HEO 37

“Sir. Have you been through something like this before? Could this actually be some kind of illusion or hypnosis cast by a wizard or something…”

“An interesting hypothesis. Well, I’ll just say I hope that’s really what it is.”

Black Weasel gave an ambiguous reply, then grabbed Silver’s shoulders with both hands and whispered.

[Silver. Are you coming to your senses yet? Listen carefully. Maybe we can survive.]

[What the hell are you talking about? The servant said we’re dead.]

[Good, you’re coming to your senses. Listen, I’m doing this because I have a plan. This shitty situation we’re in is fucking identical to a story I heard from someone a long time ago.]

[What?]

Silver’s eyes widened. Wolf, who had been watching them, leaned forward. Those two… they seemed to be having an important conversation.

Dammit, speak Atanian! Don’t keep it between yourselves again!

They seemed to sense Wolf’s gaze. Black Weasel leaned close to Silver’s ear.

[Silver, you startled him, now the servant’s staring. Just listen quietly from here on. Don’t mess up.]

Black Weasel’s voice dropped to a whisper. Wolf knew his suspicions were confirmed. They were sharing information between themselves. What? Fuck, what is it?!

[It was long ago. I was wandering alone when I stopped at some harbor dock. A certain fellow caught my eye.]

Black Weasel continued whispering into Silver’s ear. The latter stared only at his own feet.

[Even at first glance, she was a genuine madwoman. Sitting sprawled on the street, unable to blend in with the riffraff, babbling incoherently to herself, there was something strangely familiar about her. After staring for a while, I finally recognized her. Shr was from a tribe I’d visited long ago. A small tribe tucked away in the wilderness. The madwoman was the blacksmith who used to sharpen my old axes. I was shocked.]

[What’s so shocking? How many men get kicked out of their tribe for causing trouble?]

[She wasn’t the type to be kicked out. She was too skilled to be stuck there, and the tribe treated her with respect. Yet she was expelled. I wondered what terrible mistake she could have made.]

Black Weasel paused, then he laughed. Wolf gripped the hem of his robe so tightly his fingertips turned white. If a human brain were parchment spread wide open for reading, he would have lunged to cleave Black Weasel’s head in two by now.

[I put a single coin into her palm and asked. Did you get caught raping some young, pretty priest? The blacksmith rambled like she’d been trapped on a wrecked ship for half a year, drunk out of her mind. You know what I finally managed to make out?]

Black Weasel paused before adding.

[A skeleton monster with a girl’s face.]

[……]

[At the time, I dismissed it as nonsense. But now it’s clear. The blacksmith suffered the same fate as us.]

[So… you mean you once, by chance, encountered someone who had been attacked by a skeleton?]

Silver glared at Black Weasel.

[You want to believe, like the servant, that we fell victim to some wizard’s collective hallucination? Shut up. You created that imaginary blacksmith. You went mad because you couldn’t accept the sudden reality of dying. Accept it already, bastard. We’re fucked.”]

[Here’s the point. The blacksmith was fucked like us. But somehow, she made it back to the human world. If she did it, so can we. Except we’ll live a long, sane life. So what do you think of my plan?]

[What the fuck… a plan… Ah, this bastard is going to make me lose my mind too. Anyway, why did you call the prince and the servant?]

Silver’s gaze swept over Wolf and Red Eagle. He’d been paying attention every time the assassin and his assistant spoke in Stoll, and Wolf had suddenly noticed. “Ebni” and “Gnit” would occasionally appear in their conversation. Whenever those words were spoken, their gaze would invariably glance in his direction.

It means prince and servant!

[Those bastards stabbed us in the back. They’re cunning. The more disadvantageous the war, the more you need excellent warriors.]

[What warriors? Are you joking? I don’t know about the servant, but the prince…]

Silver said ‘Ebni’ and ‘Gnit’ again.

[Let’s just say he’s an excellent second-in-command. Here, cunning matters more than fighting skill. While the blacksmith was sharpening my axe, I had nothing better to do, so I just chatted away. The blacksmith was careful and perceptive. She was just like that servant.]

This time, ‘Gnit’ came out of Black Weasel’s mouth.

[The reason a blacksmith who can’t fight managed to escape from here. Two things. Either she was incredibly lucky, or she was incredibly clever. Well, maybe both. Anyway, keeping the prince and the servant close in this situation won’t hurt us.]

[Really? I told you to stop talking nonsense.]

[Anyway, the blacksmith’s story is a secret. Let’s keep this plan between us.]

[Ah, well… Okay. Forget it.]

At some point, Wolf’s gaze had latched onto Silver’s hands. Both were clutching Black Weasel’s hem with all their strength. The hands that had ruthlessly killed four people before Wolf now clung feebly to Black Weasel’s clothes. As if the stained, worn fabric were the only rope that could pull him out of this hell. Even though the owner of those clothes was the very man who had murdered Silver’s own mother.

Only then did Wolf truly realize the solid wall standing between those two and himself. A wall called time.

‘Trust me, I spent eleven years living with that bastard.’

He had thought Silver was enduring life beside Black Weasel, biding his time for revenge someday… but that wasn’t it.

Now he understood Silver. To Silver, Black Weasel was a comrade who had walked the path of adventure with him for a long time, and a guardian who had raised him. Silver lost his mother at six years old. They say out of sight, out of mind. Even Wolf himself, if asked to recall any memory related to his mother, whom he lost at nine, would hesitate and fumble for words.

Memories were like portraits. Cheaply painted ones whose colors faded quickly. Only the resentment born from his mother’s favoritism toward Red Eagle remained as vivid as a fresh bruise, while other memories grew blurrier with time. Even that resentment had faded while traveling with Red Eagle. Wouldn’t it be similar for Silver? Perhaps living with Black Weasel had subtly diminished his hatred.

Wolf found himself lost in an unexpected recollection. A scorching summer day when, even while suffering from a high fever, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the door; waiting for his mother’s footsteps that never came.

Why? Why am I suddenly remembering something so long past?

Wolf bit down on his lip. Just as a metallic taste touched his tongue, the world suddenly brightened before his eyes.

“Huh…!”

The light transformed into thousands of needles, stabbing into his pupils. Screams erupted from all around. Wolf reflexively closed his eyes. He endured it for several seconds before slowly opening them.

His blurred vision gradually sharpened. Through the scattered light, Silver and Black Weasel appeared faintly. The assassin and his assistant stared into space, their mouths gape.

Wolf unconsciously followed their gaze and gasped. A monstrous dog with three heads. Perched on its back, ‘it’ was looking down. The skeleton with the girl’s face, wearing a black skirt. One hand propped its chin, legs crossed.

The monster’s mouth twitched.

〔Execution.〕

***

What did it say?

Wolf stared at the monster in a daze. The words coming from its mouth were in Stoll. The Atanians couldn’t understand them.

Moreover, it was the voice of a young woman, unfit for that childish face. It was also bizarre how clearly it sounded, as if spoken directly into his ear.

Wolf glanced at Black Weasel, Silver, and Red Eagle. The assassin and his assistant were completely focused while staring at the monster. Red Eagle was trembling, both hands pressed over his ears.

That voice… Everyone heard it.