Ch.199Story

After finishing his story, Leopold gave a light greeting and immediately left the hospital room.

Well, he seemed busy without even proper time to sleep.

I could tell just by looking at him. That he was suffering under an excessive burden.

Leopold’s faction is, so to speak, a coalition of various interest groups.

Lord Wien who desires power. Ludwig who wants stability for the Empire. The Duke of Faelrun who demands imperial support for the safety of the north.

Even the three electors wanted different things. Not to mention the local lords who wanted broader territories and expanded autonomy.

Persuading them and coordinating their interests to maintain them as a single group depended entirely on Leopold’s ability.

…It wouldn’t be an easy task.

—-

The empty hospital room was silent.

This was where Leopold’s mother, Empress Dowager Anna, had been recuperating, wasn’t it?

Warm sunlight poured through the wide-open window, and it was a nice room where one could see the garden of the 1st Prince’s Palace at a glance.

Though I had no intention of looking outside, as I remembered clearly what I had done in that garden.

I gulped down the water Leopold had left behind, trying to calm my churning stomach.

But my sunken mood showed no signs of improving.

I made another mistake.

This time too, countless people would die.

No. They’re probably dying right now. Because this damn civil war has already begun.

Civil war.

The weight of those two words pressed down on my head.

Honestly, it would be a lie to say I never anticipated it.

From the moment I helped a prince who should have been assassinated and created a competitive structure… I vaguely suspected that the two factions might clash head-on.

That’s why I believed Leopold’s guarantee that there would be no civil war.

I accepted his optimism that such a future wouldn’t happen because I wanted to avoid it. It was easier on my mind that way.

But in the end, I was wrong.

Where did I go wrong?

Every time I slowly traced back my memories, all that remained was regret.

On the day Ernst reappeared, if I had risked my life to break through Valenstein and his knights to cut down Ernst.

No. Even with insufficient power and justification, if I had launched a preemptive attack to expose Isabella’s true identity.

No, even before that. If I had used Claire, whom I had left alone considering my relationship with Ophelia, as a card to expose Isabella, even if it meant becoming Ophelia’s enemy.

As Leopold said, everything might have ended with defeat due to superior force. But maybe…

“Damn it…”

Whether it was my fault or Leopold’s, the distinction was meaningless.

Because I was the one who agreed with his argument.

I too chose safety over risk.

—-

Someone might say I’m worrying unnecessarily.

This civil war was bound to happen anyway. What reason does a foreigner like you have to feel responsible for these people’s lives?

But… whenever I feel this sticky, damp discomfort clinging to my chest, I simply cannot draw that line in my thinking.

If only I could perceive this world as a game, it would have been easier.

Even if the death toll on the monitor reached tens of thousands, when viewed from outside the monitor, they were just numbers.

Even if mountains of corpses piled up, they were merely a scene of mixed polygons.

But everything changed after I fell into this world.

Whenever I see dead bodies, what comes to mind isn’t my memory of escaping reality through games, but from before that.

From seventeen to twenty-three.

The time when I was sold off to a foreign country under the pretext of deployment, living with a gun in hand.

Shooting and killing enemies who committed terrorism, recovering the bodies of sacrificed citizens, losing friends while eradicating the bastards’ strongholds during my youth.

Those unsettling memories.

There was no problem when playing through a monitor.

Back then, I could ignore old memories by intoxicating my brain with peripheral fun and alcohol.

After all, corpses in games were just sounds and flat images.

Without smell, touch, or detailed sense of reality, they didn’t evoke any vivid realism.

But here… this…

It was undeniable, reality itself.

What was thrust upon me in exchange for a perfectly good leg was a world that would perish along with tens of millions of deaths.

This was the world I had to live in, and if possible, I wanted the world I lived in to be peaceful.

And I thought I needed to make an effort for that.

That I had to eliminate all the enemies I knew without exception, with my own hands.

Yes. This might just be a pathetic hero complex.

But.

Every time I see those dying, those who will die, I find myself pondering.

A fundamental question that I cannot answer because no one will answer it for me.

…The reason why I fell into this world.

—-

The Sword of Oath tells me to save people. Is that the voice of God?

An unknown impulse whispers to accept itself and kill everyone. Is that the fate of this body?

Frosting’s voice only curses me to die. Blind snake. It wasn’t me who killed you, it says.

And the owner of this body is currently angry, telling me to get out immediately.

I had a rough idea of what would happen when I released her… and what actually happened was far worse than expected.

At least, the only voice I felt inclined to follow was the sword’s.

That’s why I’ve fought holding the sword.

Even while vaguely feeling that voice changing me little by little.

—-

Tired of the overwhelming regret and depression, I habitually reached for a cigarette… but then gave up.

There was no way cigarettes would be placed in a hospital room in the first place, and even if I smoked, it would only clear my head momentarily without changing the situation.

It was an escape. An escape that forcibly suppressed and ignored responsibility and burden.

Now was not the time for that.

Even Leopold was working through the night to resolve this situation instead of regretting.

Even if his motivation was the self-satisfying desire for survival and revenge, he was doing his best.

So… I should do what I can too.

Lying on the bed, looking at the empty space, I let out a deep sigh.

As if spitting out everything weighing on my chest.

I’m not sure if this is a wise choice, but…

I should try anyway.

“…You’re listening, aren’t you? Let’s talk.”

…

…

[Talk? You and I, now of all times?]

A cold voice echoed in my head.

—-

“…Yes. Now of all times.”

Hersella.

No, the true Haschal Median Aishan-Gioro. The original owner of this body who had her flesh stolen by me.

Yes. I finally spoke to her.

Because I came to realize painfully that ignoring the problem wouldn’t solve it.

[Ha, how incredibly shameless. Weren’t you the one who covered your ears and forcibly ignored me whenever my voice reached you? You thief, as vile as you are weak.]

She growled, clearly showing her contempt, hatred, and anger toward me.

I would have done the same in her position.

Forcibly taking her body, consuming it as I pleased, while pretending not to hear the original owner’s words.

If she could, she’d probably want to break my neck.

“Vile, weak… certainly, from your perspective, that’s not wrong. Yes. I’m sorry for taking your body and for ignoring your words.”

But I had no choice but to ignore them.

From the beginning, all she said was either “get out now” or “why aren’t you tearing them all to pieces and killing them?”

Both were things I couldn’t accommodate.

[Sorry? Don’t make me laugh with such wordplay. Having stolen someone else’s body like a ghost and still occupying it as if it’s yours, how dare you spout such nonsense. If you had even a shred of guilt, the right thing would be to get out of my body right now.]

Her voice was still filled with intense anger and distrust.

Burning resentment. Unfortunately, the only way to appease it was not something I could do.

Even if it were possible, it was something I shouldn’t do.

“…That would be difficult. I didn’t enter your body by my own will in the first place. I don’t know why this happened, nor do I know how to resolve it.”

It was the truth without a single lie.

Though it might be hard for her to believe.

[Do you think I would believe that?]

“Well… whether you believe me or not, the truth doesn’t change. As long as I don’t know the cause, I have no choice but to live in this body… and you have no choice but to live like this. That’s reality.”

[…..]

Hersella was silent for a while.

Whether she accepted my words… or still doubted, thinking I was lying. I couldn’t know her true feelings.

[…This is not living. It’s being half-dead.]

She muttered, grinding her teeth as if lamenting her situation.

A deep sigh echoed in my mind.

[How ironic. I, who was called a ghost, have now become no different from a real ghost.]

“……”

I had nothing to say.

My consolation would be nothing more than deception to her.

[Well… at least now I don’t need to shout into the void without response. You said talk? Fine. Go ahead and speak.]

Her voice was still filled with resentment.

But she seemed willing to engage in conversation with me.

…Not a bad start, I suppose.