The Sage, Sage Lill (Part 2)
To think a sage would call himself a fool.
Well, perhaps he wasn't entirely wrong.
Memories of the day I first met Sage Lill drifted unbidden to the surface of my mind.
“Save me, assassin. If you truly place greater value on saving a life than taking one, that is.”
I remembered the venom burning in his gaze, his stubborn, clamped jaw, and the slight, ceaseless tremor racking his massive frame. He had been a man far more enraged by the thought that his life’s work might never see the light of day than by the prospect of his own imminent demise—a man who feared being forgotten far more than he feared death itself. And yet, he had chosen obscurity over the grave, resigning himself to temporary oblivion while he waited for that day—the moment he could finally unveil his achievements to the world.
“So maybe I relied on that damned girl without even realizing it,” the old man muttered, staring into the distance. “After all, she was the only person from the outside world who still remembered I existed.”
Yet that day had never arrived. And I, the very person who had hidden him away, had met an untimely end. Had I not returned to life in the body of Rachel, he might truly have been forgotten here forever.
“Well, she won’t be the only one anymore,” I replied softly. “Both the Third Prince and I know of your existence now.”
At my rather clumsy attempt at comfort, Sage let out an incredulous snort.
“Ha! You think that counts?”
“And once you come to the Ventrum Imperial Palace, the number of people who remember you will only grow.”
“Now, hold on just a minute. Don’t try to smooth-talk your way past me. Going to the palace is an entirely different matter.” Sage wagged a thick, calloused finger in front of my face, making it clear he wouldn't be swayed so easily. “If that little prince fails my test, there’s not a chance in hell I’m setting foot in the imperial palace. Got that?”
“…A test, you say?”
“Aye. Like I told you, he might end up being the last disciple I ever take in my lifetime. I’m not about to take in just anyone.”
The Great Sage bared his teeth in a wicked, knowing grin.
“Hey, you.”
Leo, who had begrudgingly volunteered to act as a guide, abruptly broke the silence with a sharp question.
“You’re no priest, are you?”
The sudden question struck right at the heart of the matter, making Edwin jump in fright.
“H-How did you know?”
“Old Man Sage despises clerics and priests. If you were a real man of the cloth, there’s no way he would’ve let you past the threshold. And that fake wound makeup…” Leo gestured disdainfully toward Edwin’s plaster-coated hand. “It looks plausible enough at a glance, but look closer and it’s obvious it’s fake.”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah. So who the hell are you? What are you doing here? Looking at those fancy silk clothes of yours, are you some high-and-mighty noble or something?”
The boy’s sharp deduction left Edwin entirely at a loss for words. He could hardly blurt out that he was an imperial prince of the Ventrum Empire, nor could he conjure a convincing excuse on the fly. As he hesitated, panic gnawed at him; he worried Leo would lose his temper and berate him for being so frustratingly slow.
“Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Taking in Edwin’s obvious fluster, Leo merely clicked his tongue and looked away.
“Just wipe off that shoddy disguise right now. It’s only going to get in the way when we’re working.”
“A-All right.”
“And if it’s hard for you to say why you came here, you don’t have to tell me. It’s not like I’m burning with curiosity anyway.” Leo shifted the heavy axe slung across his back, tapping the handle. “Let’s just hurry up and take a look around so we can get back. I’ve still got firewood to chop.”
Having said his piece, Leo marched ahead without waiting for a reply. It was a blunt, borderline dismissive attitude. Yet paradoxically, Edwin felt a strange wash of relief. Even though they had met only moments ago, this prickly youth felt infinitely easier to be around than the courtiers and nobles at the palace.
After standing frozen for a heartbeat, Edwin hurriedly scrambled after him.
Everyone spoke of this place with such horror. I thought it would be a living hell.
Edwin trotted along the stone path winding through Luxen Village, trailing close behind Leo. As he observed his surroundings, he came to an unexpected realization: just because people were afflicted with the terrible Scale Disease did not mean they spent their days merely waiting for death to claim them.
“Is that you, Leo? We don’t need any help today, so go on home! Give our regards to Old Man Sage!”
“Oh, Leo, dear! Is the old man doing well on his own? Here, I baked some fresh bread this morning—take some to him, won't you?”
“It’s Leo! Hey, big bro! Come play swords with us! Swords!”
Even while locked in a ceaseless struggle against the incurable disease, the villagers of Luxen lived out each day with far more vigor and determination than anyone on the outside might have imagined. There were men bound in linen bandages diligently tilling the stony fields, women chattering by the communal washhouse as they scrubbed clothes, and children running about brandishing sticks in mock battle.
In fact, as absurd as it seemed, they appeared far happier than Edwin ever felt within the cold, gilded walls of the imperial palace.
Edwin gazed at them for a long time before slowly lifting his head. The sky hanging over the quarantine settlement was blue, vast, and breathtakingly clear—no different from the sky he looked up at from the palace grounds.
A deep, solemn shadow settled over the young prince’s eyes.
“Urgh…!”
Edwin dry-heaved, overwhelmed by a rancid stench that clawed at his throat.
I take back what I thought about this place being no different.
Clamping a trembling hand over his nose and mouth, the young prince looked across the dim room at Leo. Unlike Edwin, who shuddered at the mere smell of human waste and decaying flesh, Leo was calmly wiping away the dark, oozing fluid weeping from the skin of a severe Scale Disease patient.
“Our job today is keeping the severe patients clean,” Leo had explained earlier.
It was not merely sweeping floors; for bedridden villagers who could barely move, it meant bathing their festering sores and changing their soiled garments. For Edwin, who had lived his entire life having servants wait on him hand and foot and had never once cared for another, it was an ordeal beyond comprehension. The fragile bodies of the afflicted—skin hardening like cracked stone, peeling away to leak foul, blackened discharge at the slightest touch—were far more than the sheltered prince could bear.
Seeing Edwin gag each time he glimpsed the bloody pus and blackened crusts, Leo had let out a weary sigh.
“Just go scrub the floor. You look like you might actually be good for that much.”
And so, relegated to cleaning duty, Edwin clumsily scrubbed the stone floorboards with a stiff bristle brush. Imitating the movements he had seen the palace maids perform, he managed to look passably competent.
Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, Edwin worked the brush while stealing frequent glances at Leo, who attended to the sick without a single complaint.
Isn’t he terrified?
Did he feel no dread that he might catch the deadly contagion? Did the sight of rotting flesh, blood, and filth not disgust him? How could he tend to these suffering souls with such practiced, unbothered composure?
A newfound sense of awe toward Leo began to swell in Edwin’s chest. Unlike himself, Leo was someone genuinely needed by everyone here.
Pathetic. I can’t even do a simple chore properly.
With a quiet sigh, Edwin leaned his weight back into the brush.
Why am I completely useless at everything? All I was ever taught was how to read and write, and things like that are utterly pointless in a place like this.
At that moment, an unexpected question struck Edwin’s mind like a sudden bolt of lightning.
Then… what makes me any different from the people living here?
The young prince’s eyes widened at the thought that pierced his consciousness, though he had yet to fully grasp the profound weight of what he had just asked himself.
“Hey. You holding up?”
“Y-Yeah…”
Leo glanced back at the boy trailing several paces behind him. Edwin’s appearance was a complete catastrophe compared to when they had first met. The black powder disguised in his blond hair had melted under a sheen of sweat, streaking dark rivulets down his pale face, while his fine silk clothes were smeared with soot, dust, and unspeakable grime.
Yet the expression on the young prince’s face was far more grounded and earnest than it had been before.
Stealing another subtle glance at him, Leo continued walking in silence.
Hmph. He’s got some grit for a pampered noble brat.
Clearing away the foul discharge and waste of quarantined plague victims was filthy, grueling labor that even the priests visiting on charity missions shrank from in disgust. Yet despite his pale face and weak stomach, the kid hadn't uttered a single word of complaint and had seen every task through to the end.
His stomach’s weak and he doesn’t have a lick of common sense when it comes to chores, but still.
Leo hadn't thought much of him at first seeing his rich silk garments, but now he had to admit the boy wasn't entirely useless. And that realization only fueled his curiosity about who the kid actually was.
“Hey.”
“Um—”
Both boys spoke at the exact same instant, then awkwardly looked away from each other.
“You go first,” Leo muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Edwin lowered his gaze, his voice shrinking.
“…I’m sorry.”
“What? What are you apologizing for?” Leo stared at him, baffled by the sudden apology.
“Well…” Edwin hesitated for a brief second before the words rushed out in a quiet torrent. “I don’t think I was much help today. I couldn’t do anything right, and I was just a burden to you the whole time.”
“A burden?”
Using big, fancy words for a little kid.
Leo let out a short, dry chuckle.
“Yeah, you were pretty hopeless. You must’ve lived a ridiculously comfortable life, huh? Seeing as you can’t even manage chores that toddlers around here do with their eyes closed.”
Though his life as a shunned, neglected prince had been anything but comfortable, Edwin had no retort to offer.
“I told you to fetch some water, and you nearly tumbled headfirst into the well. I told you to cut some grass, and you nearly sliced your own fingers off. I told you to hang the laundry, and you dropped it in the mud and made more work.”
“…I’m sorry,” Edwin murmured, his head drooping even lower in dejection.
Leo stared down at the crestfallen prince for a moment, then casually looked back out over the rocky path.
“Still, you pulled your weight in your own way.”
“Huh?”
“You were actually decent at scrubbing the floors. A person only needs to be properly good at one thing, and that’s enough.” Reaching out, Leo ruffled Edwin’s messy hair with a rough, clumsy hand. “So stop apologizing. You helped out plenty.”
Edwin’s round eyes widened in surprise.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Whenever I go around with Old Man Sage, all the cleaning ends up falling on me anyway while he takes all the credit for himself.”
“Ah…”
“Come on. We need to make it back down to the village before sunset, so pick up the pace.”
“Okay!”
Offering a fleeting smirk—the very first smile he had shown all day—Leo turned and quickened his stride. Scrambling to match his pace, Edwin remembered what had happened earlier and spoke up again.
“Um, hey.”
“What now?”
“What were you going to say to me earlier?”
“Oh, that? It wasn’t anything important.”
Leo tried to shrug it off, but feeling the intense, expectant gaze burning into his side, he clicked his tongue and gave in.
“I was just wondering who you really are. Not that it matters to me either way, though.”