Like the most basic chords in a song—quiet, soothing, calming the heart.
Drawn by the melody, Orson came to a wooden cabin with its door slightly ajar. He gently pushed it open, stepped inside, and noticed the Elafia girl lying on the bed.
The little deer lay motionless on the bed. After his initial panic, Orson immediately understood that the girl before him was not sleeping, but trapped in a deeper, unconscious coma.
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A simple calendar hung beside the wooden bed, marked in pen with a period of roughly sixty days.
Was that how long she had been unconscious?
Even from so close, Orson still could not sense any "sign of life" from the girl.
But... that melody was still flowing softly.
Like a moth drawn to flame, Orson was captivated by the melody and slowly approached the girl.
A boundless darkness—
He did not know what had happened. By the time he came back to himself, he was already surrounded by endless darkness.
Orson struggled to keep his consciousness from scattering. As he focused his mind, the chaotic darkness began to change.
The infinite blackness gradually arranged itself, like a musical staff, becoming something with rhythm and order.
Then light suddenly burst forth in flashes, forcing Orson to close his eyes against the glare.
When he opened them again, Orson found himself sitting in a dandelion garden.
An endless field of pale green dandelions stretched to the horizon, and beside Orson sat a girl.
"Little Sen, did you get into another fight today?"
The girl was Orson's childhood friend. Pouting indignantly, she questioned Orson, whose head was wrapped in bandages.
"Because those bastards said you were a short-lived freak who wouldn't live long! If I don't teach them a lesson, they'll say whatever they want!"
Orson clenched his fists in outrage, while the girl burst into laughter.
"They weren't wrong, though. Anyway, Little Sen, why don't you try treating this world more kindly? If you approach it with goodwill, maybe you'll find some unexpected beautiful things~"
The girl smiled as she offered Orson her advice, but he still frowned deeply.
"That's not how it works... This world isn't that simple. Kind people, even someone like you who smiles at everyone, don't get anything in return. So I'd rather—"
Before he could finish, the girl tightly grasped his hand.
"No. I won't stop your 'evil,' because that is how you chose to survive. But don't sacrifice your kindness for my sake, Little Sen. It isn't worth it."
The girl smiled at Orson, but for some reason, he could not see her face clearly. A breeze sent dandelions floating through the air, soft and hazy like a white curtain.
"Go seek something better. Seek someone for whom you would be willing to give up everything, even this gentleness."
"Wait—"
When he came back to himself, the dandelion garden from the dream had vanished. The white fluff had turned into cold snowflakes.
"What was that... huh?"
Orson's consciousness returned to the cabin at the edge of the camp. After a brief sense of loss, he suddenly realized that, at some point, he had taken the unconscious Elafia girl's left hand.
"S-s-sorry!"
Orson hurriedly tried to let go, only to realize that it was not he who had been holding the little deer's hand—it was she who had tightly gripped his.
Could it be...?
Before he could think further, Orson suddenly felt a wave of warmth from his back—no, it could still be called "warmth" in that first instant, but it quickly turned into "burning."
Bang!!
The fragile wooden door was violently smashed open. Orson only had time to turn and see who had rushed in—Talula—before she pounced on him and slammed him to the floor.
Talula pressed her left hand against Orson's chest and drew the greatsword at her waist with her right, its sharp tip pointed directly at his throat.
"The last person I killed with this sword was the root of all evil. You don't deserve to be the second, but I don't mind!"
"I'm innocent!?"
Talula shouted, and Orson shouted back—one fierce, one terrified.
"I-I-I just sensed some kind of presence... or maybe a melody? Something like that, anyway, so I came here. And after that, I didn't do anything! I think I saw something, um, I... what did I see? It felt familiar, so familiar, but..."
As he spoke, Orson became increasingly incoherent. Ever since he had been locked in that barn with the infected and left to die, witnessing countless lives fade away, his mental state had become somewhat unstable.
"..."
Seeing Orson pinned beneath her, rambling as though terrified of death, Talula did not drive down her sword. Instead, she froze, because transparent liquid was running from the corners of the young man's eyes.
"...Did you cry because you're afraid of dying? Can't you face death honestly, like a man or a warrior?"
Talula sighed and asked Orson.
"Is there really no option where I don't die!? And I'm not... huh? What's going on... why am I crying?"
Only then did Orson realize that the liquid was not cold sweat, but tears flowing from his eyes.
What was going on... There was clearly nothing worth feeling sad about, so why was this happening?
Unlike Orson, who was flustered and confused while also blushing because crying in front of a girl made him look incredibly lame, Talula merely watched him in silence.
Everything this guy had done so far made him seem like a complete idiot. Yet somehow, there was no impurity in his actions—in other words, his clumsiness really did not seem to be an act.
"Just what are you—"
"I heard a strange sound!" "Did it come from this direction?" "It seems to be nearby. Everyone, search around!"
The voices of the infected outside not only interrupted Talula, but also made the Sankta woman's face flash with panic.
"—Tch!"
Talula immediately rose from the floor and sheathed her greatsword. Her eyes swept rapidly around the room before settling on the wardrobe at the other side. Without hesitation, she opened its doors, but before climbing inside, she looked back at the utterly bewildered Orson on the floor. After hesitating for half a second, she returned to his side.
"Don't say anything."
"Huh? I—mmph!?"
Talula directly stuffed Orson into the wardrobe, then climbed inside herself.
"This cabin—is it that unconscious teacher's?" "Let's not disturb her for now. It's been so long since Talula carried her back, and she still hasn't woken up?"
Outside the wardrobe, several infected were talking in the room. Inside, Talula and Orson were nearly pressed together. Orson could see his own reflection in her pupils from so close, and even see the heat she exhaled from the nose of the infected woman who would one day stand behind countless disasters, burdened with the lives of hundreds of thousands.
Putting aside the heat, Orson once more sensed a melody. Unlike the simple chord that had made him feel peaceful and calm before, the melody he sensed this time was like a restrained drumbeat mixed with an intensely discordant, strange, piercing sound.
But Orson had no time to listen to the melody, nor any strength left to experience the feeling of being pressed close to a "walking catastrophe."
At that moment, Orson had only one feeling:
—Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!!
It was not just hot breath. What came from Talula's nose was practically... dragon's breath.
Orson felt that he finally understood how food stuffed into a microwave must feel.
After the crisis that had only lasted a few seconds but felt like hours to Orson ended, Talula pushed open the wardrobe door. She forcibly held her expression steady, making herself appear entirely unaffected. Orson emerged behind her looking as if he had just stepped out of a sauna, white vapor rising from all over his body, carrying the scent of a freshly steamed bun straight from the steamer.
"Um..."
"You have no memory or impression of what just happened. I was never here, and I never met you. Do you understand? Or perhaps the thing on that collar is actually a decorative piece that can melt away?"
Orson wanted to say something, but Talula cut him off directly, expressing the central message of say a word and you're dead in the simplest possible terms.
"Got it, got it, got it, got it!"
Orson nodded like a pecking chick to show that he would not speak even if beaten to death. Only then did Talula half-close her eyes, sigh, and signal for him to leave quickly.
After leaving the cabin, Orson glanced back. Before the wooden door closed, he saw Talula standing beside the unconscious girl, her expression sorrowful yet restrained.
In that romantic-comedy-like situation just now—except the temperature had been far too high—Orson had also sensed Talula's melody more clearly.
It was a scorching pain. At first glance, it shone with unwavering determination, but beneath it lurked a twisted darkness, followed by a loneliness that slowly spread and sought to devour everything.
"What is this..."
Orson rubbed his temples. What did these melodies mean, and what could he do? Why did that unconscious Elafia girl give him such a strange feeling?
Orson decided not to think about those questions for now. When he returned to the center of the settlement, he noticed that the white rabbit seemed to be organizing some kind of operation. After asking a few infected warriors, he learned that she planned to lead some people back the next morning to deal with the destroyed village once and for all.
"So, two Abyssal Hunters, me, five members of the Guerrilla Force, and one Shield Guard. That should be the basic lineup. Anyone else want to join?"
"I do!"
Orson raised his still-chained hand, wanting to sign up for the operation.
"(￣^￣`)... Rejected."
Once FrostNova noticed that it was Orson, she wore an expression that said he was too much trouble, then immediately rejected him in a serious tone.
"I'm the only survivor of that village, right? If that's the case, I think I have an obligation to witness the village's end."
"..."
Orson's reason made FrostNova frown and ponder. Before the big rabbit could make a decision, Talula's voice came from behind them.
"Don't let him go near the village yet."
Talula and Orson exchanged a glance. Orson awkwardly looked up at the sky, while Talula unexpectedly turned her eyes away as well.
"Then what should he do, keep wandering around the village?"
FrostNova asked.
"Hmm... FrostNova, your handcuffs work normally, right?"
Talula thought for a few seconds before asking.
"Originium is attached to that length of cuff chain. If I activate my Originium Arts a little, I can freeze off his entire arm. What about your collar, Talula?"
"It can melt his head within three seconds."
"Big sisters, are you treating me like some kind of forest fire-and-ice kid..."
Orson trembled as he touched his neck, then his wrist.
"In that case, give him some work. Which position is most short-handed?"
Talula looked toward the infected warriors beside her, and they exchanged glances.
"Ever since that Elafia woman fell unconscious, the children haven't had a teacher."
"A teacher..."
Talula seemed to think of something. She looked at Orson.
"At the end of the story, Simon gave up all the identities and authority he once possessed. He was no longer a hero or a leader, returning to his first and most fundamental identity—Simon the Digger."
Orson took a drink of water to moisten his throat.
"So that's the whole story. Is there anything you didn't understand, Sasha?"
In one corner of the settlement, Orson sat on a blanket and told stories while several infected children under the age of ten sat before him.
"Why didn't Simon use that Spiral Power to kill all the bad people in the world?"
The Serpentfolk boy with seaweed-like hair named Sasha asked in confusion. Orson tapped the blackboard, signaling for him to pay attention.
"Because the core of this story is that even if people possess limitless possibilities, they must never allow power to change their original heart!"
"Tch..."
Sasha was unconvinced by Orson's explanation, but he did not know how to refute it.
"What about you, Ino? You've been thinking about something this whole time. Tell us?"
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