Chapter 58

The sun rose.

He killed a goblin.

The sun set.

He crushed a goblin.

He continued the simple repetitive labor. Just like when he’d fed pigs, he faithfully and properly caught and killed goblins.

“Are you sad?”

Twella asked. After pondering for a while, Quilbion pulled out a goblin’s tongue and said,

“I don’t know.”

“Then are you happy?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“How are you now?”

“What am I?”

Twella approached closely. Somehow there was a nostalgic scent. She whispered in a sweet voice.

“Then shall we die now?”

Quilbion wrapped the pulled-out tongue around Twella’s neck. Then he pulled with all his strength.

“No. I don’t want that.”

How many times day and night changed, Quilbion couldn’t tell. The concept of time itself had disappeared from his head long ago.

Killing, killing, killing again.

Only when even the goblins’ shadows were no longer visible did Quilbion return to the tree.

To the tree where the hammock waited.

“Damn it.”

The hammock had rotted and broken.

How many more years had passed?

He leaned his body against the branch and closed his eyes.

Even when he closed them, sleep wouldn’t come. Still, the world turned black, so his mind felt at ease.

No goblins visible either, so what should he do now?

Screeee.

A sharp cry poured down from the distant sky. It was grating noise.

He clicked his tongue and lay on his side.

The cry came again.

“Go away. Don’t make a racket.”

He curled up his body.

He wouldn’t move for a while. Whether it would be days or months, he didn’t know.

It was a body that didn’t need to eat or shit. If he set his mind to it, he could live like a plant.

It was when he stopped thinking while staring at the darkness spread before his eyes.

A faint green flame flickered before his eyes.

He opened just one eye cautiously.

A hawk with folded wings was tilting its head and looking at him.

Was it the one crying noisily from the sky?

“If you eat me, you’ll get an upset stomach. Go peck at something else.”

He waved his hand dismissively and tried to turn his body when he opened both eyes.

The hawk’s size was a bit strange. It was big enough to easily snatch up a fully grown pig.

It wasn’t a goblin. He didn’t feel sticky nark.

“What did you eat to grow so big? You were so small.”

He grimaced while speaking with a hollow laugh.

You were so small?

The words popped out as if he’d known it from before. He examined the hawk again. It was a bird not in his memory. If he’d seen such a large bird, he wouldn’t have forgotten.

No, that’s not right.

He almost made a mistake again. The most unreliable thing in the world was his own memory.

“Hey.”

He wiggled his finger. The hawk waddled over.

“You know me, right?”

The hawk’s beak touched his hand. A hard yet rough texture. His hand moved on its own. He stroked the beak and tapped the round head.

This feeling was very familiar.

“Seems we were close.”

The hawk moved its large body and squeezed into his embrace. Even with its wings folded, it was bigger than Quilbion’s torso.

“Hey, hey.”

Stiff feathers mercilessly scratched his face. It stung as if clawed by talons.

The hawk pressed close and trembled its body, then soon drooped its head.

This guy fell asleep already.

It wouldn’t budge even when he tried to push it away.

“Fine, at least you sleep comfortably.”

It was when he fidgeted and readjusted his posture. Quilbion confirmed something hanging from the hawk’s ankle.

What was wrapped around the ankle was a small pendant. A smooth teardrop-shaped ornament.

His gaze was captured.

A moment from the past painted black and no longer viewable flashed.

The small hawk that had thrown him apples.

The memory gained viscosity. Memories that had been fragmented and couldn’t be viewed coherently gathered in one place.

Memories clung thickly to a single incident.

Because the memories weren’t arranged chronologically, it was difficult to grasp what they meant.

“Don’t recall it.”

Twella, who’d been quiet for a while, appeared. She kept coaxing. It’ll only be painful, forget the past, you have to look forward.

Twella’s voice seeped between the memories gathering together.

The memories lost their viscosity again and scattered. They dispersed into his darkly dyed head like stars in the night sky.

He felt certain that if he let go now, it would be irreversible.

Quilbion swung his left hand and struck Twella’s phantom. The fantasy that should have shattered and disappeared on any other day stubbornly clung today.

She appeared on the right.

No, she appeared again on the left too.

Quilbion rolled his eyes.

Dozens of phantoms with Twella’s face exhaled sweet breaths while extending both arms.

They said in unison, “Forget.”

The world flipped. Intense light blinded his eyes. When he opened his tightly shut eyes again, he was sitting in a pub.

“What are you doing, not drinking?”

Drich said while offering a cup.

“……”

Quilbion raised his right hand and swept back his bangs. It felt like there was an important promise, but what was it?

“Hey. What’s wrong? Is there really some problem?”

Drich made a serious expression.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I feel like there was an important promise, but I can’t remember.”

“A promise? What is it? Something work-related? No, if it was something like that, I’d know.”

“Exactly.”

Drich chuckled, then tapped the bar to call the owner.

“One glass of the really strong stuff, please.”

The shop owner poured amber liquor into a small glass.

“Drink.”

“I’m not in the mood to drink.”

“That’s why you need to drink even more. From what I see, you’re not drunk enough.”

Quilbion fixed his gaze on the liquor. It was a reasonable statement. Because he was half-drunk, reason and instinct were playing tug-of-war creating pointless worries.

A problem that would be solved if he got properly drunk.

He reached out his hand and grabbed the glass.

“Drink.”

Quilbion brought the glass to his mouth. Now he just had to tip it and he’d say goodbye to his worries.

He’d become dead drunk, walk the streets with Drich, then lie in bed and fall into cozy sleep.

Cozy sleep……

“Wait a minute.”

Quilbion looked at Drich.

“Fuck, can I even sleep?”

He slammed down the glass with a thud and stood up from the chair.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong again?”

“Shut up. I think I’m about to remember.”

“Remember what?”

Quilbion pointed his finger at Drich’s forehead.

“Right, yeah. You died.”

“What?”

“I said you died. With a hole in your head. Right, you were dead. I forgot this?”

“……”

Drich grinned, then shrugged his shoulders.

“So what?”

Drich’s face melted. Flesh dripped down, then soon changed to a different form.

It was Twella.

She was wearing baggy pants and work clothes. When he blinked once, it had changed to an alluring dress.

He closed his eyes and opened them again.

She was in front of him wearing black robes.

“Quil, poor Quil. Why are you obsessing over the past? Remembering it will only be painful. Leave what’s passed as it is. That’s for your……”

Thwack!

Quilbion rotated his body and kicked Twella’s face. Twella’s body with her head blown off slowly collapsed to the floor.

“Too talkative.”

He looked at the pub floor stained with blood, then turned his head left.

Not only the bar table, but the faces of all the customers sitting inside the shop had changed to Twella.

She wore different clothes and made different gestures, but the form of her smile was identically creepy.

“Gone crazy.”

He turned around and grabbed the door handle.

Then all the Twellas in the shop shouted.

“You’ll come back anyway! You’re a human broken beyond repair. You have no hope.”

Quilbion looked at the Twella right behind him and said,

“I know.”

He pulled the door handle with all his strength while looking at Twella transforming into a bizarre form.

“……”

The scenery changed.

It was a world covered in gray.

Quilbion knew this place.

He bent his waist and touched the gray sand. Fine particles remained on his fingertips before scattering in the wind.

He brushed off his hands and walked.

It was a quiet place.

A world filled only with silence, without auditory or visual hallucinations.

Quilbion traced through his memories. The disorderly mixed memories were gradually finding their places.

“I think there was someone here too.”

It was when he continued walking while scratching his head.

He saw a person crouching in the distance.

“Hey.”

He called out with his voice. But there was no response. Couldn’t they hear?

“Can’t you hear me?”

He walked slowly, then gradually increased his speed.

“Hey!”

It was strange. He was half-running, but the distance to the person far away wasn’t closing.

He bent his waist and exhaled rough breaths.

How long had it been since he’d gasped for breath?

It was when he walked again while feeling dizziness that made his vision spin.

Something grabbed his ankle.

When he lowered his head, a hand that had emerged through the ground was grabbing his ankle.

The gray sand trembled finely, then Twella’s face rose from beneath. She was smiling brightly.

“Really creepy.”

His body was being sucked below the sand.

The person in the distance finally turned their body and looked at Quilbion.

It was a woman with a blurry face.

The woman ran toward him. But her running wasn’t very smooth.

She staggered, then collapsed right there.

Her leg seemed badly injured—she couldn’t stand up again.

Quilbion grimaced.

He knows.

That all of this is a fantasy.

That woman who’s barely visible over there, the Twella pulling him underground now, this entirely gray world—all of it was arbitrarily created by his broken head.

He knew that, but still, he felt pity.

“Just lie down. Your leg seems to hurt too.”

The woman far away shook her head vigorously, then crawled while sweeping the ground with both arms.

That’ll scrape her skin and hurt.

“Stubborn friend.”

He giggled while looking at Twella below.

Quilbion’s body was already submerged below ground up to his waist. Twella was grinning with her mouth wide open, so happy about something.

“You like it? Huh?”

Twella didn’t answer.

She only smiled an even more grotesque smile.

If he gets dragged underground, he’ll open his eyes, right? Then would he forget what he’d barely remembered and go back to catching goblins?

How many years?

Or how many decades?

“……Should I just end it now like you said?”

He was submerged in the ground up to his chest.

Everything became bothersome. Thinking, ruminating, sensing.

If you think about it, I endured well alone.

I survived to the point of tedium.

If this is the result of enduring and enduring, ending it now wouldn’t be bad either.

The sand trapped him up to below his nose.

It wasn’t suffocating.

Rather, it was cozy.

If I rest briefly like this, everything will……

“I’m sorry!”

It was a word that instantly awakened his dulled senses.

“I had no choice!”

At the voice from behind, Quilbion opened his eyes.

His heart, which had been dyed in tranquility, violently shook.

He reached out his hand and grabbed Twella’s head. Then he listened carefully. She wasn’t smiling with her mouth open.

She was whispering diligently in a very small voice. Give up, rest, stop.

“You’re really a vicious person.”

He shoved Twella’s head down into the ground while putting strength into his body. His body submerged in the sand rose up in one breath.

His mind snapped clear.

He’d desperately survived and lived until now, and she’s telling him to give up?

To quit because there’s no hope?

“Bullshit! I’ll live until I die.”

It was when he shouted toward the sky then recalled the voice that awakened his mind.

That woman.

It was when he turned around recalling the woman who’d been crawling from far away.

Screeee.

Along with a sharp cry, his eyes snapped open.

The hawk was looking at him while rolling its sharp eyes around. It slightly opened its beak and dropped what it had been holding.

What rolled and arrived in front of Quilbion’s hand was a blackened coffee bean.

“……Damn coffee.”

He remembered.