Chapter 72: When Roses Were Sweet (2)

[72] 10. When Roses Were Sweet (2)

Summer is a season when colors deepen.

It’s a season when everything in the world seems to have been soaked in water, making the colors more vibrant. And on top of that, the bright sun makes everything stand out even more.

That’s why summer is also the season furthest from reality.

Because things that are too vivid seem like a fantasy.

…Well, even without summer, this situation was already surreal.

Pulling down my straw hat, I asked,

“Where are we?”

“Don’t rush me, you mainland human. You’re just hitching a ride.”

The answer came from the driver’s seat, and I grumbled.

“My name isn’t ‘mainland human’, it’s Rem. R-E-M. It’s not even a hard name to pronounce, why do you keep calling me that?”

The man I’d met on the prairie, Tan, chuckled and replied.

“Because it’s funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

Tan didn’t answer. He just laughed louder, just like he always did whenever he heard my name.

I gave up on trying to get an answer out of him and asked again,

“Anyway, so, where are we?”

“You’ll be seeing the city soon. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we arrive.”

So, we’re finally seeing the city now? I groaned inwardly at the slow pace. However, as he had said, I was just hitching a ride.

I had no choice but to lean back against the pile of leather, close my eyes, and try to get some sleep.

However, as expected, sleep didn’t come.

My mind was a swirling mess of thoughts.

A week had passed since I woke up in that pit.

I heard a lot from Tan about ‘this world,’ and the more I heard, the more confused I became.

‘This world’ was both similar and different from the one I knew. More accurately, it wasn’t that different from the one I knew… until five years ago.

The hero had chopped off the Demon King’s head, the emperor was Nicolai, and the continent was peaceful.

But, five years ago, starting in Nicolai year 64, history diverged.

Nicolai had died from an illness, and Rosalia had become the emperor. And then the Derins in the east, who had been quiet, suddenly waged war against the empire.

As if someone had intervened and changed history five years ago.

“Alain’s pocket watch…”

I unconsciously frowned, mumbling to myself.

But that’s impossible.

Didn’t Parsley herself tell me, the one who actually used the watch?

Time travel is impossible.

You simply move to a parallel world where the past has been copied.

I had even confirmed it myself while chasing after Parsley.

So, is this a parallel world?

But how?

Traveling between worlds is no easy task. Even Parsley had needed Alain’s pocket watch.

Meaning, it’s not something that could’ve happened overnight. It’s definitely not something you could do without any preparation.

And on top of that, the emperor’s name being Rosalia?

It couldn’t possibly be the Captain, but I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anxiety.

The more I thought about it, the more my head throbbed.

I let out a sigh, pushing those thoughts away.

First, let’s go to the Magic Tower and meet Parsley. She’s been researching this kind of thing for years. She might have some clues.

Or at least, we can brainstorm together.

“I see the city.”

I sat up at Tan’s words. And sure enough, I could see the city, now that the forest blocking my view had cleared.

Drivian, the city near the Magic Tower.

It was famous for the giant statue of a white horse in front of its main gate.

…At least that’s how I remember it.

My face twisted as I saw Drivian.

“Just what the hell is *that*…?”

The spot in front of the main gate where the giant white horse statue should be…

… was replaced by a majestic statue of a man.

Well, that much was possible. Five years is enough time for a statue to crumble and be replaced.

The problem was that the appearance of the statue was all too familiar.

It was still too far away for me to see his face, but I didn’t even need to.

The mechanical devices that replaced both his arms and legs were something I couldn’t miss.

I unconsciously looked down at my prosthetics.

“That’s Martyr Rem.”

I looked at Tan, sitting in the driver’s seat, dumbfounded. He grinned and said,

“Now do you understand why I laughed every time I heard your name? To claim the name of a hero who saved the Emperor and died. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

***

I headed straight for the library as soon as I parted ways with Tan at the city gate.

I needed to find information on this ‘Martyr Rem’ and ‘Emperor Rosalia’ hat Tan had mentioned.

I needed to confirm that it wasn’t about the Captain and me.

But as soon as I entered the city, I froze like a stone.

“You get that new prosthetic hand recently?”

“Yeah, I got it from the Marianne Workshop. Not bad, huh?”

“As expected, no one can beat Marianne Workshop when it comes to prosthetic technology.”

“It is expensive, though.”

I stared at the passerby with a dumb expression. His right arm wasn’t flesh, but steel.

Just like mine.

A surreal feeling washed over me. I looked around, dazed.

There weren’t many,

but they definitely existed.

People with prosthetics made with the same design as mine,

Smiling and walking freely.

*Impossible.*

That was my first thought.

My prosthetics were something that could only be used by me. It meant that it needed precise magic manipulation to operate. It couldn’t possibly be mass-produced…

“You’ve got a pretty decent prosthetic there, young man.”

I flinched and turned around. A man, who looked like a typical rich idiot, was staring at me with gleaming eyes.

I mean that literally, his eyes were literally gleaming. Both of his eyes were prosthetic.

Every time he blinked, I could hear the clicking sound of the aperture.

“How much do you want for it? I’ll give you anything…”

“I’m sorry.”

Suppressing my confusion, I walked past the man and headed for the library with quick steps.

I needed to figure out what was going on, as soon as possible.

***

Thankfully, the library was still a library.

That is to say, there weren’t any librarians with eight mechanical arms or bookshelves with information transmission devices instead of actual books.

Of course, I did catch sight of people with prosthetics, but it wasn’t that many.

Feeling a slight sense of relief, I searched the bookshelves.

There were more books on ‘Martyr Rem’ than I had expected.

Novels, plays, biographies, and even academic papers.

Just at a glance, there seemed to be over a hundred books on the subject.

It took me less than an hour to select twenty books. I piled them on the desk, sat down, and began to read them one by one.

The first one was a biography titled, [The Emperor’s Loyal Servant]. I chose it because the author’s name seemed familiar.

I took a deep breath and opened the book.

[Rem, although he greatly impacted recent history, nothing is known about his past. It is generally believed that he was a descendant of a fallen noble family, but…]

I closed the book.

Right, this one’s trash. Next.

This time, it was an academic paper written by a professor I knew from my time at the academy, so it seemed trustworthy.

He was a professor who had hated my guts.

Hoping for the same sharp criticism from back then, I opened the book.

[There have been many tragic geniuses throughout history, but none as tragic as Rem. His prosthetics opened up new horizons for magical engineering, but he himself died at such a young age. If he had lived for another 10 years, he would have surely advanced the magical engineering of this era by at least 50 years…]

I closed the book with a rotten expression.

And then I picked up a novel.

Sometimes, novels are more transparent than any history book. And besides, the title was, [The Truth of the Martyr].

A title that inspires faith,

This one must have the answers…

[“I love you.” Rem cried as he knelt before Emperor Rosalia. “But cruel fate has made it so that only one of us can leave this place alive. So I have no choice but to accept death.”]

I closed the book.

Covering my face with my hands, I muttered,

“Fuck…”

***

Four hours.

That’s how long it took me to go through all 20 books. It was also the time I suffered from excessive praise and overly sentimental sentences.

But my suffering wasn’t meaningless.

Letting out a sigh, I leaned back in my chair. I looked at the stack of 20 books and thought about what I had learned.

There were three things:

First, ‘Martyr Rem’ was synonymous with ‘Saint’ in this world.

No matter which book I looked at, I couldn’t find a single negative sentence about him. Every scholar, every poet was singing his praises.

The only negative sentence I could find was, “He’s a terrible cook.”

Second, ‘Martyr Rem’ and ‘Emperor Rosalia’ were…

Right, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

They were me and the Captain.

The deeds of ‘Martyr Rem’ and ‘Emperor Rosalia’ described in those books, despite being excessively glorified, were similar to ours.

From the moment the Captain had entered my life, to the moment of my death.

Yes, to the moment of *my* death.

Third, the me in this world hadn’t been resurrected.

I, as you can see, am very much alive,

Even though I don’t have a heartbeat, even though I can’t even move properly without my prosthetics, and even though I could drop dead at any moment, I’m still alive.

Because the Captain and Feya resurrected me.

But, for whatever reason, the me in this world seemed to have died.

And through my death, the Captain became the Emperor.

I couldn’t help but frown.

This… This is the problem.

Me having died wasn’t that surprising. To begin with, I’d always been living a life where dying wouldn’t have been out of place.

What’s suspicious was the connection between my death and the Captain becoming the Emperor.

Could there possibly be a connection?

And one more thing…

Why isn’t Feya mentioned in any of these books?

It wasn’t just the Captain and me on that journey. Feya, first as an enemy, and then as an ally, had also been there.

But her name doesn’t appear even once. The deeds she had accomplished were all attributed to Dorn or Sheila.

I came here looking for answers, but I’m only left with more questions.

My thoughts, tangled like a ball of yarn, made my chest tight.

Just what in the world should I…

“Everyone, stay where you are.”

It was a strange voice.

Although it wasn’t loud, the voice spread through the library with remarkable clarity.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads to look. Their eyes were filled with bewilderment and fear.

But among them, I was the only one who felt something different.

Certainly, there were things about her that felt unfamiliar:

The black armor,

The black prosthetic hands replacing both hands,

The massive scar across her face,

and the pale skin.

But what was engraved in my memory was far stronger.

The hair color resembling a wheat field,

Eyes like the spring sky,

and most of all, the scar on the nape of the neck.

“I am Amy, Captain of the Central Knights. I am hereby authorized to search this library. This is an Imperial order, so those who resist or refuse will be met with the edge of my blade.”

Then, Amy nodded toward the knights behind her.

The knights moved in unison.

I reflexively hid behind a bookshelf.

But I didn’t know what to do.

Should I come out and let her know I’m here? But didn’t I die in this world? No, does it even matter? We’ve finally met, so should I…

At that moment, someone grabbed my arm.

I instinctively gripped the hilt of my sword and struggled against the pull, glaring at them.

“Oppa.”

But the moment I saw her blue hair, my body went limp.

What happened after that was like water flowing.

She pulled a strange device from her subspace pocket and threw it on the ground.

Smoke billowed, and shouts came from all directions.

But then, in the next moment, we were in a small room.

I could see the knights rushing out of the library through the window.

Finally coming to my senses, I turned to her and asked,

“Irene, is that you? Don’t tell me you too…”

But the words stopped as warmth pressed against my chest. The arm that wrapped around me silenced my surprise, and then the sobs, welling up in her throat, made me forget how to think.

“…Irene?”

Irene didn’t answer. She simply buried her face in my chest and spoke, her voice choked with tears,

“I thought… I was going to be alone again…!”

It was a disconnected sentence, but I instantly understood.

To her, I am,

To me, she is,

The only proof that our homeland existed.

We were connected by something no one else could understand,

The one irreplaceable person.

I silently held her in my arms, and waited for her trembling to stop.