chapter 9:The Alchemist's Elixir(3)
Roberta flinched and pulled her hand back, looking at the fingers that had touched the Lord's wound. Not a single drop of blood stained them. Even though the sensation of parting his flesh had been chillingly vivid,
the wound healed the moment her fingers withdrew. It left not even a trace that it had ever been there. If not for the hole the dagger had pierced in his clothes and the blood the monster had spewed, no one would have noticed anything amiss.
She felt both shock and confusion.
How could this be?
The injuries should have been instantly fatal. His neck had been torn open, leaving a hole large enough for a fist; his side had been stabbed and twisted to the skin. They were wounds that would have killed him before treatment could even be considered.
Yet Ulrich was alive, and his wounds had healed in an instant.
Was it possible for wounds to heal this quickly?
Roberta thought of Alonso. A master of healing magic, one of the best in the Pantheon, might be able to. But even he couldn't make spilled blood return or heal a wound without leaving a single scar. Alonso's healing magic was closer to accelerating the body's natural recovery.
Ulrich, on the other hand, felt as if he were reverting to a time before he was injured. As if turning back time, or as if his existence were fixed at a certain point.
"Hh, hhh..."
A ragged breath drew her gaze.
The old man named Rashid was collapsed beside the corpse of the monster that had once been his son's body, looking up at the Lord. The white-haired old man was bleeding ceaselessly from a blade wound, soaking the office floor.
Ulrich approached him and knelt on one knee.
"Do you still believe that thing is your son?"
With half-lidded eyes, Rashid gazed at the ceiling and let out a long sigh. The man who had radiated an obsession so fierce he'd attacked the Lord had finally let it go, transforming into a frail old man on the verge of death.
"My son... is he dead?"
"Yes. A very long time ago."
"Then what is that?"
"A bug. One that lives inside a host, like a parasite."
A bug. Mulling over the word, Rashid spoke.
"It's hard to understand. How can a bug be a person..."
"You know of Yoanina's Doll, don't you? It's like that."
Yoanina's Doll—it was an old paradox.
During the time of the second human empire, there was a sorceress. Her name was Yoanina, and it is said she saved her country by commanding a doll made of steel.
When she died, the citizens displayed the doll she had left behind—which no one else could control—in the public square. But because the doll was made of steel, it corroded over time, and whenever it did, the corroded parts had to be removed and replaced with new ones.
Yoanina's Doll—it was an old paradox.
During the time of the second human empire, there was a sorceress. Her name was Yoanina, and it is said she saved her country by commanding a doll made of steel.
When she died, the citizens displayed the doll she had left behind—which no one else could control—in the public square. But because the doll was made of steel, the citizens would boast to every foreigner who passed through the square that they possessed the original artifact. Then one day, a foreigner heard their story and asked.
- Yoanina's Doll is from more than a hundred years ago, is it not? How many times have you replaced its parts? When every component of the doll has been replaced with something new, and not a single part touched by the sorceress's hands remains, can you still call this her doll?
As if he knew the story, Rashid let out a short sigh. "Ah."
"Was my son replaced?"
"To be precise, his corpse was replaced."
Ulrich picked up one of the monster's tendrils from the floor.
"You said it yourself. You gave him the medicine after he stopped breathing, and he didn't wake up right away. Why didn't he? Because this thing needed time to grow, to take root and control the body. Your son never came back to life. A bug merely used his corpse as a host and exploited his remaining memories to use you."
"I... I've been wrong my whole life."
Rashid continued, breathing raggedly.
"I believed my son had come back to life, but he was never my son from the start. It wasn't that something went wrong and he went astray... it's because he was never my son to begin with..."
"I couldn't let my son die a second time. I couldn't let him die again after my greed brought him back... I couldn't. That's why I did what I did to you, over and over again."
A wrinkled hand grabbed Ulrich's arm.
"I have sinned. But my son... if the monster only wore his shell, then my son is without sin, isn't he...?"
"If it wasn't your son, it wasn't his sin."
"Then... did my boy go to heaven? Like his mother?"
There was an answer.
Roberta recalled what Ulrich had said the day they first met. He had said he would rather not answer than tell a lie.
"Please, tell me."
The hand gripping Ulrich's arm tightened, trembling.
"Heaven does not exist. Death is the end, in and of itself."
"The end... the end?"
"There is nothing after death."
"But what about the soul? Doesn't the soul reincarnate?"
"That, too, is different from what you believe."
"...It's hard to believe."
The trembling spread through his entire body. He was struggling against the death at his doorstep, desperate to hear what he wanted to hear. Ulrich removed the old man's hand and placed his own on his forehead. Only then did the trembling subside.
"If there are no gods, no heaven, no souls, then what is this world?"
"A harsh world. In this world where the masters of the Heavens have departed and the order they created runs rampant, it's inevitable that you would be deluded by the illusion of eternity."
Ulrich said in a low voice.
"But do not worry. Your son died only once. The sins committed after his death were not his, and he suffered no pain."
"I, see."
Rashid relaxed his grip, relieved. His breathing slowed.
"I should have listened."
The light faded from his eyes, and his open mouth began to dry. The death he had so long deferred finally claimed the old man. Ulrich closed his eyes for him.
"So, I see."
Rashid relaxed his grip, relieved. His breathing slowed.
The light faded from his eyes, and his open mouth began to dry. The death he had so long deferred finally claimed the old man. Ulrich closed his eyes for him.
A long silence followed in the office.
Roberta stood there blankly. Despite the commotion, the hallway was quiet. Whether they hadn't heard the noise or had heard and ignored it, no one came. She looked at Ulrich, wondering what to do now.
"Roberta."
"Yes, Lord."
Ulrich said as he slowly stood up.
"If you have something to ask, ask now. It's not a pleasant topic for later, so I'd rather get it over with."
Things to ask? There was a mountain of them. The questions surrounding the Lord only ever grew; they never lessened. How did he know the boy's true identity? How did he recover from his wounds? There were many such questions, but the most pressing concerned his remarks about heaven and the soul.
According to the scriptures, the Heavens are where the gods departed to, and hell is where the gods were banished. It is also said that when a person dies, their soul is judged as good or evil and sent to heaven or hell.
Ulrich had denied this. He had asserted that, if not the soul, then at least heaven did not exist. This was a graver matter than his unauthorized performance of the Infant Sacrament.
But after a moment's thought, she shook her head.
"No. It's all right."
"You must have more than one or two questions."
"That's true. But... I don't think I should know right now."
He raised his head, and their eyes met. No matter how many times she looked, he had the appearance of a man her age, yet she felt the weight of years in that face.
That was why she didn't ask.
Wouldn't it feel like this, standing before a snake's den? Like having to reach in to catch a snake, not knowing if there truly is a viper inside, or what kind it might be. You could only find out by plunging your hand in.
And if she asked, plunging her hand into the den, he would answer with the truth. The problem was what came next. The question of whether she could accept it would remain. How could she know what answer she would receive? What if he told her a truth that would shatter her common sense to its very foundations? What would she do?
She decided to postpone it for a while.
Not yet, at least. Even if she had to make a decision someday, now, when she barely knew him, was not the time. She soothed and suppressed her desire and her duty.
"You really are alike."
Ulrich watched her and gave a faint smile.
"I told you before, didn't I? That you're like Alonso. He was the same. So full of curiosity, yet so careful about asking me questions. He said it felt like putting his hand into a snake's den."
She flinched.
"Come to think of it, everyone who stayed by my side for a long time was like that. Hilde, too, only asked at the very end. To me, it's nothing special... but you all were always so careful about asking."
Ulrich lightly shook a bell that was on his desk. As if on cue, the sound of long strides began to approach from the end of the hall.
Roberta was certain it was the sound of the butler, Bernhardt, approaching.
"Roberta, do you know how many priestesses there were between your predecessor and Alonso? If you don't, you should check. I think you'll be able to stay for a long time."
The incident passed quietly.
The matter of the Lord being attacked by a guest in his office was met with silence, despite the office having become a sea of blood. If such an incident had occurred at the Nua Grand Temple, even the serfs would have been in an uproar, gossiping about it. But Dithmarschen was quiet.
This didn't mean that loose lips were being tightly controlled. Roberta saw the servants discussing the day's events among themselves. But their reactions were lukewarm.
The Lord was attacked, they say.
"Oh. Is that so."
What kind of place is this?
That was how much the incident mattered to the people of Dithmarschen. She felt foolish for having made a fuss all by herself, worrying that things would be in an uproar for a while.
*Are they like their Lord?*
Why were they so nonchalant? Was it because they were close to the Ice Peninsula, where the flow of Mana was strong, and so they encountered all sorts of strange things? Or was it because of the very existence of that Lord?
She thought both were true, but that the Lord was the weightier reason.
Because he was a truly strange person.
And in the spring of the following year, a letter from Alonso arrived.
The letter, which began with greetings, was filled halfway with reminiscences of his own appointment to Dithmarschen. It was such a pointless preamble that even she, who had been reading the letter with pleasure, found her expression turning bored.
••…I have read the letter sent by Ulrich-nim. He praised you. You have done well. Roberta, I know this may be hard for you to hear, but I hope you will stay by Ulrich-nim's side for a very long time. If he takes a liking to you, he will remain in that position as long as you are there.
I will not answer the question you sent. My predecessor, Klemens, knew too much. I hope you do not meet the same end as he did.
We sometimes become so engrossed in the answer that we forget the enlightenment the process provides. Why do you think thirteen Priestesses have come and gone between you and me? Of them, twelve were because they could not find or would not accept the answer. The one, Klemens, knew and accepted the answer, but that was because His Holiness taught it to him. And because of that, he was blinded.
Remember that the reason you are in that position is the result of that.
You must be getting arrogant by now, thinking you've adapted to life there and know enough. But what you know is a very, extremely small part of the whole. Even less than a blind man feeling an elephant.
So, do not rashly try to peek at the answer. Do not try to see him through the answer; I hope that in the process of finding the answer, you come to understand what kind of person he is.
You will be able to do it, for you are more like me than your mother. Also, I hope you will write often. Ulrich-nim is writing more frequently than you are.
In the autumn of Nua. Alonso
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