Nevertheless, Irreversible Things (2)
I stepped into the general store as if in a trance, desperately clinging to thoughts like maybe Mother opened a new shop after losing Father.
A young woman with red hair who looked about my age was organizing merchandise when she sensed my presence and spun around. She immediately flashed a bright business smile and greeted me cheerfully.
“Welcome! Is there anything I can help you find?”
I stared at the unfamiliar clerk for a moment before asking,
“Is the owner here?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Are you acquainted with the master? He’s right over there…”
The clerk gestured toward a corner of the shop. I saw nothing.
“There’s no one there.”
“Ah, well… he’s rather… small in stature…”
“What?”
A sharp, high-pitched male voice cut in. It came from the direction the clerk had indicated. Something like a dark green shadow seemed to wriggle and shift. I narrowed my eyes and focused on the spot.
From behind a small table nestled between packaged bundles, a tiny figure that had been clicking abacus beads and recording figures in a ledger rose to its feet.
“I thought I taught you to handle customers properly so this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.”
The figure grumbled at the clerk, but when he turned to me his tone softened into something smooth and professional as he began the “customer service.”
“What can I do for you, honored customer? If our clerk’s service caused you any discomfort, please tell me at once and I will correct it immediately.”
He wore an obviously expensive shirt and coat paired with gleaming velvet trousers.
“A goblin?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. The goblin owner seemed slightly offended by my reaction, but he kept his customer-facing smile and answered with practiced patience.
“Hmm. First time in our shop, I see. His Majesty the newly elected Emperor is quite generous toward other races, which is why someone like me could open a store in a fine location such as this. You won’t be disappointed, so please take your time browsing.”
I already knew the Emperor held an open attitude toward other species from traveling with our hero party. But… but.
As expected… it isn’t Mother.
No matter what the goblin owner said, my heart only throbbed with pain.
The sensation of my last hope collapsing, like a kick to the chest, a chill of despair running from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet—I fought to keep it from showing as I barely managed to ask,
“Owner, may I ask how long you’ve had the shop?”
The wrinkles that briefly creased the goblin’s forehead clearly said why would you ask something like that, but he maintained his professional smile and answered patiently.
“This is our third month. In that time I’ve joined the merchants’ guild and earned recognition from the long-established shopkeepers here for both my business skill and principles. As you can see,”
he shrugged,
“I am a goblin, after all.”
It was both self-promotion and a boast laced with quiet pride, but it barely registered with me. I had no attention to spare for another shop’s advertisement.
“Well, three months isn’t very long, so you might not have noticed us. Before this I was a wandering merchant who only dreamed of settling down. Then I heard that, for some reason, a good spot in the capital market had come available at a cheap price—”
The moment I heard that, I thrust my face directly in front of the goblin’s nose.
“Uh, uhh? Customer, if you have something to say…”
The owner looked startled by my sudden closeness. Since I was human and larger than him, he probably felt a flicker of intimidation. Seeing that I appeared to be a mage, he might also have worried what I would do to his goods if angered.
“How… did this happen…?”
“Customer, if you speak so suddenly I don’t quite understand…”
“The shop that was here before. What happened to it?”
I pressed him as though I had lost my mind. The goblin’s eyes widened in surprise, and I even heard the female clerk swallow hard as she watched the exchange.
“Ah, before us… it was an empty ruin of a house. Now that I think about it, the neighbors said there used to be a bakery…”
“I’ll ask once more. What happened to that shop…?”
The flustered look faded from the goblin’s eyes. The gaze surrounded by green lids regained its composure and shifted back into the demeanor of someone dealing with an ordinary customer.
“Hmm. So you were looking for that particular shop. Very well. I’ll explain. Attracting new customers is an important part of the job, after all.”
The goblin spoke with apparent ease, yet neither his tone nor his expression held any trace of a smile. It clearly wasn’t a pleasant story.
“Nine or ten months ago, the bakery couple apparently became entangled in some crime against a high-ranking noble. They tried to rob a noble’s daughter, or so the rumor goes. People were reluctant to speak of it, so I don’t know the exact details. But they say the daughter of those bakers was none other than the mage from the hero’s party—the one who defeated the Demon King.”
I felt my face harden without meaning to. Yes. Zophy had said something like that.
“The sudden criminal act by the family of the hero who had even slain the Demon King. It wasn’t a story easily believed. Honest bakers turning to robbery—anyone could see it was a frame-up. Because the hero was involved, the Empire’s interrogation office conducted its own investigation in case there was a connection to the Demon King’s remnants. In the end the truth never came to light. And the daughter who was the hero lost contact around the same time.”
I nodded slowly. It was a story I could not possibly fail to recognize, aside from the Empire’s investigation.
The goblin took my nod as understanding and continued.
“People are convinced the Demon King was involved. They pity that bakery family. Even so, no one wanted to take over the shop’s location. They were afraid of getting dragged into it. The rent kept dropping.”
So that’s what happened. At least it seems my parents’ names weren’t completely tarnished even after their deaths. That’s a relief.
Yes. It was enough that I alone carried the infamy.
“Because I don’t believe in the superstitions humans cling to, I was able to acquire this excellent spot so cheaply. As you might expect, there have been no attacks by the Demon King’s remnants, nor have the missing couple reappeared to claim their rights.”
The goblin finished speaking, then added one more thing as though it had just occurred to him.
“Ah, you’re a mage, aren’t you, customer? There are some items the daughter left behind. Would you like to see them? Other mages looked them over but all refused to buy, saying they didn’t seem like something a hero would leave, or that they must be the scribblings of a mad mage. Are you interested?”
I nodded with an empty expression. …Judging by the mages’ evaluation, they were undoubtedly my belongings.
On the shelf the owner personally guided me to lay several worn-out indoor garments that still seemed to carry my scent, books ranging from basic to intermediate texts on mind-interference magic, and the blank spellbooks I had used to construct my magic.
And my precious pocket watch.
Noticing how long I stared at the watch, the goblin added,
“When I first acquired it, I wound the spring to see if it still worked and it snapped. It hadn’t been maintained for a long time—probably rusted. Still, since it belonged to the hero, I displayed it hoping someone might buy it.”
I gave the goblin a small nod and quietly opened one of the blank spellbooks.
Inside were crude spell formulas scribbled wildly with fingers smeared in charcoal and lamp-oil soot—nonsense even a first-year magic academy student could recognize as completely wrong.
“It really is an utterly bogus spellbook.”
I offered the professional mage’s assessment to the owner, who clearly hoped I might purchase it. A dark shadow flickered across the goblin’s face at the harsh criticism he must have heard many times, but he quickly returned to his business smile. A true professional.
“…So I’ll take everything.”
The goblin’s eyes widened, then began to sparkle with delight. …It seemed my leftover belongings had been a nuisance to him as well.
I handed over three silver coins I had received as escort pay and purchased the pathetically cheap assortment of junk—items whose display tag grandly proclaimed them “Hero’s Mementos.”
Cheap as they were, the sum was still enough to stay at an inn for ten days.
The goblin owner still looked slightly incredulous, but his expression clearly said he was glad to be rid of inventory that had been gathering dust in the corner.
Having received the money, the goblin spoke with a sociable grin. He was probably happier about the newly freed display space than the coins themselves.
“If you collect such items, you must be fond of hero stories, customer.”
I offered a silent, mechanical smile.
“There are quite a few merchants in this neighborhood who claim to have been the hero’s childhood friends. If you’d like, I could introduce you. Would that interest you?”
They were probably real childhood friends—the children she had actually played with. By now they would be helping run their family shops. Some might have inherited the businesses outright.
I wanted to meet any of them at least once… but I was in no position to do so. As a potential fugitive who didn’t know when a warrant might be issued, encountering anyone who knew me was dangerous.
At that goblin’s general store I also bought some portable rations and one large leather backpack to carry my things.
The moment I left the shop—my former home—the slanted sun painted the sky in autumn colors, and I saw people hurrying home. Some were preparing to close for the day, others getting ready for night business. I stood for a long time, drinking in the sight of those busy merchants.
A warm scene. Kind people. This place, filled with precious memories of the childhood I had gained in my second life… I would not be able to return for a very long time. Not until everything I had left behind had changed. That, at least, was something even I could not reverse.
What happened to Mother?
Zophy had said she used my power to turn Mother into a little girl and sold her. If that had not been one of Zophy’s shallow lies, then at least it was true that Mother had not died in front of her. But…
All of Mother’s memories had been erased. She had been returned to the girl she was before giving birth to me; she probably wouldn’t even remember me. Was that still Mother? And if I found her like that, what could I possibly do?
I stared blankly at my left palm. In the end, because of this cursed power, Mother had essentially vanished from the world.
Ugh…
I pulled up the hood of my robe to hide my burning face and hurried into the narrow alley between buildings—barely wide enough for one person to pass.
A cramped back alley at dusk, untouched by sunlight.
The stench of discarded waste and trash rose from the ground, mingling with the damp smell of moss and mold. In that ordinary little alley behind the market street, I collapsed.
I didn’t care that the hem of my robe dragged through the unidentified filth pooled on the ground.
Then I lifted the edge of my skirt, hooked my fingers under the underwear hidden beneath skirt and robe, and drew it aside.
Because I needed to touch the place hidden there—the secret part of a girl. Because I needed to release, somehow, the endless ecstasy that came from the feeling of having been utterly destroyed.
In that dark alley abandoned even by the sun, I began to masturbate.