Chapter 113: The Price of Resurrection (2)

[113] 17. The Price of Resurrection (2)

To survive is to be left behind.
And to be left behind is, almost always, a miserable thing.

The morning sunlight flows like rainwater over the tombstones.

Twelve rectangular tombstones, all identical in size.
However, nothing is inscribed on the tombstones.
Only the mourner’s gloomy face is reflected in their smooth surfaces.

That was Lady Irene’s idea.

When names are inscribed on tombstones, each becomes an individual sorrow. Memories you made with that person come to mind, and those memories are transformed into pain.

Every time you visit this graveyard, you have to experience twelve distinct sorrows.

But if you erase the names, that sorrow becomes one giant grief. Instead of individual memories, you can only recall one tragedy.

It becomes a little more bearable.

…Of course, the best thing would be to not visit the graveyard at all…

But that was as impossible as the sun falling from the sky.

Betty Ailleyde gently stroked a tombstone.

“Betty.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Betty turned to face Irene.

“Did you finish your work, Miss?”

Irene took off the blood-stained robe she had been wearing. A deep fatigue was etched in her eyes.

“It’s about time for the main story to begin. We need to move quickly.”

“…Whose turn was it today?”

“The man who was originally supposed to be the hero party’s porter.”

Betty approached and took the robe from her. As Irene wiped the blood away with a cleaning magic tool, she continued.

“Now, once I take his place, the groundwork will be almost complete. It’s a shame that Rosalia didn’t become Emperor, but… well, as long as we can build the towers, it doesn’t really matter.”

“…Then there’s only four years left.”

“If things go as planned, yes.”

Irene approached the tombstones. She closed her eyes as she ran her white hand over the smooth surface.

“We’ll be able to see the ending.”

Ending.
Every time Miss Irene said that word, it felt like a small part of her was crumbling away.

Betty swallowed down the ache in her chest and approached Irene.

“Miss.”

“…First, I need to send a letter to the cultists. They’ll also need time to prepare. I’ve already secured Alain’s pocket watch…”

“Um, may I go to Essier for a bit today?”

Irene’s body trembled slightly.
Her eyes, as empty as the clear sky, turned to Betty.

“Why?”

But the question was immediately withdrawn.

“No, that was a stupid question.”

Irene clutched her head as if she had a headache. She grabbed Betty’s hand and said,

“Betty, it wasn’t your fault that Rosalia didn’t become Emperor.”

Betty couldn’t help but frown. It wasn’t because she disagreed with Irene.

It was because of her guilty conscience.

Betty had lied to Irene.

Betty didn’t *fail* to make Rosalia Emperor.

She simply didn’t *do* it.

“Things… just got a bit complicated back then. It was my fault, too. I was so busy that I left everything to you.”

Irene gave her a gentle smile.

“And who knew? That after all that fighting, Rosalia would turn into a wreck and hole herself up in the Essier Mountains?”

Lady Irene didn’t know.

Rosalia didn’t become a wreck.
She’s simply guarding Rem’s body.

“Even now, when I think about it, it’s strange. There’s no way fate could’ve been twisted that much unless some huge variable intervened…”

Lady Irene didn’t know.

That a variable named Rem was turning everything upside down. That he’s become a scapegoat, by taking all the misfortune upon himself, he was twisting fate.

All because Betty deceived her so.

[_____]

Betty placed her hand on her chest, where a strange voice was echoing.

“It’s not like that, Miss. I just have some loose ends to tie up.”

“…Really?”

Betty nodded with a bright smile.

“When have I ever lied to you, Miss?”

While her insides festered.
And while making excuses to herself.

That it was all for Lady Irene’s sake.

***

Mr. Stein had been a coachman for 14 years.

Even before becoming an adult, he had been driving his father’s carriage, and over the years, he had carried hundreds of passengers.

And that long career had given him an important realization.

‘Luggage speaks volumes about its owner.’

For example, let’s say a person gets into his carriage, carrying a box full of glass vials. A colorless liquid sloshes inside the vials.

With just that, Stein could tell that the person was either a mage or a conman. And if he also considered the person’s attire, then he could narrow the possibilities down to one.

Of course, that’s just common sense, and anyone could make such an observation. But it wasn’t something everyone could apply to real life. It’s this realization that had allowed Stein to avoid dangerous passengers over the past 14 years.

Due to this realization…

Carefully sealed glass vials, elongated boxes, excessive attempts to cover their faces.

Murderers gave themselves away through their luggage.

Stein could immediately judge whether it was safe to take them on board just by glancing at their luggage.

…Except for this passenger.

First of all, the luggage itself was peculiar to say the least.

A few dirty medals, five or six chunks of strange minerals, a few old books, and one giant magic tool that seemed ancient.

When he first saw the luggage, Stein thought the passenger was some kind of relic scholar. You know, those eccentric mages from the Magic Tower who collect antiques.

But the moment he saw the passenger’s appearance, that assumption was completely discarded.

There was no way a scholar would be carrying a giant axe on their back.

And their strangeness didn’t end there.

Their face was completely covered with black bandages, so thoroughly wrapped that not a single strand of hair was visible.

Only their ice-like eyes could be seen.

“…To Essier.”

Even their voice was extremely hoarse.

If it had been the usual Stein, he would have never let such a person into his carriage. Their appearance clearly suggested that they had a story, and ‘a story’ was often a euphemism for ‘trouble.’

However, Stein couldn’t hastily shake his head due to one fact.

“…Shouldn’t you go to a priest first?”

“It’s nothing…”

Drops of blood fell from the hem of their pants. The clearest evidence that their words were lies.

“At least, you should get some basic treatment…”

“This is… more important…”

With trembling hands, they pulled out a money pouch from their chest and threw it. The pouch that fell to the ground made a heavy sound.

“To Essier.”

Stein met their burning sky-blue eyes. It was a flame closer to desperation than will.

It’s always hard to refuse someone’s desperation.

“Get in.”

Stein pointed to the carriage with his thumb. Then, furrowing his brow, he added,

“And try to clean up the blood you spill as much as possible.”

The passenger, Feya, finally felt a sense of relief and nodded.

***

Six months had passed since Rem’s death.

And during those six months, Rosalia’s life had been incredibly simple.

When she woke up in the morning, the first thing she did was go to Rem.
No, there was no need to go to him.

Because, in most cases, Rosalia would already be sleeping next to Rem’s corpse.

Thanks to the magic tool that woman named Betty had provided, Rem’s body was intact. At first glance, it looked like he was merely sleeping.

But since dust still accumulates, Rosalia had to wipe Rem’s body. She would soak a towel in melted snow and carefully wipe him down.

By the time she finished, it was usually noon. But she wasn’t particularly hungry. Actually, she hadn’t felt hungry since that day.

But even so, she would force herself to swallow some old jerky.

After all, whatever the reason, her role was to guard Rem’s body. If she doesn’t eat, she can’t wield a sword.

After finishing her simple meal, Rosalia invariably starts crying. It’s not the kind of crying with wails or screams.

She would simply sit, leaning against the wall, and let her tears flow. At first, it had been because of painful memories, but now, she just cried.

Depression had hardened into a habit.

Rosalia would look at Rem and cry until night fell. And then, exhausted, she would fall asleep.

And when the next morning came, she’d wipe Rem’s body… force herself to swallow food while fighting back the nausea… cry… and cry again…

Her days, as if they were mass-produced from the same mold.

But today was different.

First of all, Rosalia had been awake since dawn.

Despite the biting wind of the Essier Mountains, she came out of the cabin and waited for someone.

Because of a single letter that had arrived the previous morning.

[Preparations complete.]

It was a short sentence, more like a message than a letter. But the ripples it created were far from short.

The feeling of her insides turning upside down as phrases like ‘finally’ or ‘please’ looped through her mind.

Rosalia waited for ‘her,’ like a person dying of thirst.

And with the first light of dawn, ‘she’ appeared.

A woman pulling a cart full of strange items. As she drew closer, her appearance became clearer.

Black bandages covering her entire face.
Numerous scars all over her body.
And an unstable gait that looks like she might fall at any moment.

The closer she got, the clearer it became.

How broken ‘she,’ Feya, had become.

And ironically, at that moment, Feya, too, was looking at Rosalia and thinking the same thing.

Red hair, tangled and reaching down to her calves.
Dark circles that stretched down to her cheeks, proof of countless sleepless nights.
And a body so thin it looks like it might crumble at any moment.

Two equally broken women finally stand face to face like a decalcomania.

Naturally, no greetings or pleasantries were exchanged.

The two, whose broken appearances resembled each other, also resembled each other in their guilt and hostility, as if they were real sisters.

To themselves, they were Rem’s indirect murderers,
And to each other, they were the ones who failed to protect Rem.

They know it’s not logical. They also know that the person who should really be held responsible is already dead. They also know that they both worked hard for Rem’s resurrection.

But at the same time, they couldn’t suppress the urge to strangle each other to death.

“…”

“…”

In other words, the silence was inevitable.

The two women glared at each other in silence before simultaneously averting their gazes.

“…Where’s Betty?”

Feya finally opened her mouth with a tired voice. Rosalia shook her head.

“She contacted me saying that she’d be arriving soon. Any minute now…”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Suddenly, the shadow of a tree lengthened, and from it emerged a frivolous face.

“…It is done.”

No, a face that seemed slightly terrified.

Betty showed a stiff smile with a pale face.

“Shall we begin? The ritual to resurrect Rem.”

***

Despite being called a ritual, it wasn’t grand at all. In fact, it looked rather crude to Rosalia’s eyes.

Inside a circular shape drawn with tree branches, the items Feya had collected were piled up in a heap.

Rosalia had wanted to believe there was some kind of order or rule to it, but she couldn’t. Because Betty had simply dumped the items into the circle, box and all.

“…So, what’s supposed to happen now?”

It was Feya who spoke, her face still covered with bandages. Betty, who was lighting candles around the circle, looked up.

“Does that matter?”

“What?”

“As long as Rem comes back to life, that’s all that matters. I don’t think there’s any need for me to explain what I’m doing.”

It sounded like she was picking a fight.
But Feya couldn’t bring herself to get annoyed.

Firstly, because Betty’s words were true.
And secondly, because, out of the three of them, Betty seemed to be the least sane right now.

“Goddess… You’ll keep your promise, right…? You really… really will, right…?”

Betty mumbles to herself with an expression like she’s about to cry. And yet, her trembling hands expertly continued with the ritual preparations.

With a skill as if she had been preparing for this ritual for decades.

Finally, when the ritual preparations seemed to be complete, Betty stood up. She looked at Rosalia with tense eyes and said,

“Please… take out the Dragon King’s Essence.”

Rosalia did as she was told. In her calloused hand, the relic containing Rem’s heart was held.

A red jewel that seemed to emit its own light.

Betty nodded and knelt down in front of the circle. Clasping her hands together, she continued.

“From now on, please repeat the wish exactly as I say.”

A gulp.
Her trembling voice followed.

“According to the ancient oath…”

Rosalia repeated after her.

“According to the ancient oath…”

The Dragon King’s Essence glowed red.

“I beseech thee, O unjustly slain Dragon King,”

[I beseech thee, O unjustly slain Dragon King,]

“Grant my wish.”

[Grant my wish.]

“Melt this girl’s soul.”

[Melt this girl’s soul.]

“And may what lies within her soul”

[And may what lies within her soul]

“Find freedom.”

[Find free…]

Rosalia, who had been repeating the words, suddenly stopped. It was due to a sudden sense of foreboding made her do so.

The inexplicable premonition stabbed her heart like a thorn.

A baseless, but strong premonition that this wish might lead to a terrible disaster.

“Rosalia?”

Betty turns to look at Rosalia. Betty’s face, tinged red by the light emitted from the Dragon King’s Essence, looked as if it was covered in blood.

Words wouldn’t come out, as if her throat was blocked.

“I…”

“Didn’t you have someone you wanted to save?”

Betty’s eyes, which had been trembling with fear until just now, become firm. Betty spoke with furrowed brows.

“Was that person, Rem, really that insignificant to you?”

Those words stabbed Rosalia’s heart like a knife. And the stabbed heart spewed out the last phrase of the wish instead of a fountain of blood.

Rosalia muttered as if in a trance.

[Find freedom.]

And there was light.

“…”

The light quickly subsided. The outlines of objects began to come back into focus in Rosalia’s vision.

And Rosalia noticed two things.

One was that the items inside the circle were gone. As if they had evaporated, all those numerous objects had vanished.

And the other was Betty.

“Haa… Ahh…”

Betty gasps for breath, hugging herself. She muttered while messily shedding tears.

“This… This… This isn’t what I wanted… Goddess…”

Rosalia approached Betty, feeling perplexed.

“Betty, what’s going on here? The ritual…”

“This isn’t what I wanted!!”

Betty’s scream echoed throughout the mountains. She started banging her head on the ground, screaming repeatedly.

“Give it back! Give it baAAACk!! NO!! wE mAdE A PRoMisE!! YoU prOmISed mE!! gIVe iT baCK!! GIVe IT BaAAAAacK!!”

At her ferocious movements, Rosalia instinctively took a step back. But Betty, oblivious to her reaction, continued to bang her head on the ground.

Until her forehead split open and blood flowed.

“…!”

Then suddenly, she turned to look at Rosalia. With tears and blood flowing together, she pleaded in a desperate voice.

“Help m…!”

*SNAP-*

Betty’s neck snapped.

It was like watching a textbook illustration of how human bones break, depicted in several gruesome diagrams.

Betty’s arms twisted grotesquely, her legs tangled, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

And in the next moment.

“Haa…”

Betty suddenly got up with a serene expression.

At that moment, Rosalia felt a chill run down her spine. Her instincts, inherent in all humans, sounded an alarm.

That thing, though wearing a human form, was not human. And though it had a human heart, there was no goodness within it.

A being that seemed to have existed since time immemorial.

It spoke as it felt its own body.

“Finally… A voice… Arms… Legs…”

Its hand, which had been tracing its body from its neck down, stopped at its ankle. It looked up at the sky with an ecstatic expression, cupping its cheeks.

“Freedom is indeed exhilarating… How I longed for this, how desperately I wished, how my heart ached…”

“You…”

It looked down at Feya.

Feya was pointing her axe at it. However, the trembling tip of the axe fully reflected her fear.

“…Who are you? What did you just…”

“If you cut off my head with that axe, you won’t be able to revive Rem, you are aware?”

Feya’s expression goes blank. So does Rosalia’s.

“That was the condition, wasn’t it. To bring Rem back to life.”

The being, no, the thing that had taken over ‘Betty Ailleyde’, grinned.

“So, let’s stop with the unnecessary suspicion and quickly go revive him, shall we?”

***

When Rem opened his eyes, everything was pure white.

A world of monotonous white that made him lose even his sense of distance and direction.

Rem sat up, feeling both bewilderment and confusion.

“What the hell is…”

“Awake?”

Rem’s gaze quickly turned to the source of the voice.

A man was standing there, his hands casually tucked into his pants pockets, looking at Rem.

He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties.
He had such an ordinary face that if you didn’t keep looking at it for a moment, you might forget what it looked like.

“What is this…”

The man in the suit smiled faintly and nodded.

“It’s boring on the way, so why don’t you tell me your story.”

(TL Note: Explained on the Tl Afterword)

Rem stared blankly at him for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and snapped,

“That’s plagiarism.”