Ch.39Mourner on the Snowy Field (1)

This is a story from my childhood.

My friend and I were quite diligent.

I worked hard not to bring shame to my sister who raised me, while my friend had a father who was admirable by anyone’s standards, so that explained his behavior.

Even without that, he was an innocent kid who wasn’t easily swayed, so it made sense.

Anyway, because of that, our conversations rarely went off track.

Usually, if our conversations took a strange turn, it was due to a third party.

I remember that day was like that too.

“My dream is to be a house husband.”

Said a friend whose name I can barely recall now.

My best friend and I were taken aback, but despite our mockery, the guy’s desire remained unshaken.

He was surprisingly practical yet pure in a way that didn’t suit an elementary school student.

“If a woman who earns more money and is more capable than me makes money for me and loves me, I can do housework and relax comfortably at home.”

Watching him laugh about how dreamy it sounded, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not at the time.

Looking back now, I think it was completely sincere.

Of course, it wasn’t a time when gender roles were actively discussed, so both my friend and I expressed disapproval, but that guy didn’t care at all.

There were mainly two reasons why this suddenly came to mind.

One was that I really had nothing to do and was spending time staring blankly at the tent ceiling.

The other was that I wasn’t much different from that situation, to the point where I felt a sense of personal connection.

If this were a creative work, wouldn’t the title be something like “Living as a Snow Leopard’s House Husband”?

I rolled over with such idle thoughts.

On the cold snowy plain with the blowing wind.

I was guarding the campsite alone like a house husband while Isla went hunting.

It couldn’t be helped.

While Isla was capable of almost everything—cooking, setting up and maintaining the campsite, hunting, butchering, tanning, equipment repair, and even scouting the surroundings.

I, a powerless modern person whose only talent was choosing the wrong race and becoming a monster, could only do things that Isla could also do.

If there was something I could do better than Isla, I would have taken charge of it to avoid this miserable feeling, but that wasn’t easy either.

At best, the only things I was better at than Isla were moving heavy loads or carrying wood for firewood, and even then, Isla would be better than me if she had a cart.

This wasn’t a prediction but an observed result.

The feeling when Isla perfectly trimmed and organized a tree into firewood and brought it to the campsite while I was dragging one large tree…

As things turned out this way, I had to hide in my small cocoon to protect my mental health.

I had to curl up and wait for growth, sheltering from frightening external stimuli.

It was unfortunate that even that cocoon was a tent that Isla originally carried around.

I lay on my side, staring blankly at my equipment that Isla had maintained and propped up.

To be precise, it was armor, a surcoat, and a longsword. I had lent my cloak to Isla.

She said the cloak was good for hunting and carrying carcasses. When she said that, I couldn’t refuse and lent it to her.

Since it could change shape freely, its conspicuous reddish color wasn’t a problem. She was probably wearing it on her wrist like a bracelet by now.

I got up from where I was lying and briefly looked outside.

[Play Time: 9,037 hours]

Outside the tent was an endless snowy plain and a faint city in the far distance.

The subtle scent of the sea reached my monstrous nose, and the slight saltiness in the blowing wind tickled my skin.

In that sea breeze, I recalled what Melody had said.

“I think we need to spend some time on internal control and reorganization. Since there’s nothing else to request… would you mind staying nearby?”

That was three days ago. After hearing that, we left Marsi and set up camp.

And nothing happened for three days. Almost every day was the same.

Isla would wake up first in the morning, stretch with her tail swaying, shoulder her large crossbow, and head outside.

I would see her off, and Isla would walk away toward the forest without making a sound. After seeing her off, I had nothing to do, so I would lie down blankly and think about builds or ways to counter mages.

After spending time like that, Isla would return.

With animals that had arrows in their necks, or marks of being pierced by crossbow bolts in their hearts, or unconscious from being hit by lead bullets meant for slings.

After helping hang such animals on trees, all I could do was watch blankly. Isla could dismantle any beast, no matter how large, in an instant without my help.

A skillfulness that made me wonder if she had lived like this her whole life. Draining blood, separating skin and meat, storing edible meat, and organizing bones for various purposes.

The daily tasks varied slightly, but they were generally similar.

From this, I could tell what kind of person Isla was.

Isla was a skilled hunter who was born and raised in the North.

In other words, she was specialized in producing house husbands. If I were a housewife, I would have something to do, but a housewife wasn’t really necessary at a campsite.

Apparently, that’s normal in the North.

Even when I lived with my sister, I wasn’t this much of a freeloader.

I was grateful for having a body that didn’t need to eat much. If I had to eat proportionally to my health, I wouldn’t have been able to bear the guilt.

“…This is making me depressed.”

My thoughts seemed to have drifted in a gloomy direction. I tried to shift my focus to suppress the melancholy feeling.

My wandering gaze in the desolate tent stopped at one place.

It was the surcoat.

A newly acquired item, a trap item that only I, a homunculus with Mourner, Sacred Blood, and Blood Knight armor, could effectively use.

It was the kind of item that would normally be dismissed as useless as soon as it was obtained.

But I saw potential in such an item.

I guess the six people who ranked higher than me in the speedrun probably thought similarly. I lay there wondering if they had come here too, and if so, how far they had gone.

My body was comfortable, making me feel cozy, and that coziness must have made me fall asleep without realizing it.

When I suddenly opened my eyes to a cold breeze, a head was poking through the tent.

“You were sleeping soundly, so I didn’t wake you.”

Though she spoke in an emotionless tone as if stating some observation, I was beginning to understand that wasn’t actually the case.

We had been spending more time together. You’d have to be an idiot not to notice.

I met the eyes of the woman who had been contentedly watching me sleep.

Then the snow leopard’s ears perked up, and I noticed the reddish scarf around her neck.

It was my cloak. Was the hunt already over?

I got up and stretched.

“Want a snack?”

“…Sure.”

“Come out after stretching. It’s cold.”

I thought that as a homunculus I wouldn’t get sick anyway, but I wasn’t the kind of jerk who would say such things to someone who was concerned about me.

I stretched slowly but thoroughly and went outside. The sun was already gradually setting.

The sun, half-closed, sat on a crimson carpet stretching to the horizon.

Night was already approaching.

Outside the tent, flames the color of sunset were already flickering, suggesting a fire had been lit.

There were various traces around it.

From rendered fat gathered together and raw hides that had undergone basic preservation work, to meat hung for salting or drying after butchering was completed.

Among them, I glimpsed the large crossbow that had been set down. The Dead Man’s Fidgeting, a weapon slightly different from what I knew.

“How is it?”

“Good.”

“In detail?”

“Easy to shoot, can shoot quickly, can shoot what I want when I want. Quiet.”

Isla liked the large crossbow, Dead Man’s Fidgeting, that she had received as a reward.

It was a weapon that could use various types of ammunition, had a fast firing rate, and excellent penetration power.

And all of these aspects were great advantages for Isla, a hunter who mainly used slings.

She was good enough to bring back at least one prey every day.

The evidence was hanging on the tree. I stared at the large skeleton of a beast that had been collected to make glue.

It looked like a wild boar.

“Thank you.”

As I was looking at the bone fragments, I heard those words and felt the pleasant softness of a female body approaching.

I smiled slightly at Isla, who was hugging me with her cheek buried in my chest.

“Weren’t you doing this as thanks yesterday too?”

“It’s still not enough no matter how much I do.”

Even though I was already acting as a house husband, there was no need for her to thank me.

But Isla was adamantly providing skinship as thanks.

Whether it was offering her tail to hug when going to sleep, or putting effort into cooking to feed me delicious food.

It was comfortable, but I worried that someday I might take it for granted.

It might spoil me, you could say. I waited until Isla was satisfied, and only after she released the hug did I sit down.

I was reminded of my friend again.

The friend who said he wanted to become a house husband to a pretty woman and live an easy life.

Now that I had unintentionally fulfilled my friend’s wish, I wondered if he had fulfilled his wish too.

It was around the time I was chewing and swallowing meat that had been dried after being soaked in honey, along with tea made from herbs, honey, and fruits gathered from the forest.

“Want me to teach you hunting?”

Isla suggested.

“It would be good to know how.”

That wasn’t wrong. There was no harm in learning.

But beyond that, I could understand Isla’s intention. Like the constant hugging as thanks, Isla was trying to appeal to me.

It was clear. Having lived with my sister all my life, I was quite perceptive about women’s feelings.

But I didn’t want to refuse for that reason. Rather, I wasn’t sure if she would agree even if I prostrated myself and begged her to teach me, so it was better that she volunteered.

So I was about to give a positive answer.

When I felt something.

A subtle warmth, you could say. Something felt amidst the cold winter wind blowing in.

It was a presence. A trace that no breathing being could hide.

Isla and I made eye contact simultaneously and stood up at the same time.

Isla picked up the large crossbow and threw me a dagger she drew from her waist.

The hunting dagger I caught lightly was familiar.

I ignored the words “Komel’s Sense of Responsibility” appearing in the corner of my vision and twirled the dagger in my hand, gripping it in reverse.

There was something else I needed to focus on now.

I saw a newly formed branch below my reputation.

[Person of Interest to Blood Bags / Three Tribes

-You have repeatedly interfered with the Three Tribes’ events. It’s gotten to the point where some in the Three Tribes are discussing ways to deal with you. From now on, it will be difficult for you to sleep peacefully at night.]

A clear hint that they would send assassins. Finally, I thought.

It actually felt like they had left us in peace for too long until now. I prepared to use Mourning and took a stance.

The presence gradually approached. Finally, it revealed itself in the darkness that had now settled.

Thump, thump, thump, thud.

It was a middle-aged man who was almost naked.

His upper body was so hairy he could be mistaken for a bear-kin, and his lower body was covered in barbaric fur pants.

A huge axe was on his back, and his trained muscles were covered in scars.

A barbarian warrior. Too distinctive to be used as an assassin.

But barbarian warriors were beings to be wary of. I took a stance, and Isla aimed her crossbow.

The metal arm attached to the crossbow loaded it. In the silent loading, I anticipated the barbarian warrior’s charge and plotted a trajectory.

No matter how he moved, I would protect Isla and create an angle for her to shoot. As I was planning my movements with that premise.

Finally, the barbarian warrior moved.

But his movement far exceeded my expectations.

It even surpassed Isla’s expectations.

Thud!

The barbarian warrior didn’t charge, throw his weapon, or roar.

“Some food, please…”

He just collapsed on the ground with a growling stomach.

I blinked blankly at the completely unexpected sight.