Chapter 72

He was sitting on the driver’s seat.

After holding the reins and stopping for a moment, he came to his senses at a voice calling from the carriage.

“Hey, is something wrong?”

Quilbion lifted his hat slightly and turned around. He could see eyes through the small window in the carriage.

“A stray dog ran out. I stopped briefly in case the horses got startled.”

“I see.”

“If I provoke it, it might charge and cause problems, so I’ll wait a bit before departing.”

“Do as you see fit. However, if you’re late……”

“We’ll arrive at the campsite soon, so don’t worry.”

The eyes that had been glaring through the small window disappeared. Quilbion pressed down his hat and looked ahead.

Was he a coachman today?

After taking a deep breath, he pressed it down deep into his lungs. Now he just had to hold it until he lost consciousness.

After about 2 minutes, his vision went dark.

Soon he would wake from his mental entity and open his eyes in his main body.

That’s what he believed.

Puha!

Quilbion expelled his breath violently. He was still sitting on the driver’s seat.

He was bewildered.

Recognize it’s a crack, then return to the main body.

It was a process he’d repeated hundreds, thousands of times. There hadn’t been a single failure. Whenever he decided to return, he always opened his eyes in his main body.

“Still?”

A displeased voice flowed from inside the carriage. Quilbion answered “I’ll depart now” for the moment and urged the horses on.

He thought for a long while on the rattling driver’s seat.

Why couldn’t he return?

He continued holding his breath while heading toward the destination of Bund. Even pushing himself to the verge of fainting, far from escaping the crack, only his physical condition worsened.

Suddenly this thought occurred to him.

Could it be…… had he dreamed an absurdly long dream?

The sun was setting beyond the snow-capped mountains visible in the distance. He recalled the campsite not far away.

He flicked the reins. He had to hurry to arrive before the sun completely set.

Harmonious laughter seeped between the sounds of the carriage wheels rolling.

Riding in the carriage were a middle-aged couple and two daughters.

The employer who’d boasted proudly about going to meet a famous violin instructor, and the wife who’d given him looks telling him to tone it down.

The woman who seemed to be the eldest daughter had boarded the carriage with a beaming smile while hugging an instrument case, and the woman who seemed to be the second daughter had gotten in with a thoroughly displeased face.

“What’s what?”

The vividly arising memories were only about ‘this place.’ Memories of ‘that place’ were gradually evaporating.

A world where strange monsters ran rampant and wielded bizarre powers. Moreover, his body transforming into a centipede?

Quilbion let out a dry laugh.

No matter how he thought about it, it seemed like a nonsense dream.

Lights were visible in the distance.

It was a campsite used by people traveling between cities. As he approached, an armed man came over and held out his hand. When he placed three coins on the hand, the man said “Good work” and stepped aside.

“We’ll stay here tonight.”

The employer began lowering the sleeping bags loaded in the back of the carriage. The wife and two daughters received the sleeping bags and set up in an open area.

If they could afford to hire a music instructor, it meant they had ample wealth, but disliking unnecessary expenses, they’d deleted several clauses and lowered the wages when making the employment contract. Providing conveniences was one of them.

An employer who spread out his own bedding.

It was fresh, at least.

Early summer.

Even with just thin blankets, they could manage to avoid the dawn cold. With sleeping bags, they might get hot, but there wouldn’t be any accidents of freezing to death.

He headed toward the center of the campsite, where bonfires were sparsely lit.

People wearing swords, people holding spears, people wearing hats indicating they were coachmen.

They were either staring blankly at the fire with tired faces or gathered in small groups chatting.

Quilbion squeezed in among the coachmen.

“Have a drink.”

An old man with snow-white eyebrows held out a dented cup. The cup was warm. When he took a sip, it was wine with only sourness.

“Want another?”

“I’m fine.”

They seemed to be boiling and roughly drinking wine on the verge of spoiling. It would be good to add fruit and boil it together, but they couldn’t afford such luxury.

“I went to a woodworking shop to repair a broken wheel spoke, but damn if they didn’t double the repair cost saying material prices went up.”

“You got hit too.”

It was when he was listening to the conversation while bringing his canteen to his mouth.

People’s gazes gathered.

“You there……”

It seemed they’d run out of things to talk about.

Quilbion opened his mouth with an awkward smile.

“I’m from Gondi. Please call me Quil.”

“Gondi! That’s a nice place. There aren’t many young guys in this business—is it manageable?”

“It seemed better than being stuck in one place, so I joined a guild, but it’s really not easy.”

“Quit even now. When you’re young, you should do something other than this kind of work.”

Another person opened his mouth while tapping the heavily bearded man who’d laughed heartily.

“Making money is all hard. Still, keep at it. Once you get a route and regular customers, this work becomes manageable too.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to Bund.”

Once mouths opened, all sorts of stories poured out. From unbelievable tales of valor to intimate bedroom stories with women.

“I’ve been having really bad dreams—is this a sign that things won’t work out?”

He brought it up to the other coachmen who’d become like older brothers.

“What is it? Tell us. I’m amazing at dream interpretation.”

“Right, right. We hear a lot of stories as we travel, so we can interpret to some extent. Besides, for professions like ours that carry people, we have to handle such dreams very sensitively.”

Quilbion unfolded the absurd story that had come to mind while driving the carriage.

After listening for a while, the white eyebrows chuckled.

“How long-winded.”

The bearded man picked up the thread.

“If that’s a nonsense dream, it’s top-tier. What? Goblins? Dragons? People dying left and right and traveling alone to strange places? Puhaha!”

“They commonly say dreams are the opposite, so it might be a good omen. Mr. Quilbion, don’t worry too much. Dreams we people have aren’t anything grand. Unless it were a dream had by some famous prophet.”

Quilbion grinned and nodded his head.

“That’s right. Such absurd things couldn’t have happened to me, could they?”

“I have dreams like that sometimes too. I become a great general going to war and winning victory after victory, get three or four gorgeous wives and just!”

The bearded man stood up and enthusiastically swayed his hips.

After laughing and chattering noisily, they left one by one.

Quilbion nodded in greeting to the old man who’d spoken to him first, then returned to the carriage.

The employer’s family was asleep. After quickly checking their complexions, he returned to the driver’s seat.

He wrapped himself in a blanket and closed his eyes.

He waited for sleep to come while checking things he needed to take care of after waking up.

The vermillion firelight caressing his eyelids gradually faded, and the chirping insects joined the silence.

Come on, time to sleep.

He tossed and turned while encouraging himself.

Once to the left, once to the right.

His body was exhausted. His back, which had taken the carriage’s shaking completely, cried out that it wanted to rest now.

Faint sleep definitely came up to his chin, but strangely, he couldn’t fall asleep.

He eventually greeted the morning in a drowsy state.

“Are you alright?”

The employer asked while rolling up the sleeping bag. Quilbion tapped his cheeks and said,

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Tsk tsk. If you received money, you should do whatever it is properly. If you drive the carriage in a tired state and have an accident, could you take responsibility?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll quickly wash my face and pull myself together.”

The wife soothed the displeased employer and led him away. She smiled, saying it was fine and not to worry.

He had to get his mind straight.

He untied the rope fastened to the tree and moved again.

His eyes stung from fatigue, but as expected, sleep didn’t come. At lunch he also tried to catch some shut-eye, but only his nerves grew sharper.

One day, two days, three days.

They arrived in Bund.

Quilbion was staring blankly ahead when he turned his head at a muffled sound.

The employer was looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Do you have something to say……”

“A young guy who’s completely useless. How can you fail at self-management like this?”

“I’m sorry. Still, we arrived without any major accidents, so please relax.”

He should have just apologized and kept his mouth shut, but perhaps because he was on edge, he added unnecessary words.

He thought he’d get another earful, but the employer held out his hand.

“Take it.”

“Pardon?”

“Hurry.”

When he stood there blankly, the employer soon moved his hand directly and pressed something into Quilbion’s hand.

It was money.

“Getting sick while young will be a loss when you’re old. There are many famous pharmacies in Bund, so go find one.”

“Why are you giving this……”

“Because my conscience is pricking me. Anyway, you worked hard.”

He smiled faintly while looking at the coins jingling in his hand.

He returned the carriage to the transport guild. The day would come when he’d buy his own carriage, but it was still a distant story.

Walking the streets with a hazy mind, he found an inn.

He gave the owner the lodging fee and entered the room.

His whole body was heavy. He collapsed on the bed and closed his eyes.

Sleep, sleep, sleep.

Thinking only of that single word, he hoped sweet sleep would come.

“Damn it.”

He spent another day with open eyes.

He reached out to drink water.

Even the water bottle clearly visible on the drawer—he failed to grasp it properly and made several empty-handed attempts.

His condition was terrible.

He had to take on work again in two days.

He came down to the first floor and ate lunch.

He put something in his mouth and chewed, but there was no taste. It wasn’t tasteless from being too salty or lacking seasoning. Perfect blandness.

Had he contracted a fatal illness?

Seized by fear, he found a pharmacy.

He explained his symptoms and received medicine. Along with words to come back if he didn’t improve.

He returned to the inn, tossed the medicine in his mouth, and closed his eyes with a prayerful heart.

The second day since arriving in Bund.

Quilbion was still awake.

He might die.

No, he would definitely die.

“Excuse me.”

The innkeeper asked if he’d stay a few more days, but he couldn’t answer. Words came to mind but wouldn’t combine into sentences.

Had his head completely broken?

After choosing and choosing for a long while, he managed to say “I’ll settle up this afternoon.”

“Your complexion looks really bad.”

It wasn’t a look of worry for the guest, but rather one saying it would be troublesome if he died suddenly in the room.

Quilbion went out to the street.

The voices of passing people all came through garbled.

It was when he was pushing through the murmuring people.

Someone grabbed his shoulder firmly.

“How dare you!”

He took a punch to the jaw that flew without warning.

Before the pain, what filled his head was the expectation that it would be good if he passed out like this.

Unfortunately, his consciousness remained clear.

Was it thanks to getting hit? The blurry view ahead became visible.

There were many people.

Pure white clothing caught his eye.

He’d seen those clothes many times before.

“How dare you block the path!”

Quilbion immediately crouched his body and bowed his head.

He’d remembered.

What the pure white clothing signified.

“I, I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Please forgive me.”

Before him was someone who could brush away a worthless coachman with a mere breath.

He had no choice but to bow and beg forgiveness.

“You’re not the first or second guy like you I’ve seen. Surely to the prophet……”

“That’s enough.”

It was a woman’s voice cutting off the rebuking man’s voice.

Quilbion saw a shadow encroaching on his vision.

“Raise your head.”

It was a voice he couldn’t resist.

He carefully raised his head.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

The woman said while extending her hand.