Chapter 23

“The ending?”

“The reason that child is acting this way. Her purpose. Fate only determines the outcomes of major events—the paths leading to those events are countless. Twella is choosing one of those paths and moving forward.”

He looked at Al Terua. The Ascetic was staring at somewhere with hollow eyes. Quilbion couldn’t tell where.

“I don’t know what ending she saw, what process she’s striving for. But I have to help. Because that’s my role.”

“Has fate determined your role too, Ascetic?”

“No, probably not. Like I said, I’m a supporting character. That’s why I’m securing my meal ticket. Even supporting characters have their uses, don’t they?”

All the strength drained from his body.

Quilbion looked at Al Terua with exhausted eyes.

“How did you come to know about fate, Ascetic?”

“When I was outside, I was a mage. Not a great mage—just one who tinkered with tools and such. Then I discovered a book.”

“And everything was written in that book?”

“Yes, exactly. What fate was—it was written inside. At first I denied it. This couldn’t be true. Then I tried to feel fate myself.”

Al Terua shook his head. It was a gesture without even a speck of regret remaining.

“I quickly realized it was useless. Ah! I’m just a meaningless life form swept along by fate’s enormous current. At the same time, I learned something else. That there exist beings who can withstand fate’s gravitational pull and achieve their own results.”

“If you can’t change the ending, isn’t it pointless? No matter how the process goes, the story’s end will be the same.”

“Change your perspective. The protagonist’s narrative moves steadily toward the ending, but supporting characters like us can be different. In a way, it might be a good thing.”

Al Terua stood up holding two books.

“I have class, so I’m leaving now. I’ve done my part by holding you back once, so do as you please from now on. You can chase after Twella, or you can stay put.”

Quilbion also stood up, gripping his talisman.

“Twella already knows everything, doesn’t she?”

“Yes. Every event that could happen is probably in that child’s head. She must have experienced it tediously. She might even know this conversation we’re having right now. Of course, she might not.”

“What if I exceed expectations? What if I create a result different from anything Twella has seen?”

“I won’t stop you from trying. I don’t like a world full of extreme skeptics either. Keep going. Whatever it is, keep at it until you’re satisfied.”

As Al Terua went outside and closed the door, he asked one last question.

“That book you saw, Ascetic—is everything written in it true?”

“It should be.”

“Who’s the author? Can that person be trusted?”

“Well…”

The conversation broke off. Al Terua’s left eyebrow twitched. He could tell from the expression. The Ascetic couldn’t remember.

“You don’t remember properly, do you?”

“I did develop some memory problems. But the fact that the book exists and that I finished verifying it hasn’t changed.”

“It could be false. The book itself.”

“No, that won’t happen.”

“How can you be certain? Your only proof is memory, and even that memory is hazy. Right, brainwashing. Maybe even that memory…”

Al Terua’s eyes widened. Soon an irritated voice burst out.

“I’ll admit there are gaps in my outside memories. Maybe something went wrong from being in the surface realm too long. But! Don’t doubt the fact that I experienced it. Brainwashing? I already broke free from that long ago.”

Quilbion grabbed the doorknob and pulled hard. Al Terua, who’d been half-hidden by the door, became fully visible.

“Answer one more thing.”

“…What.”

“How did you come to be here, Ascetic?”

“I discovered it while researching the surface realm.”

“How did you become an Ascetic?”

“They recognized my nark and elevated me. Why? Are you going to doubt me again?”

“Yes. I need to doubt you. But I don’t mean you’re a goblin or on the goblins’ side.”

“Then?”

Just then, a bell rang. The sound signaling the end of rest time.

Al Terua looked outside.

Quilbion organized the questions pouring out.

“You discovered this place and entered on your own, and of course you learned sorcery from the goblins?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s strange. Every Ascetic I’ve seen was a goblin, yet only the being called Al Terua is human. Above all, the goblins don’t suspect you, Ascetic. They treat you as if you were a goblin.”

“…I’ll organize it and tell you later. I need to go to class.”

“Understood.”

Al Terua turned around while holding his forehead. His steps crossing the hallway looked precarious.

He’s not a goblin.

From his nark to his smell, and even intuition.

Everything indicated Al Terua was human.

But he wasn’t in league with the goblins either. If it were a problematic matter, Twella would have taken action.

If what Al Terua said was true, she would know everything.

Hazy memories.

The fact that he’d broken free from brainwashing.

His relationship with the goblins.

How had Al Terua come here, for what purpose had he remained, and if he’d been forced to stay, what had he been preparing all this time?

He’d said it with his own mouth.

That he couldn’t feel fate’s gravitational pull.

Al Terua’s purpose.

Depending on what it was, many things would change going forward.

Quilbion looked down at his hand. After staring briefly at the crumpled talisman, he threw it toward the corner of the room.

*

It was morning.

But it was quiet.

Quilbion opened his eyes to slits and shifted his gaze to the opposite bed.

Drich, who should normally be shaking out his blanket, was somehow still asleep. Moreover, with the blanket wrapped tightly around his head.

Drich usually slept stiff as a log and woke before the bell rang.

“Drich, get up. It’s morning.”

He got out of bed and organized his bedding. He changed clothes and even put on his shoes.

Drich was still lying down.

Was he sick?

The stamina monster who never knew fatigue?

“Drich, are you feeling unwell somewhere?”

He approached and gently pulled back the blanket.

He saw his friend drenched in cold sweat. He touched the back of Drich’s hand to his nape. There was no fever.

Ugh, Drich made a groaning sound and turned over, then opened his eyes wide.

Hazy pupils moved smoothly toward Quilbion.

He didn’t look well.

“Hey, snap out of it.”

He tapped his cheek lightly. Only then did Drich flinch and sit up.

“…Huh, what’s wrong?”

“‘What’s wrong?’ Your condition is a mess. Are you sick somewhere?”

“Me? Oh, um. No. Nothing.”

Making dazed sounds, Drich got out of bed and stumbled. He couldn’t control his body like a newborn calf.

“You’re not okay. Lie back down for now.”

“No, I’m really fine. And it’s almost morning cleaning time. I need to move.”

“Fuck off.”

At the words ‘fuck off,’ Drich’s eyes widened.

“You…”

“Fuck off and lie down. I’ll tell the Ascetic.”

“No, I’ll lose points.”

“Bastard, you’re really making me use harsh words.”

He shoved Drich back onto the bed as if body-slamming him.

“One day is fine. Today’s supervisor is Al Terua, so I’ll explain well.”

“…Okay, thanks.”

“Rest for half a day, and if it’s really not working, I’ll tell the Ascetic separately. You might need medicine.”

While speaking, he examined Drich’s face.

He didn’t seem to have a fever.

“Rest.”

Through the crack in the door, he could see Drich pulling the blanket up to cover his face like when he’d been asleep.

*

“Drich?”

“Yes.”

Al Terua nodded while saying he understood.

“I won’t mark it separately, so tell him to rest well.”

“Understood. And…”

“Let’s talk about what we didn’t finish yesterday tonight. There are goblin eyes around.”

Al Terua said while looking at a goblin loitering in front of the dormitory.

“Yes, let’s do that.”

He endlessly swept the purely white floor with his broom.

His outside memories were gradually reviving. The more they did, the more each action inside here displeased him.

There’s not a speck of dust, damn it.

Was cleaning also some kind of hand seal to strengthen sorcery? It might be a process necessary for brainwashing.

He rested his chin on the broom’s end and looked around.

He saw students cleaning with bright smiles. Faces that didn’t know worry.

But with one gesture from the Pioneer, they would display violence toward the designated person while wearing demon-like smiles.

Could Twella break those kids’ brainwashing at once? If she could break it, how should the ensuing chaos be controlled?

Quilbion looked up at the sky wall.

The disgustingly blue sky made curses come out naturally.

“We need to get out quickly, before going crazy.”

He understood why Al Terua’s memories weren’t intact. How could anyone survive living in a place like this without going insane?

Clang—he stopped sweeping at the bell sound.

He returned to his room. Drich was still lying down.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He poked him but got no response.

He grabbed the blanket and tried to pull it down…

“What are you doing?”

The blanket wouldn’t pull away. Drich was gripping it tightly from inside.

“You’re awake, right? Then why aren’t you answering?”

He grabbed the blanket and shook it violently. This much should make him let go, but Drich held on to the end.

“What are you trying to do?”

He grabbed the blanket with both hands and yanked it away in one motion.

Drich, who’d lost the blanket, made an ‘ack’ sound and curled up like a bean bug.

It wasn’t a fever or anything like that. He knew the moment he saw it. It was a psychological problem.

Could it be?

“Drich.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Did you remember something? Huh?”

At those words, Drich raised his head. He looked back with a flustered face as if asking how he knew.

“What came to mind? Tell me.”

“N-no. What are you even saying? I don’t know anything.”

“The Drich I know doesn’t say he doesn’t know. You have a damn strong ego.”

“…”

Drich didn’t answer and gathered his clothes. He left the room with confident steps as if to prove he was normal.

Quilbion immediately followed Drich.

“It’s different from usual, right?”

“I said it’s not.”

“Drich, listen carefully. If there’s something different from usual…”

“I keep saying it’s not!”

Drich ran out. To Quilbion’s eyes, it looked like fleeing.

“Running won’t help! You have to line up in front of the cafeteria anyway.”

He met Drich again in front of the cafeteria. There was no choice since they had to enter by dormitory.

“I have no problems. So don’t talk nonsense.”

Drich was extremely tense.

Stimulating him might be dangerous, so he spoke carefully.

“Alright. I get it, so just receive your food.”

After receiving their portions, they sat down. Drich was just staring at the black porridge in his bowl.

That confirmed it.

Drich had also opened his eyes.

He’d gained another comrade who’d glimpsed the truth.

“Drich, aren’t you eating?”

“…I have to eat.”

The hand holding the spoon was trembling. His complexion had also turned pale.

He couldn’t eat it for him. Finishing one’s own meal cleanly was established by the rules.

Quilbion lowered his voice.

“Grit your teeth and endure it. Absolutely don’t vomit. I’ll cover for you if you grimace. I’ll say I made a bad joke.”

Drich looked back with trembling pupils.

“Eat quickly. Before you’re caught. It’ll be fucking awful, but that’s the best option. It’s okay, you can endure it a few times. I endured it too, so you can do it.”