of myself I press in while making a Harvester, I never feel anything grow less. Which is to say, I still have no sense that there is a limit on their number. So I shall make as many as I can.

A third possibility will appear as well, of course.

I am looking forward to it.

And the hour of rising, on the sixth day, drew near.

I greet Joanna to match her coming in.

"Good morning, Joanna."

"Yes. Good morning, Lady Rebecca."

I rise, wash, eat, and change my clothes. I could call up that dark violet mist, as I did before, and make the clothes from it, but I have set that aside.

Use it too often, and I suspect Hieronymus will grow sharp about it.

Once that is settled, Joanna tells me she is changing rooms. She asks whether she ought to inquire if we may move now, and I tell her to go ahead and do so.

She bows to me, and then she is out the door.

I do not know where Hieronymus is. Will she manage to find him?

Joanna's steps do not hesitate.

How does she know? If I turn her memories over finely enough, could I learn where he is?

I am combing once more through the memories I took from her then, when the door opens.

For an instant I think we have missed each other.

But the one who comes in is a small girl.

No. Hieronymus is tall, of course, and Joanna too is quite tall for a woman, so it is easy to misjudge—but she is not so very small as that.

A little shorter than I am?

I know the name.

Hyungkesuni.

Silver hair, a small frame, a body all of one solid piece, and a face into which misfortune has been pressed and packed.

"Hello, Hyungkesuni."

"Ah. Right. Hello, Rebecca Rolf."

She said it while gripping her staff tight. I can see her trembling, faintly. She is terribly afraid of me.

Has anything happened that would give her cause to fear me? Nothing has. Then has Hieronymus done something cruel to her?

I do not know the particulars, so it is possible.

And yet, for someone being abused, she was far too proud the first time we met.

I rose from my place.

At that, strength gathered in Hyungkesuni's hand, and from inside her an unpleasant current spilled out. It is not like mine. If what I do is to pour down from above, she seems to draw hers from a pocket she keeps within.

Stories are full of such things—mana hearts, dantians, vessels that hold power. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Did it come from a place like that? Or perhaps from whatever one calls the soul.

And yet it does not seem to issue from the light. Just now, I am guessing that the soul and the light may be one and the same.

In any case, I can tell she is badly tense. So instead of drawing near, I went far off.

"What are you doing. Right now?"

Her voice shook on right now. I kept as close to the wall as I could, and turned to look at her.

"Hyungkesuni is afraid of me."

A flinch.

A chill must have run through her. Hyungkesuni shuddered from head to toe.

Ah. A mistake. Even so, perhaps I should have saved, for later, the knowledge that I can read feelings. A monster who can take the measure of a person is twice as frightening as a monster who cannot.

Because it means she can answer them.

I would like to soothe her properly, but I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have already cast myself as a tame little beast, and it is difficult to say anything too intelligent.

So I make it short.

"So I moved away."

Hyungkesuni lets out a thin, breathy giggle.

"No, you don't have to do that. From now on I'll be looking after you too. I have to make an effort. Yeah."

She is sick with fear, deceiving herself with a wretched laugh. What is it that whips her so?

There is an intention here.

Then I will use it.

I decide to draw closer, like a fool.

"If you're laughing, that means it's all right."

Of course I know what Hyungkesuni fears. But I judge by the surface alone. I play at being clumsy with other people's feelings, and I approach.

The nearer I come, the more she steels herself, and the sight of it is cute.

The light has dimmed a little, but a fairly large light still rests in her chest. The warmth, even so, stays close to the floor.

If I can manage it, I have a feeling I could draw out still more warmth. The chance has come, so I may as well experiment while I am at it.

I stopped directly in front of Hyungkesuni. Close enough to feel her breath.

Around the face there is what they call a private area—a personal space. I tore through it on purpose, and stepped inside.

Yes. Then Hyungkesuni falters. Confusion and tension swell the trembling.

"Hey. What do you think you're doing?"

Now then. What answer am I meant to give here? I am a monster ignorant of human beings. Which means I am allowed to be rude.

I reached out and laid a hand against Hyungkesuni's cheek. It amuses me, that murky current waiting beneath the snow-white skin. Am I so frightening as that?

"Isn't this what one does with a child?"

"Well now. Who taught you that?"

"Rebecca Rolf did."

Yes. I have already passed along, once, the fact that I hold memories, so I will go on as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠though I know only Rebecca Rolf.

As though I am growing used to human beings, little by little.

"Aha. Right. Of course. This is her body. Memories would still be in the brain, I suppose. But I'm not a child."

"You're short, and by proportion your head is large."

"There are circumstances. I've simply stayed this shape. Put in a way you'll understand, think of the body as fixed in a child's state."

I see. An adult in the shape of a child. Yes. I had suspected as much from the moment she was called a witch.

"Then this isn't necessary?"

Hm. The cheek is softer than I expected. Is she truly fixed in childhood? A faint vibration comes through it, so I ought not to torment her too far—but I will enjoy this a little longer.

"Take your hand off. I don't need that."

She might simply have told me not to. Instead she limits the refusal to herself. What is she intending? I lower my hand while I turn the puzzle over.

At that, Hyungkesuni took three steps back. She set a hand to her own cheek for a moment, and soon let it fall.

Then, with a motion far too large, she offered her greeting.

"From now on, together with the woman at your side, I'll be looking after you. I'm Hyungkesuni. Be good to me, Rebecca."

"Yes. Hyungkesuni."

I nodded. Puzzle pieces spilled out in a heap. Now I will take my time, and slowly undo whatever she is thinking.

I am glad to have more to enjoy.

Sensing Joanna on her way back with Hieronymus, I looked at the small silver-haired girl, and smiled.