Chapter 352: I’m No Talent Like That

“You’re right. It’s been a while.”

Hien smiled back faintly.

“I appreciate you showing me around last time.”

“Don’t mention it.”

There was no way I could refuse after you asked so nicely.

Hien recalled his first encounter with the old man before him. He remembered the conversation with the audacious old man who had nonchalantly strolled into the Demon King’s castle and addressed the demons as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

***

When a flock of crows, their origin unknown, formed a dark curtain, Hien instinctively knew Deon Hart was dead and left. Truth be told, he’d wanted to leave the moment Deon had pressed the blade to his own throat, so he hadn’t hesitated at all.

He knew he couldn’t stop Deon’s death, and he certainly couldn’t bear to watch it happen.

Hien had briefly glanced around, wondering if the two high-ranking demons would intervene. But Ed and Ben, blocked by the crows, were focused on reaching Deon Hart. They saw Hien slip away, but ignored it.

And so, Hien left that suffocating space without interruption, making his way to none other than the former Commander of the 5th Corps, Oel’s, warehouse.

‘……I don’t know much about human culture.’

He remembered once giving flowers that had bloomed on a ‘grave’ to Sir Deon, only to be scolded by Sir Ed afterward. It was then he’d learned about human customs regarding death and the treatment of corpses.

‘Sir Deon is human.’

So, his body should be handled according to human customs.

Lady Oel, with her insatiable curiosity, had always shown a keen interest in the Human Realm. Surely, there would be something related to human customs in her warehouse.

Grateful to Derniban for preserving the former legion commander’s warehouse so perfectly, Hien began to rummage through it.

He paused, his gaze drawn to a book, and reached out for it.

“This is….”

…a botanical book about plants from the Human Realm. I should grab this, just in case.

And right beside it was a book about Human Realm funeral customs. With the botanical guide tucked under his arm, Hien picked it up.

Just then, a voice came from behind him.

“Well, this is unexpected. I didn’t think there’d be a demon interested in such things.”

……!

“Oh, pardon me. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The voice and demeanor were exceedingly polite.

This was definitely the Demon King’s castle. Yet, to his surprise, when he turned, a ‘human’ stood there. Hien quietly clenched his fist, trying to appear nonchalant as he spoke.

“Who…?”

“This old man is called Rememver. I’ve come to collect the body of someone dear to me.”

He’d grown too attached to pretend he didn’t know.

A faint sadness tinged the voice that muttered ruefully. He didn’t seem to be an enemy, so Hien relaxed his tense posture, though he remained cautiously alert.

“Someone dear…?”

“I imagine you know who I mean. Aren’t you looking for books like these for the same reason?”

“……Ah, could it be.”

“Yes.”

Deon Hart.

“I know of a suitable place for his grave.”

…….

“Could you lead me to where the body is?”

***

Thanks to him, they had been able to create a grave for Sir Deon. Hien smiled brightly.

“Actually, we should be thanking you. Thanks to you, we were able to make a grave for Sir Deon in the most fitting place.”

“I appreciate you saying that.”

Rememver offered a gentle smile in response to the sincere words. After a moment, his gaze flickered towards something in the distance.

“…Looks like someone else is coming.”

Ben, who had been walking towards them from afar, spotted Rememver and halted in his tracks, a sight visible to everyone.

They probably had their own conversation to have. Time for him to make himself scarce. Rememver started walking again.

“This old man would only be in the way if I stayed. I’ll take my leave.”

He gave Ben a quick nod of acknowledgement as he passed, then started down the mountainside, practically gliding. Ed watched him disappear in an instant, then turned his attention to Ben.

“So, how are those crazy… Lofty bastards doing?”

Ben had made it his mission to keep an eye on the Lofty Knights. Every time he left the Demon King’s castle, he’d check on them. No doubt this time would be no different.

As expected, Ben’s reply was nonchalant.

“Couldn’t get too close to be sure, but they seemed alright from a distance. Heard they’re raising a kid now.”

“Good to hear. But why… are you packing?”

“Heard they’re heading to Esperance.”

I don’t know if I can catch up to them, but I should at least try.

Ben mumbled, scribbling a rough list of supplies needed to cross the mountain range onto a piece of paper.

Esperance was a difficult place for a demon to navigate, both geographically and politically, with its notoriously tight security. Ben knew it would be a pain, but he wasn’t about to give up. Lofty and his group had been the exception, the only thing Deon had ever truly cared about, despite his best efforts not to get attached to anyone or anything.

As the incompetent physician who’d failed to save his patient, he had to at least look out for ‘Lofty’.

“Guess we won’t be seeing each other for a while.”

“Yeah, well.”

But no matter how difficult or how long it would take, Ed wouldn’t try to stop him.

Just like Ed had become the keeper of Deon’s grave, looking after Lofty was Ben’s only way to atone.

He’d rushed to find the ‘Lofty’ mercenary group the moment he’d heard the news, and since then, the physician who had been periodically disappearing was now preparing to leave for good, his silence a form of tacit resignation.

“And besides, they’re still calling themselves ‘Lofty’. Those guys have a knack for making enemies. I can’t just leave them to their own devices. It’s got to be done.”

He was sure of it, having already intervened personally to stop several threats against them.

Ben shook his head as if he had a headache, though a faint smile played on his lips. Ed, watching him, spoke quietly, his reply a beat late.

“Yeah, well… it’s not really my place to say, but I hope you make it back in one piece.”

“…You act like I’m walking into my own grave.”

He grumbled, but he understood Ed’s sentiment and couldn’t bring himself to argue.

Having already lost so many, the soft-hearted demon beneath the gruff exterior probably didn’t want to lose even him, one of the few connections he had left. Ben’s lips moved as if to say something, but he turned his head away instead.

…Well, at least there’s that incubus who followed Ed all the way to the Human Realm. Maybe things would be alright.

“I’m here.”

“Aiga.”

On the day the borders between realms had begun to close, the incubus, sensing something amiss, had rushed to the Demon King’s castle and crossed over to the Human Realm with them. Now, he stood there, waving with a bright smile. Ed’s expression softened slightly at the sight.

“Heard you went to visit the Lord Demon King’s grave.”

“There was nothing else I could do.”

“That’s my job. You should find something else to occupy your time.”

“But I want to help you.”

…….

Hien, who had been observing the exchange, joined the conversation.

“I was thinking of planting some flowers around the grave here. Would you like to help? You used to be a gardening assistant at the Demon King’s castle, so I bet you’d be good at it.”

“Yeah. That sounds better than doing nothing.”

“Really? Alright, let’s do it then.”

The brief disagreement quickly dissolved into agreement. In the meantime, Ben tucked the supply list into his pocket and stood up.

They weren’t parting forever, and they weren’t the type for sappy goodbyes. He turned and walked away without another word.

‘I should just pack my bags and leave right away.’

Esperance was going to be a pain. He was already bracing himself for hardship. Was there any useful information he could recall about the place?

Ah, right. There was one interesting tidbit of information, though it wasn’t exactly useful. Ben smirked to himself, recalling the utterly impractical fact.

‘I heard there is a tree in Esperance that grants wishes.’

…Maybe I should wish for those Lofty bastards to stay healthy.

***

The old man, once a powerful sorcerer, had lived in torment ever since Deon Hart and Dan’s last visit to the village.

[You are the one who made me like this.]

…The voice was always there, echoing in his mind. Plugging his ears was pointless.

The biggest mistake the senile old man had made, driven mad by the shocking information he’d glimpsed, was to relentlessly, tirelessly repeat his curse, moment after moment.

[I will not kill you. You must live and watch me realize your prophecy.]

Sometimes, he hallucinated. He’d see a young man with a cruel smile, eyes narrowed in false friendliness, spitting out venomous words.

Daily life was impossible.

The words themselves were suffocatingly painful, and the image of those eyes was burned into his mind.

[So live in guilt for the rest of your life.]

Eventually, the old man had lived out the curse, forced to witness the prophecy come to pass. Only then, crushed by guilt, had he finally succumbed and taken his own life.

The cause of death was suicide.

***

[There is a tree in Esperance that grants wishes.]

Death took a step, considering the rumor that had been quietly spreading for some time now.

He knew the true nature of the tree. He knew who had planted it, and he also knew who had started the rumor.

Ignoring the former for now, the latter two were the same person.

‘A human who read the will of the world and moved accordingly.’

He’d been wanting to meet this person and have a conversation for a while now. So, when Death realized that someone connected to this human was calling for him, he immediately went to find them.

With a single step, space shifted. He emerged calmly from a flock of crows in a completely different location, his eyes meeting those of a woman who was cradled a lifeless old man in her arms.

A tense silence fell between them as their eyes met. Then, Death’s gaze dropped to the lifeless form in her arms.

“…A skilled sorcerer has died…”

His eyes flicked back up, scrutinizing the woman as if dissecting her.

“…and a skilled one remains.”

Even without any particular intent, his gaze and voice were profoundly unsettling.

An unsettling fear, inevitable in the presence of such a being, prickled her senses. Sorcerer Ran stood her ground, facing Death, and spoke.

“Have you come to collect my grandmother’s soul?”

“For now, yes.”

He wanted to talk to her more, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

Ignoring her wary gaze, Death strode forward and collected the old man’s soul with a flourish. Contrary to his expectation that she might try to interfere or delay him, the sorcerer, choosing not to defy fate, simply watched with a bitter expression.

The ensuing silence was broken when Death spoke.

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Did you know the true nature of ‘it’?”

He had a general idea, but he’d wanted to ask directly for a long time.

As expected, the answer came immediately.

“Yes, to some extent.”

She knew that the sapling of the ‘wish-granting tree’ was a device set up by the world to give birth to a god.

As the world matured and stabilized, it would birth a god. In the past, when the world had neared completion, it had bestowed a seed upon the fairy race. That seed had then passed to a demon gardener, from the gardener to Deon Hart, and finally, as a sapling, it had ended up in Esperance, placed there by the sorcerer.

Death nodded.

“…Makes sense. So you’re the one who spread those ‘rumors’.”

Human belief was fertilizer and foundation for birthing a god. The rumor about the ‘wish-granting tree’ would be excellent fertilizer.

What was she hoping to gain by appeasing the world? He narrowed his eyes, studying her, but her placid expression revealed nothing.

In the end, Death, who had other places to be anyway, turned away without gaining any insight.

After that.

A sorcerer had emerged, wielding considerable power granted by the world.

Her abilities were such that she could deceive Death’s sight and hide from him. It was the start of a relentless game of hide-and-seek.

***

Rememver, Ed, Ben, Hien, and even Aiga were gone. A figure stepped into the deserted graveside.

The figure moved silently, reaching out to pick up the untitled book from in front of Deon Hart’s tombstone. He flipped through the pages with a rustle, then a soft snort of derision echoed in the stillness.

“Pathetic.”

Is it because Deon Hart didn’t write it himself? There are so many fabrications to force coherence, so many loopholes.

And it’s so relentlessly heavy from beginning to end…

“Who would read this kind of thing?”

Death tapped the cover of the book with his finger.

“Well… ‘Deon Hart’ was a special human, even to me. Maybe I’ll revise it, just this once.”

A pen appeared at his fingertips.

Because the one revising it was a being who knew the lives of every living thing on earth, the pen moved across the page without hesitation.

“The beginning should be lighter, I think.”

Since the main character’s life is mostly tragedy, the only part that can be light is the beginning. It’s best to revise it to be as light and carefree as possible, making it easy to pick up.

“Guess I should make the title light as well.”

After all, this is supposed to be a book in the form of a ‘novel.’ A novel needs a title that grabs your attention. What’s the point if it doesn’t even have a title?

The light title and opening need to make people turn the first page, and then keep turning.

Death scribbled a bit more with his pen, then placed the book back, looking somewhat satisfied, as if the revisions were complete. A lighter voice echoed in the space.

“Now, someone will remember you without any distortions.”

This should be a sufficient reward for a soul that made such a lasting impression right until the end.

“Well then, I’ll look forward to seeing you again someday.”

Death turned away and left without a hint of lingering attachment.

In the now silent space, only a single book remained. On its cover, newly inscribed with an author and title, were these words:

[I’m No Talent Like That]

[Author: Rememver (re-mem-be-r)]