Ch.97Twins (4)

“A human.”

Even then, I couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.

I just stood there, thinking how utterly surreal this whole situation was.

My mind was blank.

I felt awful.

It was hard to even guess why.

Whether it was because someone I had spoken with had turned into such a horrific sight, or because of how sad and shocked Isla looked.

Or perhaps… because of the fact that it could have happened to me.

The first thought that came to mind was how terribly bad I felt.

The absurd part was that I felt guilty for being concerned about my own well-being—a thought that was both reasonable and self-preserving.

I didn’t think I was such an emotional person.

I stared at the tree that no longer showed any trace of its former self, let alone the ability to speak.

The tree that was once human still seemed to pulse within my gaze.

“Are you listening?”

“…Yeah, continue.”

“Really? You don’t look well.”

Only Ortemilia could make such a definitive assessment.

The greatest magic expert I knew. I had called her to investigate, yet here she was, concerned about me.

A faint worry lingered beneath the dragon’s golden eyes.

“Since when did you care so much?”

Only after the words left my mouth did I realize how sharp they were. I regretted it immediately, but Ortemilia didn’t even give me a chance to apologize for my slip.

“You’re being irritable. Your expression isn’t good either. It’s an appropriate reaction to such a sight, but it doesn’t seem to be just that.”

Ortemilia’s gaze fixed steadily on me. I found her stare so uncomfortable that I unconsciously turned my head away.

They say a guilty conscience needs no accuser.

“What happened?”

“…”

Honestly, I hesitated. She seemed like she would listen well if I confided in her, and this was too difficult a problem to bear alone.

“You are my masterpiece. You are proof of my success, and the reason I believe I can survive even without my clan. So I would like you to tell me, for my sake if nothing else.”

It was easy to tell that statement itself was a lie.

Ortemilia was willing to tell an obvious lie just to make it easier for me to speak.

So I finally opened up, and she listened to what I had to say while examining the tree.

She poked the skeletal parts with her little finger and pressed the textures of muscle and flesh with something like a small stick.

The tree barely responded to external stimuli.

“My goodness. I knew this was the prisoner when I first arrived, but to think such a thing was possible…”

Ortemilia looked at the tree with a bitter expression, then turned her gaze to me.

“First of all, you need not worry about this happening to you. If you’ve been concerned about that possibility, there’s no need to worry.”

“No, I…”

“Does it pain you mentally just to have had such thoughts?”

Ortemilia straightened her back with a groan and sighed.

“What luxury. Most wouldn’t even have the capacity to feel self-loathing in this situation.”

With the appearance of a girl at least two heads shorter than me, Ortemilia finally showed her true nature as a long-lived necromancer.

“I created you. You are the essence of my technique, my masterpiece.”

It wasn’t empty flattery. She was rather stating how excellent her own craftsmanship was.

But this wasn’t simply self-praise.

“Initially, I created you as a vessel to recreate ‘Father.’ Among all the test subjects, you had the highest reproduction rate. That’s why you remained in my memory.”

The test subject with the highest reproduction rate.

Yet a masterpiece that was stolen and hidden. Ortemilia gazed at me with all sorts of sentiments.

“Originally, you would have been educated as a Father candidate… and cherished by the Three Clans, used in experiments to recreate Father. If successful, you would have already been designated as Father and ascended to the seat of the Three Clans.”

A future I never reached. When I met Ortemilia’s eyes, she gave me a slight smile.

“But now, here you are. I find even this path of yours amusing.”

“…Amusing?”

Ortemilia nodded. Her jade-colored tail moved from side to side before wrapping around my finger.

“In the end, aren’t you walking the path of ‘Father’? Beyond even my expectations… fulfilling my goals in your own way.”

All members of the Three Clans desire Father’s restoration. At least those who can be called pure members of the Three Clans do.

She was no exception.

“One could call it destiny.”

Destiny. I finally realized why she was saying such things.

She was telling me that destiny would protect me, that I would be fine until I fulfilled my destiny.

It was comfort that didn’t reach me, someone who doesn’t believe in things like destiny, but the fact that someone as deranged as her was trying to comfort me was consoling in itself.

And I realized how serious I must have looked.

If I was this affected, how must Isla be feeling? I should go find her.

As I was thinking, Ortemilia’s hand patted my cheek and withdrew.

She had to stand on her tiptoes, which diminished the effect, but I couldn’t care about such things.

“Well, are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Honestly, a little.”

“Then are you ready to hear the second finding?”

Ortemilia erased the smile she had been wearing and let out a deep sigh.

“That thing is still alive.”

I flinched at her words.

I hadn’t thought it would be alive.

Even though the tree was still pulsating, and the heart-like fruit was still writhing and sending blood throughout the tree.

It was easier on my mind to think that it was dead. Seeing my expression darken, Ortemilia tapped my stomach with her tail.

“But it’s likely that even it doesn’t know it’s alive.”

“…What do you mean?”

“It has no consciousness. It doesn’t respond to external stimuli.”

Electricity crackled from Ortemilia’s raised index finger.

Being a living thing, it would naturally show some reaction when touched by that.

Even if it were close to a plant, the same would apply. With Ortemilia being such an excellent mage, any internal response to external stimuli would inevitably be detected.

So I interpreted Ortemilia’s words like this:

It’s alive but also dead at the same time.

Or more precisely, as Ortemilia would put it:

“The body lives, but the soul is dead.”

My gaze turned to Ortemilia, and she sighed.

“It can no longer be called Selma. It would be more merciful to kill it.”

I mulled over those words inwardly.

Deliberately ignoring the future that might have been mine.

*

After leaving the cave and returning to the transfer room of the nest.

I found myself amidst the darkness that had fallen after sunset.

It was a quiet time, starting from the transfer room.

The training room one floor above was also quiet, and when I peeked outside, the campsite set up at the temple was enveloped in silence with only the campfire burning quietly.

I slowly climbed the stairs from the transfer room.

Eventually, I reached the garden.

Still quiet, with only faint warmth and light filling the surroundings.

I opened the door to my room, where I had already sought sleep many times before.

My room was larger than the others.

Of course, it was natural since it was designed for two people.

A room with the sky full of stars above, and a glass ceiling below it.

A room filled with a sense of openness and warmth, furnished with pieces carved and made by Uncle Mourner himself.

There was a table, chairs, and a bed.

A bed covered with animal hides that Isla had hunted herself.

I saw Isla curled up on it.

Eyes closed, body curled, with animal hide serving as a blanket.

But she was trembling as if cold. The darkness under her tightly closed eyes showed she had been crying.

I looked at Isla like that and sat on the bed.

At my presence, her steady breathing quieted.

Her eyes opened slightly, and she looked at me with reddened eyes.

Isla stared at me silently for a while.

“Hello.”

“…Hi.”

At least she answered when I spoke to her. I tried to gauge her mood.

It was similar to what I had experienced.

When my sister first disappeared.

When I was dragged into this world without knowing it, thinking my sister had left me.

It must be similar to that time.

I slowly took my eyes off Isla and looked at the sky.

How was I when my sister first disappeared?

Did I refuse to believe she was gone?

I just thought something had happened and she had temporarily left, that she would come back soon to apologize and nag me about whether I had eaten well.

I only realized she wouldn’t return as that time gradually lengthened.

What happened after that?

I remember distributing flyers everywhere.

Friends helped, but only for a while. I was a person with dignity, and I knew well that I had to handle my own affairs.

And I recalled when I stopped doing even that.

When I knew my sister wouldn’t return.

When I tried my best to trace the remnants, the footprints my sister had left behind.

When I first played Grimm Darker.

The memory of immersing myself as if filling an empty space.

It was a past that didn’t even bring a smile. If I had played Grimm Darker instead of distributing flyers, could I have met my sister earlier?

What if I had chosen a different race?

If I had created a character that showed more of my own traces, could I have revealed myself as her brother without any hesitation?

There was no point in regret. As my thoughts deepened, I felt warmth behind my back.

“Did you come to comfort me?”

“No.”

In this situation, comfort had no meaning.

Comfort wouldn’t make her feel better; it would only make her feel more miserable.

“I came to be with you.”

I came to give Isla what I needed back then.

Someone to be with me, to reduce the pain.

“Hold me.”

Isla knew this and pulled me toward her. She tugged at my clothes and desperately pulled me into the blanket.

I didn’t resist her touch. I lay down beside her as if it were the most natural thing.

Our faces were close.

A face with tear stains. A face that reminded me of someone who had turned into a tree.

The only difference might be that her face was filled with sadness.

I stroked the white hair that buried itself in my chest.

Feeling the softness of her hair dispersing in my hand, I tried to understand the sadness beneath Isla’s warm body temperature.

Realizing that while I had recovered what I lost, Isla had not, and knowing that I could never truly understand her.

I simply placed my hand on her spine and embraced her warmly.

Then Isla, with her face buried in my chest, began to shake her shoulders.

I became a place for her to lean on, to help her calm down.

Isla suffered in my willingly offered embrace.

Regretting, longing, and in pain, she wrapped her arms around my waist to my spine and held me tight.

She clung to me as if depending on the warmth, body heat, and the heartbeat that had started beating again after becoming immortal.

Until she could accept all those wounds.

All I could do was stroke her delicate spine and caress her head.

I acted faithfully to my role while remaining quiet.

Letting the silence soothe her.

I responded to her embracing hands by embracing her back, accepting her body heat leaning against me and Isla’s pleasant scent while transmitting my own body heat.

Entangled on the bed, Isla finally raised her head after a long time.

Still expressionless, but with eyes full of sadness.

She was still beautiful. The arms that had been wrapped around my waist now encircled my neck.

Our faces were getting closer.

Her eyes trembled and closed, and her pale but glossy lips parted slightly.

It was my first time. But that fact didn’t make me hesitate.

Everyone has their first time, and it seemed the same for Isla.

I closed my eyes and comforted her.

Through our touching lips, I felt Isla’s breath.

A breath desperate to erase sadness. She strived to cover her sorrow with excitement, elation, and affection.

I answered her breath by pressing my lips against hers, and it felt as if our body temperatures were intermingling.

My head was blank. The scene I had witnessed in the morning was gradually pushed back.

It wouldn’t be pushed away forever or disappear forever, but.

Right now, it felt as if only Isla and I existed in the world.

As I tilted my face, the direction of our breath changed. The sensation of our touching lips also changed.

It was worth exploring. Isla and I rubbed our lips together, pressed them together, and crossed them lightly, understanding each other’s inner feelings.

It felt eternally long, but eventually, the end approached. As Isla pulled her face away with rough breaths, saliva stretched between us like a bridge.

As I stared at it blankly, Isla turned her reddened face toward me.

Many emotions could be felt in that expression.

Countless emotions, too numerous to read.

But the one at the very top was clearly visible.

Isla craved more than what we had just done.

Seeking to fill the emptiness, to find something suitable to fill the void.

Trying to forget the pain, even if just for a moment.

Just like using alcohol to forget pain.

I decided to willingly become her wine.