Chapter 40

It was remarkably comfortable.

Quilbion looked at Twella walking beside him.

Until he’d passed out, he’d been in the middle of hell—goblins rampaging, people dying all around.

But when he opened his eyes, the world felt changed.

The sound of wind filtering through leaves and the fresh fragrance rising from wet grass.

It was a coziness he hadn’t savored in a long time.

Perhaps that was why.

Quilbion didn’t say anything. He felt like the moment he opened his mouth and dragged reality into the open, everything would shatter to pieces.

“Drich, right? The one who was dead.”

Twella was the one who broke the peaceful silence.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you let go?”

His footsteps stopped.

What was she talking about, he wondered, then quickly understood her meaning. But understanding didn’t mean he could accept it.

“You were watching?”

“Yes, from before.”

Only then did Quilbion realize it. That he’d been deliberately avoiding looking into Twella’s eyes.

When he faced her directly, Twella’s eyes held an indescribable light. Even with the gaze he’d honed through reading people’s moods, he couldn’t read what emotions Twella harbored or what thoughts she was thinking at all.

No.

There was an even bigger problem than that.

Where was that girl he’d seen countless times, the one who’d shared worries and racked her brain together with him?

Looking into her eyes made it certain.

The person in front of him was Twella, yet not Twella.

“Listen.”

He’d started to speak with difficulty when it happened.

Twella clenched her hand tight. Then she looked straight ahead and spoke.

“Should we talk about something else for a moment?”

“Something else?”

“Talk about outside would be good. I’ve never told you about myself. Right?”

“That’s true.”

Psychological distance aside, warmth transmitted through their touching hands.

Was the Twella holding his hand the Twella he knew, or someone completely different?

“Have you heard of the Orc Tribe?”

“I have. Though it’s just rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

Twella turned her head to ask.

Her mouth caught his eye first with its lingering smile, then her gently curved eyes captured his vision.

Ah!

This was the Twella he knew.

“Mysterious folk. They say the Orc Tribe’s divination is close to prophecy, and their rituals summon miracles. Something like that?”

“You know it well.”

“Why the sudden talk about Orcs?”

“I inherited a bit of that blood.”

“Really?”

Quilbion blinked and stared at Twella’s face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Hearing you’re part Orc, you seem different somehow, but also not different.”

Twella giggled.

“The blood’s diluted, so there’s no difference from ordinary people at all. My mother said we left the clan and lived independently long ago.”

“I see?”

“I hear there are many factions among the Orc Tribe too. They barely communicate, so they don’t really know where everyone lives or anything.”

“Doesn’t sound very close.”

“It’s not that they aren’t close—more that there are many people who’d be troubled if Orcs gathered together. That’s why they decided only one ‘shaman’ would reveal themselves to the world and communicate with human society.”

The Orc Tribe shaman.

He’d heard of it. Though he didn’t know the details.

“The place I lived was truly quiet. Quiet enough to hear birds flapping their wings clearly.”

“Complete opposite of where I lived.”

“Really? What was your place like?”

Quilbion touched the tip of his nose.

“It was noisy. The village was at a crossroads leading to a big city. Hundreds of wagons passed through every other day. Horses, cattle, and people. All hauling goods without exception. Mechanical dolls too.”

“Sounds like it was bustling.”

“Don’t even get me started. When it was really busy, if you climbed above the chimney and looked down at the village, it was dizzying. Like, damn, where did all these people pour in from?”

It was still vivid before his eyes. The procession of wagons cutting through the center and the laborers packed tightly alongside them.

“Just hearing about it makes me feel exhausted somehow.”

“It was chaotic, but it wasn’t an unlivable place.”

Quilbion lightly shook Twella’s hand.

“What about where you lived? Besides being quiet, there must have been other features.”

“Quietness. That was all. It was a place with absolutely no contact with the outside world. When day broke, everyone would gather before the Sacred White Tree. Then we’d each offer prayers quietly.”

“Everyone in the village?”

“You can’t even call it a village. It’s embarrassing to call it a hamlet. There were only fourteen in total.”

“That’s small.”

How could fourteen people survive without any outside contact?

“Oh, but this Sacred White Tree is…”

“A very old tree. I don’t really know why it’s called the Sacred White Tree. Everyone called it that, so I just thought, oh, I see.”

“Is it really big? If it’s old.”

“No. It’s only as tall as me.”

“That’s really small.”

Twella smiled slightly.

“Anyway, after we all gathered and prayed, we’d scatter. Most went into the mountains to forage for food. I did too. I went to look for vegetables with my companion hawk.”

“And then?”

“We’d come home and divide what each person foraged fairly. Days we caught rabbits or deer were meat-eating days, days we only picked fruit had no meat.”

“What about winter?”

“We managed. We’d strip bark from trees to eat, boil roots of nameless plants and eat them.”

It was a harsh life. Even slaves could eat their meals at proper times.

“Must have been hard.”

“Not really. Even though the blood’s diluted, the Orcs’ constitution for longevity remains. I can survive on whatever I put in my mouth. Interesting, right?”

“Kind of envious. Wait, then you could have survived here just eating grass?”

“Why? Feel like you helped me for nothing?”

“That’s not it.”

She laughed with a giggle and continued speaking.

“It repeated every year. Foraging, eating, praying. Oh, right. Hey, you should call me older sister.”

Twella looked at Quilbion with a blank expression.

“Suddenly talking about older sister. You look about the same age as me.”

“Nineteen. That’s my age.”

“You’re joking.”

Quilbion pressed his hand’s edge against his forehead, then extended it forward. The edge touched Twella’s nose bridge.

“Your height’s a bit taller than mine, but girls are bigger when they’re young anyway. And nineteen? Way older than me? Don’t lie so obviously.”

“It’s true.”

“Then why are you so small? The adults I saw in the village didn’t look like this. Especially that older sister in Kestin…”

Quilbion swallowed the rest of his words.

“Older sisten in Kestin? That older sister what?”

“It’s nothing. Kids don’t need to know.”

“I’m an adult compared to you.”

“I only believe what I can see. If you want to insist you’re older, get taller.”

“You easily believe I’m part Orc but won’t believe me about something meaningless like age. Funny.”

“Funny? If it’s funny, that works.”

They stared at each other for a moment, then both laughed without either one leading.

After that, trivial talk continued.

What kind of weather they liked, what food they enjoyed eating, what they disliked.

It was definitely pleasant conversation.

But Quilbion knew.

That they were circling around the edges.

That they were avoiding the core while only finding things pleasant to hear and putting them in their mouths.

He knew this but didn’t change his attitude.

This was fine.

Like this, continuously.

“About the pigs.”

Twella began.

“Pigs?”

“You said you raised pigs.”

“Oh, that. Should I call it raising? I did take care of them, but the employer was the one providing their feed.”

Quilbion flicked his eyes once before speaking.

“I was a slave. My dad sold me. Mom probably agreed too. A few days before I was sold, Dad suddenly said he was sorry. It was weird. He’d hit me on the cheek plenty of times telling me to work, but he’d never once said sorry.”

“I see.”

“Ah, I shouldn’t have said that. This kind of thing isn’t interesting talk at all. Right?”

“No. I’m glad to hear it from your own mouth.”

The atmosphere changed.

The fact he didn’t want to notice loomed before his eyes. Quilbion examined Twella’s pupils.

They weren’t the pupils that had been friendly.

Eyes that seemed infinitely distant—right in front of him yet completely unreachable.

“Twella.”

“Yes.”

“What are you seeing?”

“Everything, all of it.”

“…Isn’t it painful?”

“I don’t know. What being painful even is.”

He put force into his grip. He clutched Twella’s hand tightly.

She seemed like she’d disappear any moment.

No, maybe she’d already disappeared.

“I haven’t told you something.”

“What?”

“The employer’s daughter. I liked her. She gave me food. She talked to me first too.”

“I see.”

“But it wasn’t kindness shown to a person. It was more like throwing food to a cute dog. When the dog eats the food and barks well, fetches things when you throw them. That’s when I understood. Ah! This is what being a slave means.”

“I see.”

Twella’s voice was calm.

That made him anxious, so Quilbion raised his voice even more.

“That’s why I hated people. The only kids I hung around with were slaves or kids without parents. They weren’t treated like people in the village either. So those who were the same hung out together and had fun.”

“So were you sad?”

“No, not at all. It was fun. Taking care of pigs suited me well enough. If I grinned stupidly in front of the employer and his family, food came easily, so there weren’t any big problems. Eat well, grow big, beat the employer’s brat senseless and run—that was my goal.”

“For that goal, your body’s too weak.”

“I’ll grow fast. Boys grow a bit late.”

She was responding to the conversation, but Twella’s gaze pointed toward somewhere far away.

The child who’d exchanged glances and talked warmly had vanished without a trace.

Impatience soaked through his entire body.

Quilbion pulled Twella’s hand. But Twella’s body didn’t follow.

Instead, Quilbion was pulled along.

“Twella, Twella!”

He tried to stop by scraping the ground with both legs, but it was useless. Twella advanced forward, and Quilbion’s body was led along without resistance.

“I really liked talking with you. Remember when we agonized in front of the warehouse? It was painful, but I still liked it. Having someone I could communicate with beside me, having someone who relied on me—it felt awkward but also happy.”

Twella didn’t answer.

She just kept walking forward.

“At first I just wanted to help. I also thought two heads were better than one when worrying alone. But it gradually changed. It wasn’t that I wanted to help—I wanted to protect. I honestly didn’t really understand what that difference was!”

They emerged from the forest.

The detestable dormitories came into view ahead.

Students were gathered in the wide clearing surrounded by four dormitories.

He could feel it even from far away.

Something was wrong.

The students had their heads raised, looking up at the sky. Those who appeared to be Ascetics were the same.

Endlessly, just, staring at the sky.

“Twella, listen to me!”

“I already heard it all. Far too much.”

“No, I still have things I haven’t said…”

Twella turned her head.

He met eyes that seemed to contain everything, yet also seemed completely empty.

“I know. I know it all. So…”

Her lips quivered.

The word carried on faint wind brushed past Quilbion’s ear.

No, no.

Quilbion denied it, but the word she’d spoken was clear.

“I’m sorry, Quil.”

And.

The sky split open.