…Warehouse?
"…Warehouse?"
Places with this many medicinal herbs usually had a separate storage room for drugs. Salat glanced at Loki with a curious expression. He was rubbing his forehead, lost in thought.
…He looks busy.
What to do? Should she open it? Salat's dilemma didn't last long. A fragrant herbal scent wafted up from the basement.
He said I could look around, right?
Her curiosity winning out, she hesitated a moment before pushing the door open. Surprisingly well-maintained, it swung easily, revealing a pitch-black space beyond. Salat recoiled instinctively. Even with her dark elf vision, she couldn't see inside. Yet the strangely nostalgic herbal aroma teased her nose. Sweet and fragrant, it evoked memories of the palace perfumes from her old life.
…The apothecary where I studied smelled just like this.
"What are you doing?"
At Loki's voice, Salat pointed at the doorframe with her finger.
"Huh? Uh…, there's a basement. Looks like a herb storage room."
Loki blinked. Come to think of it, Alex had mentioned a herb storage warehouse.
"Can I take a look?"
Loki eyed Salat thoughtfully.
Is she bored from just standing around?
He'd already gotten Alex's permission to explore. Should be fine.
"Don't go far. Be careful."
Salat nodded. As Loki turned back to his book, she cautiously widened the basement door and slipped inside.
Bracing against the side wall, Salat followed the herbal scent. Nostalgic as it was, the pitch darkness and heavy atmosphere filled her with dread. Nothing was visible. No light at all—it was terrifying.
Feels like closing my eyes would be better…
She descended the long, steep stairs carefully, relying on her hearing and smell. Soon, a faint trickle of water reached her ears. Her vision sharpened just enough to make out nearby objects: a dug well in the earth and a pump to draw the water. The walls were carved from bedrock, and hanging there were precious herbs that made Salat gasp in admiration.
Amazing! These are so rare, even hard to find… How did a mere human gather so many? Ah, back in the kingdom, I'd study late into the night in rooms full of herbs just like this…
Inhaling the scent, the gloom that had weighed on her heart began to fade. To her, that sweet-bitter herbal smell was a balm for the soul.
Then, faintly mingled in, came a rotten stench.
"…What? Rotten herbs?"
She sniffed. Hard to distinguish amid the herbs, but it felt familiar.
Where's it coming from?
Tracking the odor, she reached a massive iron door.
Herbs here too. But…
The stench of decaying life hung heavy as well.
"What the hell? How could you waste these precious herbs like this!"
Somehow, it felt like her memories were being defiled, igniting her anger. She reached out and gripped the circular handle. Turning it, the door creaked open inch by inch.
In that instant, she clamped her nose shut. The overpowering rot made her stomach churn. But worse than the smell was what lay inside the door—those things.
She stumbled back, trembling violently. Her face drained pale, eyes welling with tears. She bolted up the stairs.
"……?"
Loki, reading his book, felt a tug on his cloak and turned. It was Salat. She struggled for a blank expression, but her eyes brimmed with imminent tears, her grip on his cloak white-knuckled.
"What happened?"
"Basement."
"……?"
"In there."
Salat's voice quivered.
"Children…."
Loki turned. The small basement entrance came into view.
"Priest! Priest! Play with us!"
The children's clear voices rang out. Joyful and lively, they tickled his ears, lifting Alex's spirits.
"Aaaah…?! Bell peppers again? Can't you make something else for once?"
The children's complaints. Whining, angry, annoyed voices made Alex feel a pang of disappointment.
And…
"Priest… sa… ve… us…!"
Desperate pleas. Begging, despairing cries for salvation. Children reaching out with tear-streaked faces.
Alex could only watch, helpless. He couldn't touch them, couldn't intervene—just left them to their fate.
Aaah…
Alex sobbed as he gazed at the children. He wanted to help. To reach out. To grasp those hands pleading for rescue.
"Pri… est!"
His peace shattered. The children devoured by the monster, one by one. Clutching his hair, Alex's eyes hollowed, dark circles deepening.
"……."
Now, even the voices were gone. No more joyful chatter, no whining, no sobbing pleas—only emptiness.
That void was overwhelming. He yearned to fill it. To return to the past. To relive those happy times with the children, sharing love amid their joys and tantrums.
So…! To reverse what the monster had taken, he pushed the experiment forward.
But the children were no longer children. They became new abominations—pure souls twisted into repulsive, death-spreading corpses.
"……."
Alex opened his eyes, staring blankly ahead. Rubbing his parched eyes with the back of his hand brought pain and a sense of alienation. Tears long dried, he lacked even the strength to weep. Instead, an involuntary laugh shook his shoulders.
I've reached my limit. No way I can cure this plague alone.
He needed help. From the Holy Church. No one on the continent had studied this plague longer, or even produced a cure.
They must know something…
Alex rose from bed. Gaunt but muscled from discipline, he donned his robe from the hanger. Sitting at the table, he prepared a quilled pen and paper, dipping it in ink to write.
His Holiness the Pope alone can offer salvation. The Holy Emperor must not see this letter.
He folded the letter into an envelope, dripped wax, and pressed his seal bearing his name.
Tomorrow morning, ask Yuan to mail it.
Extinguishing the candle, he headed back to bed but paused. He'd forgotten to lock the entrance to his underground lab recently.
No way… Nah, it'll be fine. Even if they find the entrance, no lantern means they can't go deep…
But the unease lingered. Better check. His mouth felt idle anyway—chatting over bell pepper stew might be fun.
"Hoo… I wonder what those travelers are up to now?"
Lantern in hand, Alex headed to the lab in the graveyard. Opening the door, he smiled.
"How do you like it? Anything of interes—?"
But the empty room and exposed entrance beneath the carpet froze him solid.
My God…?!
Had the travelers gone inside…?!
"Damn it!"
A curse unfit for a holy man escaped him. He moved to grab a beak mask from the monastery but hesitated. What if they were heading there right now?
…No!
No time for doubt. Even now, they could be descending deeper to that place.
"I have holy water. And it doesn't spread through air."
Alex took a deep breath and hurried down. For an old man, his steps were swift and powerful. Lantern light steadying his shaking heart, he wiped sweat. Amid the thick herbs, rot assaulted his nose.
The door to that place was open.
One wrong move, and victims!
Descending fully, he rushed ahead—no time for well disinfection or masking the stench. Straight to the underground prison.
And there he saw.
"What in the world are you doing?!"
The traveler girl cowered behind the raven-masked man, clutching his pant leg, trembling. But the masked man had drawn a black sword from somewhere, pointing it at the 'boy' and 'girl' wights in the prison cell—hostile toward him.
In that moment, Alex lost reason.
"I asked what you're doing!"
His shout echoed in the cave. Only then did Loki react, turning with a frown.
"…You've done vile work. Breeding monsters like these."
"Not breeding! Trying to cure them!"
"Cure?"
Loki peered into the cell. Rock walls sealed it tight—no light penetrated. Wight 'children'—boys and girls—strained against chains on necks, arms, legs toward living prey. Eyes gone, voids filled with wriggling Worm Pest maggots. Skin blackened, desiccated. Taut chains snapped limbs; torn flesh oozed rot and parasites.
No longer human.
Utterly broken monsters.
"Shut the door! The children will get hurt!"
"…Children? You see children in these?"
"Out of my way!"
Alex lunged for the iron door. Loki grabbed his hand.
"Do what you want here. But no thought for the souls ruined by that filthy parasite plant?"
"That's why I'm curing them!"
"You think that… can be cured?"
Loki's voice dripped incredulity. The 'children' were long dead—Worm Pest masses, not lives. Even his purification and healing potions would be wasted.
"Let go."
"What are these children?"
"I said let go."
Alex's glare sharpened with killing intent. Loki rubbed his temple—head throbbing. Much improved or not, he was half-god here. Human malice triggered his own instinctively.
"……?!"
Alex froze, body quaking. Salat too recoiled in shock.
Loki exhaled deeply, releasing Alex's hand. Massaging his temples, he tamped down his temper.
…So this is his obsession.
No ordinary monk would obsess over Worm Pest like this, displaying horrors behind glass for experiments. These 'children' were likely the cause.
Family…?
Family. But infected beyond saving. He'd striven to reverse it—futile, catastrophic results.
"Do you truly believe… they can be cured?"
Calmly polite now, Alex finally spoke, nodding repeatedly.
"…Of course! I can! I can do it! I can cure them! It's possible! Possible! Pos—!"
Chanting like self-delusion against impossibility. Loki cut him off.
"Impossible."