The Mirror's True Gift
Back in the world once more. “Gray hair… that can’t be right.”
I tilt the mirror slightly, examining my somewhat gaunt cheeks in detail. It isn’t merely a pale or sallow complexion. My face looks drained of all vitality, as though the blood itself has fled. Even so, the face staring back at me is still undeniably beautiful. That much hasn’t changed.
Yet there is something ominous about it, like the visage of someone already dying. It isn’t the chilling, corpse-white pallor of Bishop Lumina or Priest Karik, who truly possess dead bodies. Still, the resemblance is unsettling.
But that should have been impossible.
While sealed inside the cocoon, the unconscious lock that had been suppressing my power had come undone, and my abilities returned. It was embarrassing to admit, even to myself, but I had been secretly using the power I was supposed to wield with the utmost caution. Once a month, I had carefully rewound the time of my own body.
I knew it was dangerous—that repeatedly turning back time might connect my body to the cracks beyond the world. Still, I lied to myself that a little wouldn’t hurt.
The reason was simple. Pathetically simple.
“…I just hate menstrual cramps so much.”
On top of that, there was the selfish desire not to age, even a little. With this power, I could remain young forever. Just as Mervin had said, if I wasn’t killed, I could live for thousands of years. Provided, of course, that nothing from beyond the rift swallowed me first.
Yet during that time, I had heard no whispers, so I had believed there would be no real problem. If I could trust Bishop Lumina, she had been drawing out the corruption that had been slowly eroding me. Therefore…
Because I had kept rewinding my body to the state it had been in at nineteen years and four months old, it should have been impossible for my hair to suddenly change color or for my skin to lose its healthy tone. I had returned my body to the time before I ever came here—to the bright, healthy days when I had known nothing of the world’s hardships.
“Did she send the mirror just to show me this?”
I set the mirror down for a moment. A single sheet of paper tucked behind it catches my eye. I unfold it. A short message is written in Riaska script, in Bishop Lumina’s handwriting.
The gift is not the mirror,
but what lies within the mirror.
For a long while I stare blankly at the note and the mirror in turn. Only after a great deal of time has passed do I finally understand what the bishop meant. A bitter smile tugs at my lips.
“I see.”
So this changed appearance is the gift.
It is true that a young woman with bread-colored hair between gold and brown, red eyes, and a small stature is far too easy to identify. The wanted posters for the Witch of Sand, Kaira, have been circulating for quite some time; everyone must still remember my face. This slightly altered appearance would make it much easier for me to travel through imperial territory. Even so, it stings a little that my once-familiar features have been twisted into something that mocks life itself.
“Still… I’m still pretty, even now.”
I think this while gazing into the mirror. It is a different kind of beauty—one tinged with frailty and eeriness that I had never possessed before. At least I still look like a child.
Bishop Lumina had told me that every time she bit me, she was pouring into my body something the God of Death had granted her—the very essence of faith, the core of divinity. That was why my body had been gradually drawing closer to death, and why my appearance had changed. I think of the saint, Azalea, who once radiated light from her entire body whenever her emotions ran high.
“If Azalea had gone through something similar, would light be shining from her eye sockets right now?”
Whether it is death or light, both are ultimately the power of a god. Their directions, purposes, and intentions differ, yet they are all powers granted by beings of unfathomable height. Just like that unknown existence that seeks to make my body its vessel.
If his influence has fixed my memories beyond the flow of time, then it is not impossible for the essence Bishop Lumina has poured into me to also become fixed beyond time.
“In the end, it’s as if the beings of this world and something from beyond are fighting inside my body.”
Now I have become something that must live in this world while being half… no, since the priests of the God of Death are already completely dead, perhaps a quarter dead. I feel a flicker of dissatisfaction that they altered my body into something irreversible without even telling me. Then again, there was already Master Viran, who lived in this world with a completely dead body, so what does it matter?
Master Viran. Yes—if anyone can give advice to someone in my current state, it would be that eccentric and unpredictable archmage. She must have already performed the resurrection by now. I should make visiting her the first step of my journey.
While staring at the mirror, I begin to map out the route in my head. After meeting Azalea and Pirel, I will stop by the cabin where Master Viran once lived. After that…
“Right. Let’s just think of it as an ordinary journey. It wouldn’t be so bad to settle down somewhere in the eastern kingdoms as an adventurer, far from my wanted status.”
Now that I think about it, while I was sorting through memories of my previous travels, one of those strange daydreams had involved Iskil visiting a kingdom at the eastern edge. He had spoken of a king who loved the arts—though that had been nothing more than my own fantasy—and of a place bordering the land where Kadros lived, where dwarven advanced industry flowed in.
Perhaps I should head there first. Since it touches the mountains, there should be plenty of work for an ordinary adventurer, and no one will be looking to capture me.
I look down at my arms, now pale enough to show a faint bluish tint, and clench and unclench my fists several times. While gently stirring my magical circulation, I recall in my mind the flow of the sword I have learned through countless beatings.
“It’ll be fine. I have two masters who have lived for hundreds of years. It’ll definitely be fine.”
The next day, I inform the bishop and set out.
Packing my belongings is a task in itself. Having lived here for nearly five years, I now possess far more possessions than when I first emerged from the insect nest. Bishop Lumina had kindly bought me various clothes, but most of my belongings are books, which I cannot carry with me.
“They were never truly mine to begin with, so it’s only right to leave them. Most of them were given to me through the bishop’s consideration, including the books imported from the Empire.”
In the end, I pack almost exactly the same things I had arrived with: a little dried food, a bundle of bandages, my most important grimoires, a sleeping bag, and imperial silver coins. The only difference is my clothes. The ones I had worn when I arrived had become shapeless rags while I was raising the insects.
I deliberately choose to depart before dawn, while it is still dark. I need to say goodbye to Bishop Lumina while she is still awake. The undead attendants have all seen me busily packing, so the bishop accepts my departure with her usual straightforwardness.
“I’ll miss you, Kaira.”
“I’ll miss you too, Bishop.”
Bishop Lumina smiles gently.
“If you’re still alive, we’ll meet again. I have no intention of dying for at least a few hundred years yet. As long as you stay alive, Kaira. If possible, go around spreading death with the swordsmanship you learned from me, so that the Father of Rest may rejoice.”
I smile back as I reply.
“Anyone who dies by the sword of someone like me would probably be too resentful to enter rest.”
“That’s exactly why we’re here—to soothe such souls.”
A damp touch brushes against the hem of my robe. My adorable slime daughter…
“Rin. You’re not coming with me?”
“No. The liquor here is delicious.”
I make a slightly exasperated face at my daughter’s ridiculous line.
“What kind of reason is that?”
“I’m going to learn proper distillation methods and spread them to the Imperial Capital. There’s still a lot I need to learn. I’m at the stage of figuring out which barrels to use and how to age the liquor properly.”
“Is this for Teacher Naixon?”
“I do want to show the Creator my progress, but… the Creator has become quite wealthy through the contraceptive pills and various other businesses, so money isn’t really an issue. She was even willing to cover the publishing costs for the book you wrote. So this business is…”
Rin smiles strangely.
“It’s for me. I want to blend in with people and be acknowledged while living among them.”
I stroke my daughter’s head.
“I’m glad you’ve found meaning in living.”
I press my lips lightly against Rin’s cheek. The cool membrane of my daughter’s cells, which possess neither warmth nor form, touches my lips. Rin adjusts her chromatophores to make her face slightly red. Even that is adorable.
Once again, I leave the side of warm people. I consider asking Rin for one of her split bodies, but decide against it. I want to travel alone.
Thus I depart from Cashel Groa. At the first tree in the forest I encounter, I lean against it for a brief rest and rummage through my backpack. I take out a book protected by a modified version of Kaira’s Bucket Adhesive—a spell I created to shield items from Riaska’s humid climate—called Kaira’s Water-Repellent Membrane. While pretending to flip through a few pages, I finally allow myself to think the thought I have been holding back.
It was something I had been too embarrassed to say to Rin or Bishop Lumina. Though Rin probably already knows, since she often reads my thoughts. I had no great complaints about the time I spent in the land of death. On the contrary, it had been enjoyable.
Studying Master’s magic, developing new spells I could use—it had been exhausting, yet also deeply satisfying. The only problem was that there had been no other pleasures in the rainy land of death.
Having Bishop Lumina of Death hypnotize me and drink my blood had been pleasurable. When the atmosphere grew heated, it had also been nice to be held naked in her arms, warmed by the body heat she had taken from my blood. Of course, having Rin insert her tentacles into my mind whenever I desired had been good as well.
But there had been one thing missing. The one thing the court here could never provide…
“A man… I want to be held by a man…”
Yes. The excuse that my enemy had become emperor and that I was leaving so as not to cause trouble was just that—an excuse. What I truly desire is the raw, brutal pleasure of being mercilessly violated by strangers. That is the real purpose of this journey.
I close the book. It is time to set off again.
To seek the fresh pleasure I have endured without for so long.