Ch.115A Story That Won’t Evaporate – The End of Childhood (3)

At the very least, it seemed like Father wasn’t actually planning to throw lightning. Father’s mana wouldn’t be depleted by striking lightning just once. Yet, lightning still hadn’t fallen.

I’d seen Father strike lightning multiple times before. Another throbbing headache overwhelmed me. When had I seen that? Well… I didn’t want to remember. He must have struck people with it.

Swallowing my words, I only pulled out the gun from my coat and aimed it. My hand trembled, and with it, my aim wavered too. So this is how childhood ends.

Unless I asked the detective for help, or unless Father made more dangerous moves, I wouldn’t shoot.

I was the kind of person who saw things objectively. I couldn’t possibly feel threatened by an old man who was writhing in pain so severe he could barely concentrate enough to use magic, and who was just barely supporting himself against the interrogation room wall.

I felt like I should shoot. But I didn’t want to. Yet when I thought about him being the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn, when I thought about how he’d just dropped lightning outside, I wanted to pull the trigger. All kinds of emotions mixed together.

Father grew angry again. Like a dying candle suddenly flaring up, like an old beast momentarily regaining its vitality, he regained his clarity and returned to his usual self, growling.

“Is it because I’m your father that you can’t pull the trigger? Yes, I am your father. But what does that matter, Rose! All parents want their children to surpass them. I want you to move forward, even if you have to step on my back! Remaining forever a child, a dependent—that’s the real insult to a parent! You are a Clichy, Rose. You have half my blood. You can do it.”

The smell of ozone spread around Father’s body as he writhed in pain from the electric shock. With almost superhuman willpower, he was gathering mana. Electrical discharge began between his burned fingers.

It seemed like he would strike lightning outside again if I didn’t act, and Father would certainly do it. He absolutely would. To him, those followers outside were worthless compared to his own child. I understood Father. It’s in the moments of greatest hatred that understanding comes most clearly.

My aim continued to waver, but the detective reached out to help steady it. I was aiming directly at Father’s forehead. I took a slow, deep breath to steady myself. I looked at Father.

He was lucky. It was fortunate to be able to leave such last words before dying. If he had been some common criminal, the detective would have put three bullets in his head the moment he entered, leaving only a dying gasp as his final words. So… I had no reason to regret. I felt only hatred for the Forest’s Firstborn, for injustice.

A gunshot rang out in the soundproof interrogation room. The walls absorbed the sound, though it must have been heard outside the room. My ears were ringing. The gunpowder residue made my mouth and nose burn as if I’d swallowed poison.

I coughed. I hoped there might be blood mixed in, but it was just an ordinary cough. Blood stained the wall. In the center of it was the bullet I had fired. The smell of iron was painful.

Thanks to my precise aim, Father slid down the wall with nothing but a single hole in his forehead. The elf who had been running without rest finally found respite. Whether it was eternal rest, I couldn’t say.

I wanted to say something. My voice boiled up. Was it hatred for the Forest’s Firstborn? Or was it a farewell to Father? It was hatred. Definitely hatred. Hatred for the Forest’s Firstborn who had driven me to commit murder.

With my face contorted, as I was about to spew hatred, an unexpected hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the detective. With an expression suggesting he knew what I was about to say, he reached out and held my shoulder.

His hand wore no glove. It meant everything was over. Was he mocking me? With trembling eyes, I looked up at him.

He wasn’t mocking me. His face was as dry as usual. As if telling me not to do something I’d regret, he shook his head briefly and said:

“If you want to carry Charles Clichy in your head for the rest of your life, go ahead. There’s no known method for saying goodbye to regret. I don’t want to see another member added to the Invincibles.”

His tone carried no weight, but his words did. He was saying that if I chose to pour out hatred here, I would end up like the Argonne Invincibles who spend their lives trying to undo their choices.

So should I say farewell words to an ordinary father? I tried to open my mouth, but no voice came out. I couldn’t do it. He was the Forest’s Firstborn. That fact wouldn’t change.

Tears blurred my vision like ill-fitting glasses. I didn’t know what to say to my dead father, to the father I had killed, nor did I know what I should say.

“I don’t know. Then, what should I say? Of course I know many farewells. But I’ve never learned about greetings for situations like this. So, um… please teach me.”

He clicked his tongue. I couldn’t tell if it was my tears making my vision blurry or if it was the comrade’s appearance he had taken on that made him look hazy. He was still looking into my eyes.

“You just killed a man who tried to thread your head and limbs to make you dance to his tune, and now you’re looking for another puppeteer? This is something you have to do yourself. If you pour out hatred in this situation, Charles Clichy wins. It’s like he’s abandoned his aging body and moved into yours. Who do you want to be?”

I raised my hand to wipe away my tears. Now I could see his face clearly. I saw the Argonne Invincible. I saw the Argonne Invincible preventing someone from taking over another person’s soul and life.

My vision blurred again, but I ignored it and spoke. Only tears could decide when they would stop. Just as only I could decide where I would stop.

“Myself. Rose… I don’t know what comes after that. I don’t want to be a Clichy or a Leafman. I’ve seen the bare faces. Still, I want to be my own self.”

The detective responded as if it were obvious, somewhat incredulously. Maybe it was an incredulous thing to say.

“Then do that. No one here is trying to stop you.”

He finally released my shoulder, and I barely managed to walk over to Father, who seemed to be slumped against the wall. I took a deep breath.

I saw the tycoon. The father who seemed a hundred miles tall, whom I had always looked up to and aspired to be like. I saw the image of my father who had once been as solid and strong as if his entire body were made of stone. I blinked.

I saw the image of a good father. The father who taught me not only how to be loved but also how to give love to others. I saw the face of a loving family. I blinked again.

I saw the Forest’s Firstborn. I saw someone who tried to protect other elves because of the terrible memory of losing his family. I saw the elf whose will had twisted until he became a ruthless businessman who owned a private army.

He must have known he was speeding. He must have known he wouldn’t be able to stop at the point he had in mind, that he would keep moving forward endlessly. Nevertheless, it was none other than he himself who pulled the acceleration lever further. It was all his choice. That’s why he died entirely by my choice.

We all chose our paths forward. Our paths crossed, so we collided, and I survived. It was funny how I could summarize it so dryly.

Only now could I see Charles Clichy, not as any other entity. I could see him—the one who built me up, whom I tore down, and who was now a corpse. I reached out and closed his eyes.

It was time to say goodbye now. Forever. He might remain as a photograph I occasionally look at, but he won’t remain as a ghost haunting me. I steadied my breath with difficulty and said my farewell.

“Thank you, Father. For everything. Because of you, I could become this kind of person. Someone who believes in ideals, not idols. Someone who can get back up even after tripping over a stone while gazing at the stars in the sky. And now, I’ve found my own path with my own hands. I won’t forget your teachings, Father. I love you.”

I spoke of love instead of hatred. While the Forest’s Firstborn and his people taught me how to hate, Father was the one who taught me how to love. I decided to carry on Father’s legacy.

However, I decided to break the legacy of the Forest’s Firstborn. He was an idol, not an ideal. He was a stumbling block tripping those who walked while looking at the stars. How could one person have such opposite faces?

After closing my eyes for a moment, I quietly stood up. I felt like a bird leaving its nest, leaving behind its eggshell. Still, I wasn’t a bird but a person. A person with things to do right now.

I put the gun, still smelling of gunpowder, back into my suit pocket and helped Inspector Leonard, who was barely standing up.

“I had no choice but to shoot. He had already struck lightning once, and it was clear he would do more. Given the urgent situation, there should be mitigating circumstances, right?”

Inspector Leonard quietly nodded. He also looked at Father’s face slumped against the wall for a moment before turning away. He observed a moment of silence as if in memorial.

“Yes. There will be mitigating circumstances. We’ll have to work to make it so. What will you do now, Rose? I mean… it’s all over. Charles, the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn…”

I shook my head at those words. With my usual smile, I slowly shook my head again.

“It’s not over. Everything hasn’t even begun to end. It’s just the beginning now. If we’re talking about endings, only the beginning part has ended. Oh, I have to go to work tomorrow. I’ll probably move out of the apartment too… and I’ll throw away the checkbook with the family accounts. I’m not sure if I’ll have enough money to keep employing Paulina. Still, I want to try living my own life.”

It was as if I had truly become independent now. Paulina, who had been leaning against the wall, approached me. My guardian, my reliable lawyer. Yet, even she was gray… someone appointed by my family.

Massaging her tingling forearm, Paulina spoke in a pleasant voice. Not because the Forest’s Firstborn was dead.

“I hope you earn a lot of money, Rose. I belong to quite a large law firm, so private employment is expensive. Until then, you’ll have to get a bit more familiar with the people on the streets… but you won’t need to worry about that.”

It seemed Paulina was no longer wary of the detective at all. My principles were complicated, but his were just two: survive one more day, and if you can survive the day, take the job that came in first.

Seeing what those clean principles had accomplished for me, the mix of morality, justice, ideals, and idols in my head seemed like a ridiculous one-act play. People could live that simply.

Now I’ll go home and pack my things. I’ll need to find a new place to live, but since I’ve been saving almost all my money from my journalist job while living on family funds, I should have enough to get by for a while.

Except for lawyers I met through Inspector Leonard or Paulina, I won’t have many sources left. Still, I had Madam Gremory… Samuel, and the Argonne Invincibles.

The greenhouse was shattered. I had thrown off the bloody raw leather coat. The air was cold. There was no guide to point the way. Protection was fading away. But I was becoming more natural.

Inspector Leonard opened the interrogation room door, suggesting he could handle things here. A crowd of reporters had gathered outside the interrogation room. Before the flashes could go off, the detective blocked me.

Though I was partially hidden, I was still photographed, but his curse helped me again. All the photos would be blurred beyond recognition.

We escaped them and went down the stairs. The back door of the police station was still open, and the corridor in front of it was full of followers who had been literally destroyed by fists and blades, then confirmed dead with gunshots.

The back of the police station was still quiet. Ysil’s mercenaries, except for one elf, were waiting for us there. I was a bit worried, but they quickly eased my concerns.

“We sent the elf back to report to Madam Ysil and to avoid any misunderstandings since he’s an elf. So, is the Forest’s Firstborn dead?”

“Ah, yes… I was worried you might have gotten caught up in this. Yes, I shot him. It seems all the followers outside have been dealt with too. Well… let’s go back! Oh, are you coming with us, Michael?”

He made a gesture like tilting a glass, suggesting he was going for a drink. The job was done. The detective’s responsibility to protect me from cameras was over.

“Tell them I’ll return the car separately in a few days. That’s all.”

Before he completely turned away, I took out a five-dollar bill from my wallet and held it out. It wasn’t payment. Just a request for an introduction.

“Sure! I can do that much, but before you go, please let me know if there’s a trustworthy real estate agent. You heard me say I’m moving out of the apartment.”

“So you’re saying goodbye to hot water too.”

Instead of judging, he smirked and wrote down some names and addresses in a notebook and handed it to me. They didn’t look like real estate agents.

“They know the neighborhood well, so go there and they’ll introduce you. If they ask who you are, say Husband referred you. When they ask that, they’re interested in who referred you, not who you are.”

The first rule of the street seemed to be: trust no one. Even something as simple as getting an introduction required a guarantee.

Wealthy people had no hesitation in trusting each other. They were so unscarred that no matter how much I dressed and acted like a journalist, the moment I mentioned my name, they would show a friendly face.

I might miss that a bit from now on. But not enough to want to put the eggshell back on.

In front of the police station, elves who had been shot dead lay scattered. Some seemed to have removed their masks and put down their guns to surrender… among them was also an angel struck by lightning.

His wings, crafted of gold, had burned away, and his expression was a mix of anger and hatred, so vivid it seemed flames might rise from his eyes at any moment. He had a face resembling the hatred Father couldn’t let go of until the end.

I almost became sentimental at the sight, but I laughed at the words of another angel who came down, picked up the stiffened body, and muttered:

“This bastard’s the only one who’ll get both the life water allowance and the death-in-service consolation money. He’ll rest for a week until the God-President revives him… Damn, lucky bastard. While we’re all busting our asses because of the followers, he gets to rest alone.”

There’s no need to be sentimental. The weight of death is different for everyone. For angels who can come back to life, that level of weight seems just right.

I didn’t sympathize with the elves who had fallen due to their own actions. I might have felt a bit sorry for an angel who died fighting them, but with that level of gravity, there was no need to burden my heart.

For others, even this story might be volatile, but not for me. I will never forget today. I will never forget what I held in my hand today.

Having grasped today, I now had to prepare for tomorrow. Though it was a trivial matter, I kept turning over a question that had no answer. Ah, it’s nothing profound or philosophical. It was something very simple.

What on earth should I say to my fellow journalists and the editor-in-chief when I go to work tomorrow? My image stopping the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn will be all over the newspaper…