Chapter 169: Elizabeth
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 169: Elizabeth
The chirping of insects echoed through the late autumn night.
It was likely the final song of these tiny creatures, for they would soon reach the end of their brief lives, burying themselves beneath the footprints of winter.
Shhh—shhh— Their chorus was deep and lingering, like an ethereal funeral dirge.
...
"Got a smoke?"
Muen approached Lorenzo and patted him on the shoulder.
He offered a friendly greeting, looking for all the world like an old friend catching up. Lorenzo, however, looked as if he were staring at a monster. He was trembling violently.
From the corner of his eye, Lorenzo glanced down the alley. Aside from himself and this monster, not a single soul remained standing. He instinctively tried to back away, only to step into a puddle.
His leather boots were instantly soaked. A viscous liquid seeped into his soles.
He knew it wasn't water. It was a pool of blood.
The entire alley was now awash in it—blood that had gathered until it nearly formed a stream.
This was no pampered son of a Duke. This was a monster wearing a human skin!
Lorenzo felt his heart being utterly consumed by terror. He clearly still had the strength to fight, yet he couldn't even find the will to lift the broken blade in his hand.
"You... how are you this strong?"
Pampered, arrogant, inexperienced, cowardly, and prone to fainting at the sight of blood—those were the labels Lorenzo associated with noble scions. None of them seemed to apply to the man standing before him.
"I didn't know I was this strong either. I actually gave myself a bit of a fright just now," Muen said. He reached into Lorenzo’s pocket, rummaged around, and pulled out a cigarette and a box of matches.
Muen rarely used matches. He struck several, but none caught fire.
Finally, with the very last match, he lit the cigarette and took an eager, deep drag.
Then, he choked.
He coughed pathetically, his eyes watering and his nose running.
He threw the cigarette to the ground with force and crushed it under his heel, cursing, "What a piece of junk! Tastes like death!"
Then, he looked up at Lorenzo and asked seriously:
"Now, can you answer my question, Mr. Lorenzo?"
"Q-Question? What question?"
"The one from before, Mr. Lorenzo. Are you really that forgetful?"
Muen leaned in close, staring into his eyes, and enunciated every word:
"Are you—just as casual—about your own death?"
"No!"
Faced with those eyes, clear as deep, dark lakes, Lorenzo let out a terrified shriek. "I can't die! I can't die!"
"Can't die?"
Muen chuckled. "Look around you. Everyone is dead. Even your confidant. He was just begging me to spare him, saying something about having a sister. So tell me, Mr. Lorenzo, why is it that you can't die?"
"I haven't achieved immortality yet! I haven't received the eternal life promised by the Lord! How can I die?!"
The will to survive finally overcame his terror. Lorenzo’s stiff body lurched into motion.
He turned and ran.
Run!
I have to run!
I still have money! I have connections!
I can hide myself away where even the Duke won't find me!
I still want immortality!
I did all those things... wasn't it all for the eternal life promised by the Lord?
But he only managed to take a single step.
The entire world seemed to tilt. He saw the ground rushing up to meet his face.
He collapsed into the pool of blood.
Then came the pain—a searing agony from his ankles.
He looked back in horror and discovered that his feet had been cleanly severed at the ankles.
His blood flowed out, merging with the crimson pool. Just like the severed limbs scattered about, no one could tell whose blood belonged to whom anymore.
"No, I can't die yet!"
He crawled forward, using both hands, dragging himself along like a mangy cur.
Muen didn't chase him. He simply let him crawl.
He let the man's lifeblood drain away.
Muen turned and walked over to the woman whose name he didn't even know.
She was still alive.
But she was on death's doorstep.
Muen carefully turned her over and cradled her in his arms.
Then, he froze, at a loss for what to do.
Just as that stranger who had invited him to "rob the robbers" had said, he was merely a noble son looking for a thrill. He was completely unprofessional.
He carried no healing potions, and he knew no healing magic.
He could only watch as the life force of the girl in his arms ebbed away, bit by bit.
Perhaps even if he had brought something, it wouldn't have mattered. Her injuries were so severe that even a deity would have been powerless to save her.
Muen remained silent for a moment. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe the blood and filth from her face.
But as he wiped, his hand began to tremble.
As the heavy makeup was cleared away, revealing the faint freckles of youth, he realized that the person in his arms could hardly be called a woman.
She was just a girl.
"Dammit."
Muen felt something tearing at his heart. When he focused on the sensation, he realized it was an overwhelming wave of self-reproach and regret.
Because of a single moment of superfluous kindness, he had caused the death of an innocent girl!
If he had known, he should have cursed at her and driven her away back then.
At least she would still be alive, wouldn't she?
"Sir...?"
A voice as faint as a mosquito's hum reached his ears. It was so soft that he only heard it because he was so close.
"I'm here."
Muen thought for a moment, then let his voice return to the disguised tone he had used before. "I'm here."
The girl smiled peacefully. Muen wasn't sure if it truly counted as a smile; he only saw the corners of her mouth lift slightly. "It really... is you."
"Yeah..." Muen replied, but he didn't know what else to say.
"Sir... am I... white enough now?" the girl asked softly.
"Yes." Muen’s heart wrenched. He nodded vigorously. "Very white."
"Do you... like it?"
"I do."
"I see... actually... more than being a teacher... I wanted... to hear you... say that... even if... it's just a lie..."
"I'm so happy..."
The girl spoke in broken fragments. He could feel her breath growing weaker and weaker.
Yet she continued to smile. It wasn't just her mouth anymore; her eyes, her features—everything relaxed.
Like a night-blooming cereus about to open.
A fleeting moment.
Gone.
"You... stop talking. Let me think. Let me think if there's a way to save you."
Muen felt his breathing grow erratic. His mind was a chaotic mess.
Countless thoughts surged like a tide, only to recede just as quickly, leaving nothing behind.
He remembered that Ancient Dragon Heart Blood contained immense life force, but the moment he brought it out, he realized its terrifying pressure would crush the girl instantly. He had to pull it back in a panic.
He thought of the Black Book, but it ignored his calls entirely.
He even thought of the Withered King's flames, but to anyone other than himself, those flames represented nothing but pure death.
After all that frantic effort, he realized he could do nothing.
The son of a Duke, a top student of the Academy, the last disciple of Teacher Mela... and he could do nothing.
He couldn't even save a single goddamn girl!
"Can you... tell me your name?"
Finally, in his state of wretched helplessness, Muen asked softly.
"..."
He saw the girl's lips move slightly.
"What?"
Muen leaned closer.
"My name is... Elisa..."
"..."
Muen felt the girl in his arms suddenly become incredibly soft, like a cloud about to drift away.
The world went silent. Even the insect chirps vanished.
The girl's hand fell limp. There was no longer a sound of breath.
Her body gradually grew cold.
Muen sat in silence before gently laying her down.
He took off his thick coat and draped it over her.
This way, even if she had to go somewhere without the sun, she wouldn't be cold.
Muen stood up and gripped the pure white dagger once more.
He gripped it as if it were the most tangible form of power and authority in this world.
He looked down, studying the short blade, and whispered softly.
"Since you're so white, I actually wanted to name you Bai Jie or something. It sounds nice and it's a bit of a joke."
The dagger hummed softly, as if the living spirit within was expressing its displeasure.
"Since you don't like it, let's go with a different name."
Muen’s gaze flickered one last time to the girl lying quietly on the ground, looking as if she were merely asleep.
"Elisa... beth. From now on, I'll call you Elizabeth. It's a name fit for a princess."
Muen gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Heh, giving you this name... I feel a bit of that 'waifu' shame, like I'm bringing a fictional wife to a fight. But forgive me. That girl needs to leave something behind."
The living spirit continued to hum, but this time, it vibrated with joy.
Like the final stroke of a painting, or the dotting of a dragon's eyes, this masterpiece by Grand Magister Mela Domir was finally complete.
In Muen’s hands, she would reveal her most terrifying edge.
"Elizabeth, make sure to keep reminding me."
Muen stepped forward, following the two trails of blood into the depths of the darkness.
"The title 'Son of a Duke' means jack shit in the face of the fate I must confront."
Elizabeth hummed softly, as if in response.