Ch.200The Forgotten One (2)

Diary (日記), a record of events that occurred during the day.

After writing in his diary for a while, he closed it with a thud. Then, with the diary resting on his knees, he took a deep breath. As if preparing for something.

“Then, Najin?”

He looked at Najin and forced a smile. His expression revealed fear and regret.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The moment he said those words.

The last grain of sand in the hourglass fell with a soft rustle. As the upper chamber of the hourglass emptied, his body went limp. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he remained motionless.

He wasn’t dead. His faint breathing could still be heard. He seemed to be asleep, but even when his shoulders were shaken, he showed no signs of waking.

‘Something seems strange.’

-Indeed?

Fundamentally, Transcendents don’t need sleep.

This was especially true in the Outer Continent, and Najin was no exception. Having lived that way for nearly 20 years, he would fall asleep out of habit, but he could go about a month without sleep with no physical consequences.

‘Even when sleeping, an hour or two is sufficient…’

That amount of sleep was enough to relieve fatigue. Sleeping for hours in the Outer Continent, teeming with all kinds of dangers, was nearly suicidal, so naturally, sleep time decreased.

But the man before him was sleeping like the dead.

Najin wandered around the desert for a while until the man woke up, which happened around sunrise. In the early dawn, he slowly opened his eyes.

“……”

His eyes were hazy, almost vacant.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he looked at the cover of the diary in his hand. Two sentences were written on the cover.

-Turn the hourglass.

-Read pages 1 through 10 of the diary.

He turned the hourglass. As the sand slowly fell, he turned the pages of the diary one by one. After reading to page 10, he looked up at Najin.

“Do you know me?”

“We had a brief conversation last night.”

“I see. Did yesterday’s me leave any message?”

“He told me to open to page 781.”

781, 781… muttering those numbers, the man opened to that page and nodded.

“Najin. Is that your name?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“It says here I should introduce what’s written on page 1. It seems I wanted to have a conversation with you.”

He handed the diary to Najin.

Najin accepted it. Since Najin couldn’t read the ancient language written there, Merlin interpreted it for him.

-I lose my memory every day.

-The time given to me is from sunrise to sunset. Turn the hourglass. When the sand in the hourglass runs out, I fall asleep.

-When I wake up, I remember nothing. I write this diary for myself, but to me, you feel like a stranger.

-But I hope.

-May you spend a worthwhile day.

Najin’s eyes narrowed.

“You lose your memory every day?”

“Yes, the only memories I retain are ‘how to read and write’ and that I should speak respectfully to everyone.”

“Respectfully?”

“It seems I believe that nothing in this world deserves to be spoken down to. This is the only memory I have.”

He spoke with an expressionless face.

Soon, he asked Najin’s permission and began to quickly read through the diary. As he read, his expression gradually changed.

“I see.”

After some time had passed.

He closed the diary and exhaled deeply.

“It says I was a knight of Rondinell. My nickname was Blue Hydrangea. In the past, I was called The Blue Spear.”

Though it was about himself, The Blue Spear spoke as if talking about someone else.

“Pleased to meet you, Najin.”

The sand in the hourglass was falling with a soft rustle. Checking the clock, The Blue Spear smiled.

“As I said, I lose all my memories every day. I don’t remember who I am or what conversation I had with you yesterday, but…”

He extended his hand to Najin.

Requesting a handshake, he said:

“Nice to meet you. I am The Blue Spear, knight of Rondinell.”

“Najin. Free knight Najin.”

It was the second introduction for Najin, but the first for The Blue Spear.

2.

“I have a routine I must follow. It’s something my past self emphasized repeatedly. Would you mind waiting a moment?”

What The Blue Spear called a routine was simple.

Standing in the middle of the desert, wielding his spear. Though he must have lost all his memories, while wielding the spear, he didn’t look like someone who had lost his memory.

The angle of the spear, the movements, the breathing, the footwork.

All of it was infinitely close to perfection. Even Najin couldn’t easily imitate such movements.

“Didn’t you say you lose your memory?”

“Yes, I lose my memory every day.”

“But to my eyes, your movements… don’t look like those of someone who’s lost their memory. They’re perfect, without any excess. You certainly don’t look like someone holding a spear for the first time today.”

“Haha, thank you for saying so, but.”

The Blue Spear laughed awkwardly.

“This is different from knowing and remembering how to move precisely. It feels more like instinct. When I hold the spear, I vaguely know how to wield it.”

His head may have lost its memories, but his body hasn’t forgotten the past. Movements repeated over long years. Just as one doesn’t forget how to breathe or how to extend one’s legs to walk, he hasn’t forgotten how to wield a spear.

Movements repeated until they became habit.

Performing these movements in sequence, The Blue Spear seemed to be tracing his memories. Tracing memories that no longer exist, he said:

“It’s written in the diary. I was a knight of Rondinell, and I am the only person who knows how to handle the spear technique with Rondinell’s long history. It says this spear technique must not be forgotten.”

“……”

“Rondinell lives and breathes at the tip of my spear. The history of a nation hangs on the tip of my spear. If I don’t remember, it will be forgotten. So I must remember.”

It was something Najin had heard somewhere before.

“So I must repeat. So it won’t be forgotten. I must engrave the memory in this body.”

Najin had heard a similar story from Kirhov, the Sword Master of Ruin.

“Rondinell lives and breathes at the tip of my sword.”

“I am the proof that Rondinell existed.”

Kirhov said that as he wielded his sword. He tried to prove Rondinell’s existence with his sword. Recalling that memory, Najin carefully spoke:

“Do you happen to know the name Kirhov?”

“Yes, it’s written in the diary. Kirhov, the false knight. But a knight who was more truthful than anyone. There aren’t many records about him, but it seems my past self with intact memories held him in high regard.”

“Then, Rondinell…”

“I know that Rondinell has fallen and been erased from history. It’s written here.”

The Blue Spear exhaled deeply.

“Perhaps my past self, that is, the me with complete memory and sound mind, decided.”

When asked what he decided, The Blue Spear answered:

“To dedicate everything for Rondinell. It seems I thought that if I could leave even a single line about the country where I was born and raised, I would gladly sacrifice my life. This current state must be the result of that decision.”

Saying this, The Blue Spear smiled.

“And seeing that you remember Rondinell and know about Kirhov, a knight from Rondinell, it seems my past self’s choice was worthwhile. That’s fortunate.”

“…Don’t you regret that choice?”

“Regret? I cannot know. I cannot empathize with what my past self might have thought.”

“Then, don’t you resent it?”

“That too, I cannot know. But judging from the records from pages 100 to 600, written by my past self as I was losing my memory, it seems I did resent myself.”

He opened the diary.

It was filled with characters written violently, as if about to tear the paper. The characters were so distorted that even Merlin couldn’t tell what was written.

“My past self might have regretted and resented, but.”

The Blue Spear smiled bitterly.

“Now, I feel nothing. Having lost all memories, I cannot resent or regret. Because I don’t know. But I do have questions.”

“Questions?”

“Was what I protected worth that much? And was my life so worthless that I could throw it away like that? Those are my questions.”

He cannot know what he has thrown away.

“I must have had a life.”

The Blue Spear wielded his spear.

“There must have been things I cherished, people I cared for, objects I treasured, and memories I didn’t want to forget. Surely that’s the case.”

The spear cut through the air, creating wind. Wind mixed with sand scattered. In the middle of the desert under the blazing sun, he endlessly wielded his spear.

“But I threw all of that away. And now, I think those things my past self discarded are precious.”

Of course, The Blue Spear chuckled.

“Though I don’t know what those things are.”

3.

Najin watched as The Blue Spear wielded his spear.

Watching him, Najin thought.

If one loses all memories every day, can they truly be called the same person as yesterday?

‘I’ve seen many people who’ve simply lost specific memories.’

There were many such humans in the Outer Continent. The lost dead. Those who forgot what they were. But they hadn’t lost all memories, only fragmentary and specific ones.

The Helm Knight was such a person.

In the process of slowly turning into one of the dead, the Helm Knight lost his memories. His name, his affiliation, his sword, and finally, he almost forgot himself. Thanks to Najin, that didn’t happen, but…

What was before Najin’s eyes now was perhaps one of the ends the Helm Knight might have faced.

‘A person who has forgotten everything. A being who forgets all memories every day.’

To Najin, it was close to dying every day and being reborn every day.

The Blue Spear dies every day and is reborn every day.

What is given to him is only the time until the sand in the hourglass runs out, from sunrise to sunset. He spent most of that time wielding his spear.

“……”

To Najin, it was.

‘This is a legacy. A last will.’

It was The Blue Spear’s legacy and last will.

Humans approaching death try to leave something behind. Proof that they lived. By leaving it behind, they try to give value to their lives.

“Huk, huk. Huk!”

Breathing heavily, sweating profusely.

In the desert under the blazing sun, The Blue Spear wielded his spear. Each time a handful of sand fell in the hourglass beside him, his eyes trembled. As if feeling fear.

It was fear of death.

As if struggling against that fear, he wielded his spear.

The Blue Spear engraved the traces of his spear in the sand. Traces that would be buried and disappear with the wind after a night, he desperately engraved.

‘A human who loses memory every day.’

A human who dies and is reborn every day.

The Blue Spear was like a mayfly.

There’s an expression that warriors speak through their weapons. If so, for The Blue Spear, wielding his spear was no different from leaving behind evidence that he ‘lived a day’ as a last testament.

Wielding the spear was making a testament.

Writing in the diary was writing a will.

That’s how he lived a day and died again.

Najin could understand why the Star of Mourning pointed to The Blue Spear. And also where to send him off to.

The sun sets. The sand in the hourglass is almost gone.

“Then, The Blue Spear?”

After conversing with The Blue Spear, Najin said to him:

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Holding the Star of Mourning, Najin stood up.