Chapter 44

He came back.

To the detestable dormitory.

He sat on a bench and caught his breath.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He asked the bird beside him. Then an answer came back.

“You’re being tricked.”

It was Twella.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Quilbion, Quil! Please get your head on straight. Would a trained bird bring you here for no reason? What do you think the reason was for constantly throwing apples at you? Hm? It was giving you food. To fatten you up before eating you.”

“Like you?”

The hallucination disappeared.

Actually, she wasn’t wrong. This was goblin territory. It was where monsters lived that fed on humans—no, on nark—as their staple diet.

“Come out now. If you’re going to eat me, eat me now. Stop playing around.”

The strength drained out of him completely.

He didn’t even feel like resisting.

He hadn’t been able to defeat Yellow Forms even when his eyes worked and his nark moved.

If a blind man met a goblin, there was only death waiting.

“Is toying with me your hobby? Then go ahead.”

He tapped the ground with his stick and headed toward Friendship House. Even without vision, he had no trouble finding it.

He entered through the wide-open entrance.

One, two, three, four.

He counted his steps and turned his body to the left.

The room he’d shared with Drich.

He pushed the door handle and opened the closed door.

A familiar smell greeted him.

“It’s fine.”

At most a month had passed, so it was natural nothing had changed. Though it felt like years had flowed by.

He lay down on the bed. When he pulled the soft blanket over himself, the tension drained out of him completely.

A goblin might be grinning at him through the window, but he didn’t care.

The coziness he was savoring after so long was just too good.

“If you’re going to kill me, kill me in my sleep. You can at least do that much.”

He laid his head on the pillow.

Sleep came in an instant.

*

He came to his senses while stroking the back of his neck.

He was still alive.

He felt a presence beside him, and when he reached out his hand, he touched stiff feathers.

“It’s you.”

He stroked the bird’s head.

Whose orders was it following when it led him to this place?

If it had been an impatient goblin, they would have eaten him the moment they saw him. Was it a future-oriented goblin waiting until he fattened up?

Quilbion formed a hand seal and turned his consciousness inward. The nark that had flowed freely like water was still stiffly hardened like tree sap exposed to sunlight.

“Maybe the nark being like this makes me not worth eating.”

Or maybe the bird’s owner was human.

If it was a person who possessed both caution and consideration, the series of actions made sense.

They might have been observing from a distance because approaching could be dangerous, only delivering food through the bird. If they’d guided him here to solve the housing problem, everything lined up fairly well.

Quilbion chuckled.

Had there ever been a time in his life when he’d been lucky?

Looking back, he’d only survived because his lifeline was tough—there’d never been a single time when he’d been fortunate.

A warm-hearted but timid person was helping him from afar?

That was ridiculous.

“Anyway, my life is in your owner’s hands.”

He spoke while holding the bird, his only source of warmth.

He would survive.

The vague goal had been realized to some extent. Even if it was a precarious life, he was alive right now anyway.

So what should he do now?

Hope was in an unreachable place. No matter what he did, he’d end up suffering something bad in the end.

So would it be better to end his life here and now rather than die while being mocked?

Quilbion shook his head while stroking the back of his neck.

He could do other things, but choking himself to death with his own hands was something he absolutely couldn’t do.

No, he didn’t want to do it.

He’d survived through sheer persistence, so out of spite if nothing else, he wouldn’t commit suicide.

He picked up his stick and went outside.

He would accomplish one goal each day.

First, he’d arrange his surroundings.

Even when he’d worked at the pig pen, environmental arrangement had been most important. He had to optimize his routes to improve work efficiency—that way he’d get hit less by the owner and secure time to rest.

He would move with Friendship House as his center.

He moved while retracing his memories.

There were all sorts of things inside the cleaning supply storage room. Quilbion carefully opened the door he thought was the storage room.

A place he’d frequented as often as the bedroom.

The musty smell confirmed it.

He searched for items by feeling around with his hands.

It should definitely be on the right.

He rummaged through the shelves and finally found the rope. He carefully lowered the coiled rope while feeling its rough texture.

It was quite heavy.

He brought the rope to the bedroom. He cut the rope with the sickle he’d brought along.

“Ah, fuck.”

Controlling his strength while unable to see was quite an ordeal. Quilbion put down the sickle and rope and stroked his palm.

The thick flesh between his index and middle fingers was torn. He applied saliva to the stinging wound for now.

Fortunately, there was no discomfort moving his fingers.

He continued working again.

He unraveled the five strands that made up the thick rope and re-wove them into one long strand.

The work continued for several days.

He ate, slept, and wove rope inside the bedroom, then went out to relieve himself.

When about ten days had passed by his perception, a very long strand was complete. It was more flimsy than rope twisted together, but it was fine for use as a boundary marker.

He took the strand outside.

After wrapping the end of the strand tightly around the main entrance of Friendship House, he moved.

Love, Friendship, Diligence, Gratitude.

He connected the four main entrances with the strand.

When Quilbion returned to Friendship House, he put down his stick and tried walking while relying on the strand. The strength was pretty good and there was no problem when he pulled it.

He’d given enough slack in the middle for the strand to touch the ground, so there shouldn’t be any chance of it breaking in the wind.

He wandered around each dormitory searching for useful items.

Clothes to change into, blankets, various cloths and tools needed for living.

The fortunate thing was that inside the surface realm, it was neither cold nor hot.

If it had been outside with seasons, he would have frozen to death in winter.

“…I made it through today too.”

Quilbion collapsed onto the bed and caught his breath.

He was spending time diligently.

Of course, after finishing one task, instead of satisfaction, doubt came over him. What meaning does any of this have?

When that happened, he stopped thinking and moved his body.

The owner had taught him this.

– If you have too many idle thoughts, move your body. That’s better anyway. Complaining won’t change your situation.

It was a shitty thing to say, but it was also helpful advice.

Anyway, he was getting by thanks to the owner’s advice that wasn’t really advice.

“Does your owner still have nothing to say today?”

He spoke to the bird that would be watching from beside him. The bird gave a short screee, then disappeared through the window.

“Yeah, go. Go. I’m going to sleep.”

Before sleeping, he picked up a sharp stone and felt the wall. He felt scratches at his fingertips.

He scraped the wall with the stone.

Scraaaatch.

Another day ended.

*

“It’s not good to skip breakfast.”

He heard that disgusting voice the moment he woke up.

Quilbion coughed dryly and sat up.

“See? Your body’s sending you warnings because you don’t eat on time.”

Twella chattered right in his ear.

“Won’t you even respond now? You can hear me. My voice.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Who knows.”

“If you don’t know, fuck off. It’s my own head creating this imagination anyway. Whatever you say, it came from inside my head. You can only say things I already know.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Crazy bitch. No, crazy bastard.”

He chewed and swallowed the apple the bird had brought and went outside.

One, two, three, four. Around here.

When he searched ahead with his stick, he felt warmth along with an acrid smell.

It was the fire he’d lit last night. If his eyes worked, he would have seen logs holding faint embers.

He put on gloves and felt ahead of him.

He touched a large container. He felt around the surface and found the lid. When he opened it slightly, heat whooshed up.

He poked inside the container with the skewer he’d brought along with the stick. Something went squish as it was pierced.

A smile crossed his face at the savory smell.

There was some burnt smell mixed in, but this was good enough.

The first time he’d steamed potatoes, they’d burned to charcoal and were inedible.

He split the hot potato and placed half beside him. The bird flew over from somewhere.

“Is it good?”

He was curious how it was eating and what the bird looked like, but there was nothing he could do since he couldn’t see.

“But why are you growing so fast?”

Quilbion ran his hand over the bird from head to tail.

When he’d first met it, he thought it had been about 30cm, but now it seemed over 40cm.

Well, pigs also got bigger overnight.

He figured animals were just like that and moved on.

“The potato’s good, want some?”

He shouted in a ringing voice.

Whether it was a person or a goblin watching, he wanted them to come closer and talk to him now.

Recently he’d even thought this.

He wished they’d just talk to him even if they were going to eat him afterward.

His shout scattered into the air but no answer came back.

He finished eating the potato and shoved the unfamiliar vegetables the bird had brought into his mouth.

He returned to the bedroom and felt the wall beside the bed.

Countless scratches brushed against his fingertips.

“Three months have already passed.”

A hollow laugh escaped.

He really was holding on tenaciously.

He sat on the edge of the bed and formed a hand seal. It was the nark check he performed once a day without fail.

The nark was still hardened today.

He giggled while fiddling with it, then grabbed the sharp stone he kept by his pillow.

Then he threw it wildly toward where the window was.

Thunk, the sound of the stone hitting the wall.

“Aaaaaargh! You fucking bastards! Come out, come out! Stop watching and get the fuck out here! Kill me, eat me, pull out my seed! Do whatever you want and come out!”

He tore at his hair while screaming.

“Wow, good job. But what a shame. If you’d thrown it a bit to the left, you would’ve broken the window. Ah! You can’t see, right? Hehe.”

Twella’s voice came through between the screams.

“Just die, how about that? You’ve done enough. Poor Quil, pitiful Quil. Quil who was abandoned by me.”

Quilbion flailed both hands. He felt like he’d caught the fantasy his brain created.

He grabbed her neck and shook it mercilessly.

Die, please just die!

“Stupid. You think I’ll die from that?”

The scattered Twella laughed kekeke and gradually faded.

Quilbion knelt with his head against the floor.

“Please, someone…”

It was when he was sobbing with his body curled up.

His sharpened hearing caught footsteps.

Thinking it was a hallucination, he jerked his head up and concentrated.

The sound of stepping on twisted wooden planks was gradually getting closer.

It wasn’t a hallucination. There was something outside.

Quilbion scrambled up but his feet got tangled and he fell. He pressed his stinging wrist against the floor and crawled toward the door.

“I don’t know who you are, but please talk to me!”

He shouted while going outside the door, afraid they might disappear.

He felt a presence.

There was something right in front of him.

An animal? A goblin? Or a person?

“Anybody’s fine, just answer. This isn’t a fantasy, right? Hey, hey!”

He called out to the pitch-black darkness.

“It took a bit of time, but at least you survived.”

A deep voice came from the other side.