Ch.95Twins (2)

“…Anyway.”

“Changing the subject? That’s cute.”

I pretended not to hear, but Selma didn’t seem to want to let it go.

It was already unsettling enough that she looked exactly like Isla.

“Forget that. If you’re going to talk, talk now.”

“You’re so impatient. You could relax since I’m going to tell you anyway.”

Selma smiled. If there was one difference from Isla, perhaps it was how clear her smile was.

I tried not to give this Selma the upper hand. After all, even if she looked exactly like Isla, this woman was a villain.

A murderer who ate people, who had even grabbed people without hesitation and thrown them at me during our fight.

A being who didn’t hesitate to harm the powerless.

In a game, I might have accepted her as a companion, but I’d abandoned such performance-oriented thinking since this world had become far too detailed to be just a game.

“Do you want something?”

I interpreted Selma’s stalling as having some other intention.

“Yes. Will you listen?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“Hmm, I would advise against listening to such requests,” the Black Knight interjected.

“It’s fine. I won’t ask for anything unreasonable.”

The Black Knight had shown some loose screws, but he was still a professional.

He had experience fighting enemies who had abandoned human ethics, like torturers and black mages.

They probably viewed Selma as such a being. And in reality, she wasn’t much different.

But still.

“It’s fine. If this person tries anything, you’ll all help me, and even if not, we’ll keep our guard up.”

“…Ah, you trust us! Of course! I’ll work hard not to let you down, sir!”

The Black Knight bowed respectfully. I forced a smile and looked at Selma.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s go outside first.”

Selma brushed back her long hair and smiled.

“I want to take a walk.”

Inwardly, I thought she was being quite dog-like.

*

“…Ah.”

As soon as we went outside, Isla was there to greet us.

Judging by the traces of her anxiously dragging her feet on the dirt ground, she had been waiting for us to come out for quite some time.

How could this Selma commit such atrocities when she had such a decent sister?

Having lived my whole life under a kind and wonderful sister who was merciful, gentle, and righteous, I couldn’t understand it.

It was a situation that made me sigh involuntarily.

“How did it go?”

Isla addressed me with an anxious look, apparently misinterpreting my sigh.

“Nothing yet. We’re just getting started.”

It was Selma who answered. Even their voices were so similar that if I closed my eyes, it would sound like there were two Islas.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

And to me, an authority on “expressionless cool beauty snow leopard language,” the contrasting emotions between the two were visible.

Selma was expecting something, while Isla was worried.

It was obvious they were thinking completely different things.

“So, now that we’re out for a walk…”

“Let’s walk for a bit. Big sister too.”

“Me too…?”

Isla nodded. In this situation, I couldn’t bring myself to go against Isla’s will and scold Selma.

Besides, spending time with Isla wasn’t a bad thing.

I sighed, slumped my shoulders, and walked, with Selma behind me and Isla moving between my side and Selma’s.

I could guess what she was thinking.

Since Selma had already said she wanted to steal me, Isla was probably watching cautiously in case Selma tried to flirt with me, even though she couldn’t help but keep an eye on her.

Sure enough, Selma dropped a comment that could be interpreted as provocative.

“What do you think, sister?”

Her gaze turned to me. Selma and Isla clearly understood each other’s characteristically brief and expressionless way of communicating.

Selma seemed to be asking what kind of person I was to Isla.

“Husband material.”

She answered without hesitation. It was actually embarrassing for me to hear, but that wasn’t what mattered to Selma and Isla.

“Do you still want to steal him?”

Isla asked seriously.

She probably thought that after being beaten once, such desires might have subsided.

Selma smiled. It was a sly smile.

“Yes.”

“…Ah.”

Isla’s expression changed. To an ordinary person, the change would be barely noticeable, but I could see it.

First, her tail drooped and fell limply to the ground.

Her ears flattened against her head, and the light in her eyes dimmed slightly.

That was a disappointed expression. In that state, she lowered her eyes and then looked at me.

It was my turn to step in.

“Sorry, but bitches aren’t my type.”

There are plenty of men who are suspiciously loved by bitches and secretly prefer them, but I was definitely not one of them.

Thanks to my childhood, I suppose.

I’ve lived my whole life with a sister who was so good that if she’d had enough power, she would have rightfully been called a saint.

As a result, my preference has always been for good people. I wasn’t attracted to unkind bastards; rather, I avoided them.

The only reason Selma occasionally caught my eye was because she looked exactly like Isla, not because I had any affection for Selma herself.

If Isla hadn’t been by my side, I would have killed her long ago.

“Although I like Isla, that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to a bitch who looks exactly like her.”

“That’s fine. It makes stealing you more satisfying.”

Did she not understand that there was no possibility?

When I made a slightly displeased face, an awkward silence fell.

Isla seemed relieved by my words but also wondered why her sister was acting this way, while Selma looked at her sister and me in turn and then grinned.

“Shall we continue our walk?”

“…Sure.”

Now Isla stayed by Selma’s side rather than mine. She knew she didn’t need to protect me.

Instead, she was looking after her sister, which made her a fine sister, if not quite at my own sister’s level.

In terms of ranking, I’d say she was a Grand Master-tier sister.

She might not be Challenger tier, but that spot is reserved for only one person, so it can’t be helped.

I walked while thinking about things that were important but didn’t need immediate attention.

“I see they brought them from the city.”

“Yes, it was easy to bring them because you made such a mess.”

The place we were walking through felt like some kind of underground cave.

However, it was well-maintained with cleared paths that weren’t uncomfortable to walk on, and there was plenty of light everywhere, so it wasn’t dangerous.

Rather than the eerie atmosphere typical of caves, there was a sense of wonder and comfort characteristic of nature.

It was actually quite comfortable. The possibility of encountering enemies here was almost non-existent.

This was a new coordinate discovered from the teleport room that the alchemist had named the “Transfer Room,” and the coordinate’s name was Sanctuary.

I looked at the blue lake that filled the center of the cave.

Having checked it myself by entering the water, it was a peaceful lake full of safe creatures that could live in freshwater.

And with hot springs bubbling up not far from here, it lived up to its name as a sanctuary.

Since the space was large, I had given part of it to the mixed-blood vampires.

Some of them waved to me while fishing. They seemed to have caught quite a lot of fish despite having learned from Melody’s subordinate, a former sailor, only recently.

Not far away was a farm growing mushrooms, and the huge tower we had found immediately upon arriving at this transfer point was where Ortemilia stayed and continued her research.

There was no better place to accommodate an unspecified number of people.

I walked along the well-paved cave path and kicked a stone at my feet into the lake.

As ripples spread across the lake, I glimpsed what looked like a few carp beneath the surface. They fed on the seaweed-like plants growing at the bottom of the lake.

They didn’t taste particularly good, though.

“This looks like a nice place to live. Would it be suitable for a prison too?”

“With anti-magic shackles, anything’s possible. Right now, you’re weaker than those people.”

My finger pointed toward the vampires.

More precisely, they were those who should properly be called mixed-blood vampires, and unlike before, they were now thrusting spears and forming ranks with visibly better complexions.

And in front of them was…

“…Hm? Ah, Ruwellin!”

It was Lorian, wearing a pure white sleeveless dress, teaching the mixed-blood refugees how to handle weapons.

She approached with light steps.

“You’ve even brought the prisoner out. How’s it going? Is the conversation going well?”

“More or less. She threw a tantrum saying she wouldn’t talk unless we took a walk, so I brought her out.”

“That’s harsh.”

Though her words suggested criticism, she didn’t seem to be blaming me. Rather, Selma appeared quite philosophical about it.

“So those people are my guards too, I suppose?”

“That’s right. Although my blood wasn’t enough to evolve most of them into vampires… they should be enough to subdue you if necessary.”

Mixed-blood vampires are cursed beings.

That’s the general perception, but there was a secret to it.

According to Lorian, mixed-blood vampires could become true vampires if they received blood from a higher vampire.

Of course, they would maintain their gender from their mixed-blood state, and unlike the bloodline, their potential wasn’t that great, but…

At least they wouldn’t have to worry about dying in the sun or being consumed by madness at any moment.

It was fortunate that taking in these homeless people wasn’t just a loss. Otherwise, they would have lived uncomfortably, always watching their step.

Having known what it was like to live as a burden, I could understand them. I could also understand why many of them waved at me.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

While I was thinking, Selma addressed Lorian.

Was she testing whether Lorian was also a guard? As I pondered this, Selma’s eyes moved from Lorian to me.

Lorian was standing very close to me.

Ah, come to think of it, she’s close again.

As I was inwardly considering pushing her away, I heard a voice.

“Is she your concubine?”

I flinched, frozen in the middle of my attempt to push her away.

My brain momentarily froze at the unexpected question.

Before I could stop her or demand what she was talking about, she continued.

“I wasn’t with the clan for long, but they seem to view your defection that way.”

She even brought up what was apparently accepted as fact in the clan, so I glanced at Lorian.

Could I block a sudden sword strike from an enraged Lorian?

If the attack were directed at me, I could block it with my “ghost-possessed intuition,” but that didn’t apply to surprise attacks aimed at others.

So I watched Lorian warily, and…

“Yes, that’s right. I am Ruwellin’s concubine.”

Seeing Lorian declare this proudly, my expression hardened.

Wait, if she’s a concubine, why “beloved concubine”?

“Hey.”

“Oh, are you surprised I’m not embarrassed?”

Lorian laughed with a “hmph” and said with her hands on her hips:

“After thinking it over and listening to Lady Ortemilia, I realized.”

Placing one hand on her hip and raising the other, Lorian wiggled her prosthetic hand as she spoke.

“If I become Ruwellin’s concubine, it’s clearly for the true revival of the bloodline… so there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

It was a headache-inducing statement.

“Rather, I should be proud. Achievements and greatness are not meant to be hidden but displayed, so I’ve decided to accept my position proudly and honorably.”

Lorian smiled boldly, standing tall and proud.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before sighing.

It was already my third sigh of the day. My head hurt. I massaged my temples, gently pushed away Lorian’s face as she tried to get closer, and walked on.

“We’ll continue this conversation later!”

I deliberately ignored her confident voice as I walked away.

I also ignored Isla saying “It’s fine if she’s a concubine” as she followed, and just kept walking.

Only when I thought we had moved far enough away from Lorian and the others did I speak.

“I guess that’s enough of an excuse.”

“You noticed?”

Selma had wanted to take a walk. With her sister.

Thinking about it, it was a rather strange request. It was easy to see that she didn’t simply want to walk with me or with Isla.

Rather, I interpreted it as meaning we needed to get far away where no one could hear us. It was more of a guess, but…

Fortunately, it seemed I was right. I glanced at Isla, who was looking at her sister with a serious expression.

Selma spoke under that gaze:

“Just hearing about ‘Mother’ is dangerous. It’s similar to catching a disease.”

A mental effect with contagious properties? Then the reason she wanted her sister to come along…

“I suppose Isla has heard about it before.”

“Yes, everyone who left the tribe and refused to join the three clans experienced it.”

So that’s how it was. I looked briefly at Isla and then at Selma, who smiled faintly from a few steps away.

The fact that we had come all this way, leaving behind the Black Knights who could have accompanied us, suggested that even the Black Knight Order could be infected.

In other words, it wasn’t magic.

Perhaps a power that didn’t exist in the game.

A completely unknown power, just like the source of the Mourner’s power.

Just thinking about Life Plunder, which Mourners gain at level 20, was enough to make me rub my temples.

“You said this ‘Mother’ doesn’t want anything.”

“It’s unclear whether she’s truly female, or even a person… but yes.”

A being that grants powerful abilities without wanting anything in return, without asking for payment.

Again, it felt closer to a demon than a god. Not the typical demon that takes payment, but rather the kind that causes chaos in the world through its actions.

It was similar to the behavior pattern of what would typically appear as demon race characters in games.

If there was one thing such a being could be said to want…

It was me.

What on earth did it want?

My first question was aimed at resolving this doubt.

“Netel, what is Mother’s goal? Why does she want me?”

Even the most irrational beast has reasons for its actions.

It attacks because its territory is invaded, it hunts humans because it’s hungry.

It continues to hunt people after tasting human flesh and finding them to be easy prey.

Even seemingly irrational man-eating beasts have such reasons.

But with the being called “Mother,” no such reason was apparent.

No matter how much I pondered and worried, how could I possibly know?

The only way to get an answer was to ask someone close to such a being.

I met Selma’s eyes.

With subtle fear, anxiety, and complex emotions, she slowly opened her mouth and said:

“You are a vessel.”

Selma’s hand rose, still in its iron shackles, pointing toward me.

Following the clanking sound, her words were much clearer than what she had said before:

“A vessel for Mother to be born into this land.”