Ed handed the three seeds to the old man, who took them with trembling hands as he endured the pain.
"The tax collector rings the bell first so everyone can pick their seeds, then collects them door to door. You're not a believer in the Tree Worship Church, so don't worry about it. Just stay here."
The old man clutched the seeds and sat hunched at the edge of the bed, waiting for the tax collector to arrive.
Soon, footsteps drew closer from a distance, and someone pounded roughly on the door:
"Stop playing dead, you old bastard! Pay your taxes!"
"Yes, yes."
The old man went to the door, moving exactly as he had when Ed knocked earlier.
But this visitor was not nearly as polite. The moment the door opened a crack, the tax collector shoved it open and held out his hand to the old man:
"Dragging your feet, are you? Not devout enough toward the great World Tree?"
Inside Ed's consciousness space, the two spiritual entities exchanged looks.
Ed: "Does this have anything to do with you?"
Little Green: "What the hell does it have to do with me?"
The tax collector took the three tree seeds and examined them carefully in the faint light, disgust spreading across his face:
"Clearly the result of insincere prayers. If the quality's still this bad next month, I'll charge you an extra seed."
"Yes, yes. It won't happen again."
The old man nodded and bowed obsequiously, looking as though he might collapse at any moment, but even after collecting the tax, the tax collector had no intention of leaving.
He stood in the doorway and surveyed the furnishings from above, naturally failing to spot Ed hiding beneath the bed.
"Old man, have you seen a white-haired youngster these past two days? About fourteen or fifteen. Think carefully. He's an apostate of the church, and he stole a sacred relic."
"No, sir."
Seemingly worried about inviting more trouble, the old man answered immediately and decisively.
The tax collector thought little of his answer and gave a derisive chuckle:
"I suppose you wouldn't see much at your age. A pity. His Grace the Bishop said anyone who finds a lead on that apostate will be exempt from the tithe for the next ten years."
"But then again, sir."
As though the words "ten years" had wound him up, the old man instantly seemed twenty years younger.
The tax collector, who had already half turned away, looked back at him in surprise:
"You have a lead? Why didn't you say so sooner?"
"I wouldn't dare deceive you, sir. I just remembered something, though I don't know if it counts as a lead."
"Cut the crap."
"Well, this afternoon, I saw an unfamiliar face pass through here and head south along the river. Judging by the time, he should be about at Dragonborn Village now."
At the mention of Dragonborn Village, the tax collector's expression immediately lost its enthusiasm.
He walked over to his mount, which resembled no identifiable creature, and put the three seeds into a bag beside the saddle as he said:
"Understood. I'll report it."
"Sir, what about the tax exemption?"
"We'll talk once he's caught. You'll get what's owed to you."
Brushing the old man off, the tax collector led his odd-looking mount slowly away.
The door closed tightly again, and darkness fell completely.
The old man's little wooden hut had no lighting of any kind, but muscle memory still let him find every important item.
He returned to bed, lay facedown, and let out a sound of relaxation, as though Ed did not exist at all.
At that point, Ed crawled out from under the bed as well. Lying on the floor, he looked toward the old man and asked without concealing anything:
"Why did you lie just now?"
"How do you know I lied?"
Instead of answering, the old man posed a question of his own.
"Because I'm that apostate."
Ed had no intention of hiding anything either. His hood could conceal some of his features, but only under normal circumstances.
Now that the tax collector had described his appearance in detail, unless the old man had planted trees in both eyes, he could have guessed a thing or two.
"Aren't you going to Dragonborn Village?"
The old man suddenly asked.
"Yes. I need to visit the blacksmith."
"Then it doesn't count as lying."
The old man on the bed sounded a little more relaxed, with a hint of cunning:
"You're going there sooner or later anyway. Saying that now gets me a tax exemption and gives you a warning. I'm just an old man. I can't afford to offend either side."
"Your mind really is lively. Not at all what I'd expect at your age."
In the darkness, Ed suddenly felt that this old fellow had talent and could not help remarking on it.
"Heh. Actually, I'm only thirty-five this year."
The old man said hoarsely:
"It's just that most people in Upperstream Village and Midstream Village don't live to forty, so I'm an old man too. No contradiction there."
After a while, the old man asked again:
"Why did you betray the Tree Worship Church?"
"They experimented on me, and then I ran away. That's all."
Ed gave an extremely abbreviated account of everything he and the body's original owner had experienced.
"Experiments?"
The old man looked at the hooded boy and pointed at his own back:
"Experiments like this?"
"Much more terrifying than that."
Recalling what the body's original owner had suffered, Ed spoke with lingering fear.
Every time he accessed that part of the memories, the bone-deep pain seemed to descend on him across time and space.
Ed had reason to believe that if his otherworldly soul had transmigrated a few years earlier, he would probably have long since been tortured out of his mind and plunged into utter madness.
The wilderness at night was not somewhere Ed could venture in his current state. Conversation in the little wooden hut gradually grew less frequent, until it was finally drowned out entirely by their breathing.
Ed finally got his first sleep since transmigrating, while Little Green kept watch all night. After all, trees did not need to sleep.
Early the next morning, Ed bid farewell to the old man in his thirties and began walking south, leaning on the wooden staff his finger had transformed into.
Only once Upperstream Village had disappeared behind him did Ed begin talking to Little Green:
"Why hasn't our relationship turned out like that?"
Naturally, he meant the old man and the tree on his back. That symbiotic-or rather, parasitic-relationship was truly rather horrifying.
Though they were different varieties, Little Green was likewise a creation of the Tree Worship Church and ought to share certain similarities with that tree. Yet Ed and the old man he had just left had ended up in completely different situations.
"That's because I understand sustainable development."
The sapling's proud voice rang out in Ed's mind,
"Of course, that eye deserves some credit too. How should I put it... Though I really don't want to admit it, as far as I understand it, the relationship between us is more like family."
"So that's how it is."
Ed sounded thoughtful:
"Then can you call me Dad?"
Little Green was clearly reluctant and spoke with a hint of resentment:
"You were calling me Brother Tree before..."
"I call you brother, you call me Dad. We each use our own terms. Separate matters."
"Besides what I just said, there's actually another reason."
As though unwilling to joke around, Little Green changed the subject, his tone turning serious again.
"What reason?"
Startled by his solemnity, Ed immediately focused.
"You-or rather, we-are a very special individual. Three powerful forces of different origins have reached a fragile yet delicate balance within this body.
"Your predecessor had an extraordinary body, but his soul was like a blank sheet of paper. It was easily overwritten by a powerful soul from outside-meaning you-and then the two merged into one. As for me, although I'm an outside force, I happen to be able to mediate between them.
"If there were even the slightest imbalance, we could turn into a heap of rotten flesh, a tree, or a wandering soul. Yet here we are, existing perfectly well.
"Viewed that way, we're a one-of-a-kind miracle in this world."
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Stay in the sun a little longer. I'm a bit hungry."