Their Various Pasts 1 Allen was always carrying his little sister. After they lost their parents. And after they lost their home. He stubbornly kept walking, carrying his crying sister. They were strays. Powerless, mewling kittens. The scene around them as they walked was always one filled with ruins. Later on, he would learn that that place where hollowed out husks and debris spread as far as the eye could see was called the Scrap Heap. That it was the remnants of what had once been the largest country on the continent, which had been destroyed in a single night. That it was not a place where people could live. That it had become inhabited by ferocious monsters. It was just the other day that they had been living in peace, together with their parents whose faces he could not remember anymore, and yet before he knew it, their home had transformed into ruins. He remembered something shining. And their parents disappearing. And then they were all alone. “Lost little stray kittens, where is your home?” a headless bronze statue of an animal person asked. I don’t know. I don’t even know if a home for us exists. The birds flying in the sky won’t tell me anything. He just continued wandering through the never-ending world of ruins, protecting his little sister, searching for a peace that might not even exist. The powerless kitten Allen had no choice but to become strong for the sake of his idiot sister. If he did not, he would just get tripped up by her and end up dying himself. Fearsome magic beasts ran rampant in their world. There were those with grotesque figures and fangs and claws as well as hideous humanoid figures. Countless times, Allen fought them. Countless times, Allen killed them. And countless times, Allen grabbed his sister’s hand and ran away from them. They were constantly pelted by rain. There was never a day where the ashen gray clouds covering the sky cleared up. There was never a day that they were not faced with the sight of blood. And there was never a day that his little sister stopped crying. His sister, who was starved for familial love, got on Allen’s nerves countless times. He was always getting annoyed by her feeble fingers clinging to his clothes. He had lost count of how many times he had considered just casting her aside. He did not know how many times he had thought of swinging his fist down to knock her hands away. And he could not remember the number of times he had started to leave her behind only to have his heart give in. But still, despite all that, Allen continued to carry his little sister, coughing up blood as she slept in exhaustion from all her crying. The turning point came two years after their home had been turned to a mountain of rubble, when Allen was six years old. The wind blew. It was the breeze of a capricious goddess. “Come with me.” The goddess looking down at the two kittens simply held out her hand. Her body was hidden behind a robe, but even then, she was beautiful. His little sister was captivated by the goddess, but also scared of her. The kitten’s instincts were crying out that she might lose something precious. And Allen, captivated by those silver eyes, found himself comparing his little sister to the goddess standing before him. A crybaby and irredeemable idiot who was painfully bad at singing, who constantly annoyed Allen, who was weak. After looking at his teary-eyed sister—Allen took the goddess’s hand. 2 There was nothing they wanted. The brothers were all individually skilled enough that they could make a huge variety of things with their capable hands, and they used the excuse of being prums to give up on most things. The four Gulliver brothers were born in an industrial city. Their parents died early, but with what knowledge the four of them could muster, it was possible, albeit difficult, to make a living. Their faces were identical, and their personalities…well, they were pretty much the same, too. The eldest had it slightly worse perhaps, but it was not like they did not get along with each other. In order to make a living, the Gulliver brothers naturally became craftsmen. They were always covered in soot, wearing aprons and thick gloves. When they walked home after going shopping at the end of the day, the four of them often looked up at the evening sky muddied by the black smoke rising from all the workshops’ smokestacks large and small and thought, That looks disgusting. Having become craftsmen, the four brothers were able to make most anything a client might order if they worked together—beautiful bracelets, splendid earrings, and even tasteful gold- and silverwork, too. They never realized it themselves, but they had started to become known as the greatest craftsman in the city, the phantom master craftsman Gulliver, as if they were all just one person. There was a reason they were called “phantom,” though. Some crazy human or goddess or—anyway, someone with their own dangerous ideas tried to kidnap Alfrik because he had a cute face or something, so after that they did their best not to go walking around outside. After all, if someone tried to kidnap Alfrik, then that meant the other brothers who all looked exactly the same might be targets, too. They started holing up in a workshop carved out of a cliff that was little more than just a cave. Even if they were prums, they still did not want to have anything stolen from them. Their workshop in the cliff was always dim. Without their naturally good vision as prums, they would not have been able to live there at all. However, the four brothers always knew what the others were thinking. When they called out to each other, it was mostly just grunts like “Hey” or “Uh” and the responses that came back were just as short, “Yeah” or “Sure” and the like. Nothing that could really be called a conversation. Horrifyingly (amazingly?), there were times where they would go a whole day without saying anything because of their mutual understanding. They just quietly went about their lives, filling the orders that came from the dwarf master who was their intermediary. But of course, the better the craftsman, the farther the craftsman’s name would spread. The name Gulliver started to make waves even in the surrounding cities. So if you take a long enough view of it, they had actually been the masters of their fate. “Were you the ones who made this necklace?” One day, a goddess visited their workshop carved into the cliff. She had happened across one of the master craftsman Gulliver’s works by chance, taken an interest in its gorgeous handiwork, and tracked down the place where the phantom brothers lived. The four brothers froze. They had literally never laid eyes on such a beautiful being before in their lives, but it was as much because she had appeared at their dirty workshop and home. They awkwardly prepared tea for the goddess, and the goddess giggled as she watched them stiffly move around the workshop. While the four brothers sat in their chairs, engrossed by her beauty, the goddess explained why she was there. She talked about how she had a residence in the Labyrinth City, but from time to time, she would leave the city and go out in search of encounters—it was not until later that they learned that what she was looking for from those encounters was talented people the likes of which could not be found in Orario, in order to find souls suitable to be her Einherjar. And this time, she had happened to come across one of the Gulliver brothers’ works during her journey and had taken an interest in its creator because of its wonderful construction. To have such an appraisal from such a beautiful goddess was an honor, of course, but they were caught between confusion and a desire to dance for joy. And if one of them lost his head, the other three would, too. The goddess’s eyes narrowed as she smiled at the sight of the amusing brothers’ telepathic link working even in times like that. As if she were embracing the radiance of their souls. “Do you not have any interest in the world outside?” The four brothers glanced at one another before responding to the goddess’s question. “We do. And we’ve thought before that we would like to go on a trip outside.” “But we’re just prums and not yet master craftsmen, either.” “If we just up and left, we could never make it up to our master, who has always found jobs for us.” “And our dwarf master would surely never give us permission to leave.” The dwarf master who had walled them off was not a very good person. Recognizing their talent, he kept them hidden away and treated them unfairly because they were prums. Unfortunately, perhaps because of their own low evaluation of themselves as prums, the Gulliver brothers did not realize just how small their world was and how unfairly they were being treated. After they finished, a smile slowly spread across the goddess’s face. “I would like a necklace made by you. Could you please do that for me?” They leaped to their feet, readily accepting her request. When asked how long they would need, they responded, filled with determination. Five days, they said. No we’ll get it done in four! After she left the workshop, the brothers held hands and danced a little rondo. Someone wanted us specifically! She thought so highly of our skill! Not just anyone! A goddess as beautiful as that! Who knew such a wonderful thing could happen! The prums were not greedy. In fact, they were utterly unselfish. They were so pure that the goddess’s praise alone satisfied them so much they might have died. That was why they did not realize that they were always being exploited by such a greedy person. Left to themselves, they might have never stopped dancing, but once the eldest brother spoke up, they immediately started work on the necklace. They used the precious gold that they had been holding on to for a special item for the casting, and they concentrated and poured their all into a delicate design. Sure they were creating their ultimate masterpiece, they decided to name it Bringar. Four days later. They were in high spirits, but the one to visit their workshop was not the goddess but their dwarven master. “You guys are free to go now.” Huh? Doubt was visible on their faces as a lecherous grin spread across the dwarf’s face. “That goddess offered me a better deal than keeping you. Four nights’ worth, one for each of ya. Ha-ha-ha! I could die a happy dwarf now.” The goddess had approached the dwarf for negotiations. She had wanted them to be released. And what the rapacious dwarf had wanted in return was not money or prestige but the goddess herself. At that time, the Gulliver brothers, all four of them, felt a knot forming in their stomachs. Their minds went blank as a single desire consumed them. Without exchanging any words or signaling anything to each other, they dragged the dwarf into their lair with perfect coordination and butchered him. Four murderous impulses combined into one in order to erase the wretched scum that had defiled that beautiful goddess. They raised a fearsome roar from their tiny bodies as they stabbed the dwarf, who should have been stronger than them, over and over and continued to pummel him with hammers and other smithing tools, paying no heed to the dwarf’s pained cries as they allowed their rage to take control of them. The prums certainly were unselfish. However, they were by no means harmless. Their small bodies bore a potential befitting brave warriors that only the goddess had noticed. “Quit it, Alfrik!” “How much more broken can he get?!” “Even we’re getting grossed out!” “Shut up, idiots! I’ll never forgive this scummy piece of shit! I’m gonna murder him! This isn’t over until there’s nothing left of him! Not even his soul! He still hasn’t suffered nearly enough yet for what he did!” “““S-sorry!””” And in the midst of that fray, the rage of the eldest brother, Alfrik, was beyond control. They had always been together, but his younger brothers had never known just how intense his wrath could be until that day. He just kept tenaciously hacking away at the body of their master, who had long since succumbed to his horrific wounds. From that day on, the younger brothers swore to never truly enrage their older brother, who was normally left holding the short straw. “You killed him?” After it was all over and their fury had passed, the goddess appeared at their workshop, and seeing the walls of the cavern stained crimson red, she looked sad. “Spending a night with a boring man is a cheap price to pay to get my hands on you.” And then, as the brothers hung their heads, the goddess smiled. “Because what I really wanted…was you.” The brothers wept. They bawled shamefully, like children. It was something they had never felt since they had lost their parents: the love of another. The goddess’s love was equal for the four of them and was such that she had not hesitated at offering herself in order to have them. The Gulliver brothers swore allegiance to her. In order to repay the goddess’s divine will that had spent four nights with that rotten filth for their sakes, they became her followers. There was nothing that they desired. But that day, a lust for her favor was born. The prums who had been so unselfish became covetous, wishing for one single thing: That one love, and nothing else. 3 Hegni was an incompetent king. More precisely, he was a dark elf whose only talent was fighting. In the age of gods, dark elves were rare. In the distant ancient times, when monsters were pouring out of the giant hole and spreading across the land, the dark elves had fought to protect their race’s sacred peaks, the Alv Mountains. They were overrun by the countless grotesque beasts, causing their population to shrink dramatically. Meanwhile, the white elves, the lineage considered normal elves in current times, had been led down the Alv Mountains by their high elf at the time who had chosen not to sacrifice them to fight the monsters. The dark elves cursed the white elves as cowards and disgraces and hoped to one day revive their dark tribe. They dreamed of the day the dark high elf, whose lineage was said to have continued, would rise up and lead them again. And for the sake of that dream, the dark elves—or rather a specific hardheaded group of dark elves who had holed up in a forest—were desperate to take out the white elves in the forest whose tribe was flourishing. Even though they were all still elves, despite the differences in magic and magical ability and skin color. Hegni was not a high elf, but he was nonetheless chosen as the warrior king of the dark elves’ capital. He was not good at dealing with other people. More to the point, he was scared of his fellow elves, who tried to force concepts like pride and self-respect on him in the name of some duty. He was a more sensitive and easily hurt elf by nature. All things being equal, he would have been tragically bullied by his fellow elves. Fortunately, though—or perhaps unfortunately for him—he had a talent for battle. To an unimaginable degree, the arrows and magic of elves famed as the marksmen of the forest were useless against him. The white elves who faced him cowered while the dark elves who had him on their side were filled with delight. And because of that, he was exploited. His clan spent all their time warring with the nation of white elves that lived in the same forest as them. And whenever hostilities broke anew, Hegni was always forced to stand at the head of a host, leading the warriors into battle. If he did not manage to strike down enough enemies, they would hurl abuse at him. And he knew that in the village, there was no end to the sniping at him behind his back. Before he realized it, and rather fittingly considering his personality, Hegni started to feel that the gaze of others was the most terrifying thing in the world. In the remote, far-off frontiers of the continent, there was a giant lake, and in the middle of it was a forested island of fairies: Heodenings. Unbeknownst to and closed off from the rest of the world, it contained two states, one of dark elves and one of white elves. Isolated from its surroundings, it was a place of continuous battle. The end result of fanatical self-obsession. Hegni, who did not know where he was in what should have been a wide world, started to think of the mysterious giant forest where the sacred tree and every other tree covered the sky as a graveyard. And at the same time, he started to despise himself for being so small and so foolish, for being unable to change anything. And in the end, Hegni started to love the darkness, where he could not be seen by anyone other than himself. The darkness was his one true friend. Kneeling down at the roots of a big tree and letting his worn-down body be embraced by the darkness became a daily routine for him. And one day, when he was exhausted after a particularly fierce battle, after abandoning himself to the darkness, in a dream or a hallucination, he met a certain witch. “You’ve worn down your body and even your soul so much, and yet you don’t try to change anything?” Hegni hugged his knees tightly, looking away as he answered the witch’s question. “I can’t change anything, because my determination is weak and I’m trash. I’m scared of all the eyes looking at me in disappointment and blame. I’m scared of being laughed at. I’m embarrassed to keep living. That’s why, at the very least…I want to fight and die with my trusted sword.” There was a being who had caught Hegni’s interest. The other king, who led the white elves he fought. Unlike him, that king was handsome and gallant. He had golden hair and a sharp, piercing gaze. The difference between him and Hegni, who was an incompetent king, was like the difference between heaven and earth. The title of king had caused Hegni all sorts of pain, but that white elf who constantly strove to be a proper king was dazzling to him. It made him envious and jealous. Hegni, who was consumed by a sense of inferiority, wanted to win against that man. Even if it meant trading blows, he wanted to run him through with his sword. After all the fighting that was the only thing left that he wanted. “I see. Then I shall set you free. Once I do, maybe you’ll be able to achieve your dream.” He felt like the witch smiled after she said that. But when Hegni looked up, she was no longer anywhere to be found. He decided that she must have been an illusion he had seen in his exhaustion. The battle between the fairies that was the pinnacle of unsightliness intensified dramatically after that day. The arrogant pride of the fairies that was on display for all to see demonstrated their true repulsiveness. —It was probably inevitable that they would be destroyed by the goddess who so valued beauty. Hedin was a young, wise king. But at the same time, he was a white elf who was an embodiment of the fairies’ tendency to look down on everything other than themselves. He appeared intellectual, but his true nature was far more severe. When enraged, his features warped unattractively, and he would slaughter those who defied him like a merciless tyrant. Hedin was hailed as the brilliant king of the white elves. Of course he was not actually a high elf. Hedin understood better than anyone that his title was just the royal fantasies of provincial elves living deep in the woods. But even if it just extended their foolish make-believe longer, once he had been anointed king, he fully understood that if he did not fulfill his duties, his incompetent people would die. Because Hedin considered himself competent, he did not try to escape his duties as king. Running away would be the same as lowering himself to the level of those trifling fools he most despised. His pride would not allow that. At present, the source of his concerns, or rather his annoyances, was the dark elves continuing to attack his city. They were true barbarians who lived in the same forest but could think of nothing more than eradicating their own fellow elves. Judging the conflict with them to be the most inefficient use of resources, he restrained the other white elves and sent out a peace envoy. However, the dark elves were single-minded in their response: “We shall reclaim our Hildr.” In the long history of these two elf tribes fighting each other, there had been a single period where they negotiated a temporary nonaggression pact. As proof of their commitment, the dark elves had handed over the holy woman Hildr, a miraculous healer. And Hedin was descended from her. Even though terms like white and dark are thrown around, to begin with elves were all the same race. Their children’s skin color was mixed. And since the dark elf lineage only entered the pool once, it naturally weakened, meaning Hedin had naturally inherited the traits of white elves most strongly. Hedin was Hildr’s descendant and thus would forever have her blood. What the dark elves were demanding was nothing more and nothing less than to wring every last drop of blood out of him. —Fools. Hedin spat back in response. And the negotiations fell apart. He was fed up with the daily battles. Those puppets of pride and duty seemed to take more joy in fighting one another than they did with dwarves who were supposed to be their natural enemy. They truly never bored of fighting. Because he was the king, Hedin took command in terrific fashion, and wielding the powerful magic that was his birthright, he annihilated the dark elves. He became a symbol of terror to the dark elves while being a powerful leader for the white elves. While that never-ending battle was raging, ironically, Hedin’s talent as well as that of the other king on the dark elves’ side continued to grow. They became preeminent powers, despite being trapped in their narrow world. If someone from outside their world saw them, they would not believe that neither of them had received Falna. Their strengths became such that before they knew it, they could no longer be contained by the world that they were trapped in. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Muttering the same thing over and over in his mind, Hedin had pondered ripping off his crown and casting aside his country more than a few times. And he had lost count of the number of times his face had been warped by the reality that if he did that, his country would be destroyed, which would leave a blemish on his record—the equivalent of a defect in the world—that would last forever. Stuck in that hideous situation, Hedin had become a slave to his pride. And one day, in the evening in the king’s room, the great window open so he could see the sacred tree from it, Hedin, who had been drinking alone, met a certain witch, perhaps in a manifestation of an illusion brought about by his drunkenness. “Despite understanding everything, you continue to be a slave to your country?” Hedin downed his glass of wine and laughed mockingly at the witch’s question. “I called myself king. Even if it is a narrow, foolish little world, I will carry out my duty. No matter how fed up with it I am. If I cast it all aside, then I’d become something worse than an incompetent. If I have to choose between being a slave and being an incompetent, then I, Hedin, would choose the former. And besides, I’ve long since decided I would die on the battlefield.” There was a being who had caught Hedin’s interest. The other king among the dark elves who had transformed into a glistening blade. A victim of the vagaries of the world who, despite being king, did not, could not live up to his title. And despite all that, he was stronger than anyone. A single incomparable genius great enough to overcome a hundred incompetents by himself. Hedin utterly detested that bundle of contradictions, a disgraceful failure who was simultaneously peerlessly skilled. And at the same time, Hedin was filled with an intense competitiveness, not wanting to lose to that other king, who was the only other being in this world that Hedin had acknowledged. Hedin, who was an embodiment of pride, wanted to win against the one man he judged capable of killing him. Even if it meant trading blows, he wanted to pierce that dark elf with his lightning. If there were to be any way of saving this world, it would be by reaching a conclusion with him first. That was the only way. “In that case, I’ll release you from the yoke of being king. What happens after that is for you to decide.” The witch smiled and held out a glass of wine to him. Hedin’s smile twisted as he took the glass and drank it dry. When Hedin sobered up, she had disappeared. He wet his lips with water, thinking he had seen a foolish dream. From that day onward, despite being scared of him, the fairies’ arrogance brought about by their king’s power became unstoppable. Incapable of loving one another they instead only scorned one another, revealing their incompetence for all to see. —And because of that, it was only natural that the goddess would turn her back on a world without love. The conflict between white elves and dark elves gradually devolved into a total war involving all their people. Other than children who did not know any better and had not yet been stained by anything, every last one of them picked up arms and joined the final battle as if it were a holy crusade. The drumbeat pushing for a final decisive clash that was building was abnormal, but neither Hegni nor Hedin made any effort to stop it. Both the kings and their countries felt that if they were going to be destroyed in this one battle then at least they could devote themselves to their desired battlefield. In the middle of the mystical woods, the battle began on the border between the two countries. As was to be expected, the white elves with their skilled commander held the advantage throughout, but that only lasted until Hegni faced off against Hedin. After that, Hedin did not have the leeway to focus on anything other than his own fight and could no longer give orders, and as a result the armies’ positions flipped. The dark elves had a greater military potential. That was the price the white elves paid for having continued to rely on Hedin’s skilled command. As the two kings’ battle intensified, around them, one elf after another fell, and before they realized it, Hegni and Hedin were the only ones left standing on the battlefield. Crimson bloomed, bloodshot eyes opened wide, and masks of rage covered their faces as their mortal combat unfolded. Despite the fact that the people and countries tying the two of them down were already gone, they pushed themselves to their limits because if nothing else, they would not allow themselves to lose to the elf standing before them. And three days later, they still had not determined a victor. Suddenly, the witch appeared. “You can’t reach a conclusion. Even though I listened to your wishes and decided to welcome whoever survived.” They were in the center of the island surrounded by a river of blood and the corpses of countless warriors. She sat down on one of the undirtied crystals right next to Hegni and Hedin, who were breathing raggedly, beaten and battered. The two swung around in shock as she rested an elbow on either leg and rested her cheeks on her hands. The goddess’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry I destroyed your countries. They were just too unsightly.” At those words, time froze for the two of them. Hegni recognized it instinctively while at the same time, Hedin understood it logically. The drumbeat to war that had been building among the elves had been her doing. She had delivered revelations to the elves like an oracle, provoking their pride, and inciting them toward their own destruction. In that insular little world, if a deity really had appeared, then the elves would surely have believed her words and obeyed. “A king who tyrannizes his people and a king abused by his country—which is more unsightly? At least in this case, I’d have to say the latter is the one that makes me want to sigh more. “It’s amazing you both managed to reach such extremes,” she added. Hegni and Hedin were in awe as they faced the goddess, who was like the accumulation of all the beauty in the world. However, she merely continued to smile. Indeed, there was even a glimpse of mercy on display as she continued, “I just had to free you from that never-ending curse.” She was truly both a witch and a goddess. While there were those who were saved by her love, there were also those whose destruction was brought about by that same love. Two sides to the same coin. Free-spirited and cruel. However, in the eyes of Hegni and Hedin, who had been stuck in that cage of eternal struggle, she seemed utterly sublime. “If I’m being honest? I just couldn’t bring myself to forgive the two countries that were holding back two so splendid as you, so I used some dirty methods to snatch you away.” The two kings gasped as the goddess spoke without any hint of concern. Everything that she said was true. The goddess who had spoken only the truth asked them one final question. “I’ve taken possession of these children’s souls, and I’ve broken the world that was tying you down. My intention was to take you back with me, but…what do you want?” Both of their answers were obvious. Hegni, who despised himself more than anything, was granted light by someone who accepted him as he was, more than anyone else ever had. In front of her, and only in front of her, he had no need to hide himself in the darkness. And Hedin was set free from his duty by meeting someone more suited to rule than himself. He was finally allowed to be free. The two of them were saved by that haughty and cruel goddess. And from that day on, Hegni’s and Hedin’s souls were stolen by the goddess. 4 Snow was falling. Beautiful, cruel white fragments fell from the heavens, gradually burying the freezing body. It was all alone. It was cold. There was no one who would hold it close nor anyone who would relieve its starvation. The indisputable reality was there in the freezing limbs. The unalterable truth was there in that squalid body. Why am I so dirty? So poor? So empty? So cold? Those questions rose to the surface of an ashen heart for the thousandth time before disappearing. What would I have to do for this body to stop being this body? While an ephemeral consciousness gradually faded, what little remained was genuinely pondering that question. And as that pondering continued, the consciousness decided to try to stop living. And at that time— “—Are you okay?” A soothing soprano voice resounded in those frozen ears. The voice wrenched open eyelids that were threatening to fall, and the moment those eyes saw the owner of the voice, they widened. An outrageously beautiful, rich, satisfied, warm being was standing there. It was the first evidence that such a being could actually exist in this world. “I was thinking of trying to help you…Is there anything you want?” the being standing there asked, as if she was just asking to amuse herself. Or perhaps, as if she could see the glimmer of a wish harbored in that body. There is. Of course there is. Finding out that such a beautiful, rich, satisfied, warm being existed, there was a single thing gripped that cold, empty, poor, dirty heart. It was not merely envy or longing or jealousy—it was an all-consuming desire. I want to become you. I want to quit being me and become the clean, warm you. That rich being honestly had not expected that answer. Shocked, she laughed out loud. “You want to become me? How ravenous can you be? There’s never been a child who’s said that before!” There were those who had been saved by her love. And those who had sworn loyalty to her. But there had never once been a person who had wanted to become her. She laughed. The silver-haired goddess kept laughing. As if to demonstrate how unbelievably strange the request was. As if her interest had been piqued. “All right, then, I’ll give you—. In exchange, will you give me?” There was a slight nod in response. And then, in that slum devoid of all hope, the goddess reached out her hand and asked: “What is your name?” The girl’s lips twitched. “—Syr.” There was an explosion accompanied by a terrible odor. There was an odd thwump as a puff of black smoke started to rise. Faced with the explosive disaster rising from the pot, the girl tilted her head cutely and calmly extinguished the heat source before shaking her head. Her platinum hair that was tied back, swaying as she did. “It feels like something is off…” Inside a narrow kitchen. The girl was cooking in a room that resembled a certain tavern somewhere, as if it was constructed to be a replica inside the familia’s home. Wherever her gaze might wander around the room, there were countless ingredients in pieces and in the pot as well as several other pans and utensils were charred. “Like it’s wrong…or like there’s something…like I’m missing something…?” Beside her, holding back her nausea with a hand to her mouth, was a female member of the familia, a girl of a similar age. Even hidden behind her long hair, her face was clearly beautiful, but currently it was twisted in grim agony. She was the poison tester—or rather, taste tester—for the experimental cooking that was being conducted here. “Should I say that it was far, far better back when you prepared things that you didn’t have to cook…or rather, I would greatly appreciate it if you could return to that…?” “Awwww, you’re so cruel, Helen! Even if it turned out like this, I am still trying my best, you know!” “I fully recognize and understand that you are trying your best, but…!” Helen shrank back a bit as the little girl threw up her hands in anger. Despite being clearly far stronger than the girl, she was careful not to be disrespectful. It could even be said that that was why she was suffering. “The die is already cast! There’s no choice left but to push on, break through my limits, and create the ultimate tasty dish!” Taking the cookbook from the table, the girl reaffirmed her resolve and furiously started reading it as Helen paled in despair. What did a person have to do in order to create such novel, strange, deviant dishes? There was no end to Helen’s questions. She could do nothing but shudder and declare it the work of a god. “I’m going to use the results of this training to make Bell happy!” Helen hung her head in exhaustion. The girl made another few dishes that Helen suffered through taste-testing, and then she put the best one into a basket. Even understanding it was not entirely fair, Helen could not help resenting the boy whose stomach would just barely survive thanks to the sacrifices of her and other taste testers. She did fully recognize that he would have to endure a fair amount of suffering, too, at least. “All right, I’m headed out!” “Ah! W-wait a minute! What about protection…!” “I’ll be fiiiine! After I head to the orphanage, I’m just going to the tavern!” As the girl finished up her preparations quickly, Helen gave up and just let it go. “Umm, please take care of yourself…L-Lady Syr…” She paused for a bit, struggling with what to say before getting it out. And the girl, Syr, smiled. “I will! See you later!”
Chapter 23
32 min read