[Trantor - Peptobismol]


    [Proofreader - Max]


    Chapter 1: Azure me (1)


    On a stormy night, a middle-aged man sat in the study of an old mansion atop a hill.


    Barely past forty, his hair was prematurely white, like ash settled upon his head. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed sleepless nights.


    Yet, his wide-open eyes burned with an intense rity.


    As if pursued by something unseen, the man frantically scribbled a letter.


    Finally as he finished writing, he sealed the letter in a white envelope, and stamped it with a si. The red sealing wax bore the imprint of a Wolfsbane flower.


    Clink!


    The man pulled a cord, and a nervous-looking butler appeared in the study.


    "Y-you summoned me, sir?"


    "Gail. Deliver this letter to Hamel."


    "A l-letter... ...sir?"


    "Yes. And this as well."


    The man removed a ring from his finger and handed it to the butler along with the letter.


    The butler hastily stretched out both hands to receive them with reverence.


    "I will deliver them without fail, sir."


    "Thank you."


    Just as the butler turned to leave...


    "Gail."


    "Yes, Master?"


    The butler stopped and turned back at his master''s call.


    -Rumble!


    A sh of lightning illuminated the window.


    For a fleeting moment, the man''s form grotesquely distorted. A guttural growl, like that of a beast, seemed to echo through the room.


    But just as quickly, it passed.


    The crackling firece filled the room with warmth and light.


    His master, with his usual faint smile, handed Gail a pouch of coins.


    "You have served us well all these years."


    "Master?"


    "You are dismissed. This is a reward for your dedicated service to our family."


    "But, Master... I..."


    "Leave!"


    The man roared, mming his fist on the desk.


    The butler flinched, startled, but quickly recovered and bowed deeply.


    "It has been an honor serving you, Master."


    "..."


    There was no reply.


    The butler turned and left the study.


    A momentter...


    -Clip-clop, clip-clop!


    The sound of a carriage reached the study.


    A carriage dashed through the pouring rain, disappearing beyond the window.


    "Yes, it''s done now."


    The man murmured, watching from the window with a look of relief.


    "I may not have been a good father, but at least I won''t burden her in the end."


    He rose and walked unsteadily to the desk, pulling open a drawer. Inside the locked drawery a sharp dagger.


    With a resolute expression, the man gripped the dagger and stood.


    "Let''s end this now."


    Clutching the key hanging around his neck, he muttered to himself and approached a bookcase against the wall. He pushed a book, and with a click, the bookcase slid open.


    -Creak!


    An entrance shrouded in pitch-ck darkness was revealed. A damp breeze wafted from the opening leading underground, ruffling the man''s hair.


    He trembled like a leaf, but he didn''t stop.


    With bloodshot eyes, he shouted into the darkness.


    "I apologize for the wait. I''m ready now. Tonight, I will end this nightmare with my own hands."


    Just as he took a step towards the stairs...


    -Click!


    "...Oh, no. That''s impossible."


    The dainty sound of heels echoed from behind him.


    The man''s eyes fluttered nervously. He gasped for breath, his throat constricted.


    As he turned his head with a creak, he saw a young girl looking up at him.


    "Papa!"


    "...God, give me the strength to ovee this madness."


    "Papa! You''re really taking me to buy a dress today, right?"


    "This can''t be real."


    His hand trembling, the man pointed his cane at the girl.


    She looked up at him with fear in her eyes and asked,


    "Papa... ...why are you doing this? I''m scared."


    "..."


    His daughter was dead.


    A week before her debutante ball, on the day he promised to help her choose a dress. She had been waiting for him, and while he was dyed, she was killed in a carriage ident.


    ''But... ...but how?''


    With trembling eyes, the girl approached him. He could only stare at her in a daze.


    "Papa... ...did Sophia do something wrong?"


    The girl approached the man with trembling eyes.


    Yet, the man simply stared at her nkly.


    "Papa……………… Did Sophia do something wrong?"


    The girl lowered her head with a sullen voice.


    The girl''s clothes, her voice,


    her every action and expression, everything was exactly


    like her when she was alive.


    ''Am I...... Am I crazy?


    Maybe my daughter isn''t dead after all.


    The truth is, the madness that''s been clouding my mind has blurred my memories.


    Everything''s been a jumbled mess for a long time.''


    "Really……………… Really Sophia, is it you?"


    Could the thought that his daughter was dead have been a trick of his madness?


    Could it all have just been a nightmare?


    The man reached out to the girl with a desperate hope.


    If he could touch her, then this must be reality.


    The man''s hand reaches the girl.


    Touching her soft cheek, the man cried out in ecstasy.


    "It''s you! Sophia! You''re alive! Thank goodness! Thank goodness!"


    The man spread his arms wide and stepped towards her.


    The girl smiled faintly and said,


    "What are you doing, Papa? Silly."


    "That''s impossible."


    "......Huh?"


    The man''s pupils shook violently.


    The girl''s neck bent at an angle no human could achieve.


    With a cracking sound, her neck snapped and hung limply.


    "I died with my neck broken like this. I saw it clearly."


    "Wh, what are you talking about Sophia? I......"


    "No. I saw it. Papa, you killed me."


    "I………………did?"


    A jumble of unknown memories flooded the man''s mind.


    Memories he''d never seen before.


    A man, drunk, driving a carriage recklessly.


    A short, scream-like gasp.


    A man, his face pale white, driving the carriage away.


    "Wh, what is this."


    "What do you mean? It''s you, Papa."


    "That can''t be……………… I would never."


    "It was you."


    The girl, her body contorted like a broken doll, stared at the man.


    The man''s teeth chattered.


    "You killed me."


    Only then did the man realize.


    ''I..... Did I kill my daughter with my own hands?''


    No.


    ‘Did I even have a daughter in the first ce?’


    The truth didn''t matter anymore. A terrible sense of guilt consumed his body.


    The man''s trembling hand brought the sword to his neck.


    He heardughtering from somewhere.


    The man was startled and looked around. The girl had disappeared.


    Then he realized.


    That he was smiling, his lips twisted into a grin.


    "Ha, haha……………… hahaha!"


    Even as he burst intoughter, guilt and helplessness washed over him.


    He had failed to finish the job.


    He had failed to burn down this dreadful house.


    "......Aah. In the end!"


    The man, consumed by madness, shed tears whileughing at the same time.


    The hand holding the dagger slowly moved towards his neck.


    And then finally.


    -Crack!!


    Only the sharp sound of tearing flesh echoed sadly through the house.


    -Thud


    ***


    A dark night.


    Rainshed fiercely against the robe.


    Despite this, the man in the robe remained motionless like a statue.


    How much time had passed like this?


    The vige headman, who hade out just in case, ran towards him in a fright.


    "Oh my, you''re all soaked. Are you alright?"


    The man simply nodded without a word.


    Was it because of the darkness?


    Or was it because of the pouring rain?


    The vige headman somehow didn''t feel like the man inside the robe was human.


    Nevertheless, the vige headman smiled awkwardly and held out antern.


    "Please,e out of the rain."


    "I''m fine."


    A voice with no inflection.


    The vige headman felt a chill for some reason.


    The voice itself wasn''t deep.


    No, to be precise, it was like that of a young boy.


    ''If he was dispatched from the church, shouldn''t he be a bit older?''


    Generally, deacons are known to be twenty-five, and priests are usually over forty.


    ''They couldn''t have sent a seminarian, could they?''


    Suppressing his anxiety and curiosity, the vige headman spoke to the man in the robe.


    "Now that I think about it, what did you say your name was?"


    "Hamel."


    "Hamel... ...that''s a nice name."


    The headman nodded reflexively and continued with a casual question, though his true curiosityy elsewhere.


    "You seem quite young, Hamel."


    "Yes."


    "Have you done this sort of thing often?"


    "Yes."


    "Really? At such a young age... ...Oh, I apologize. I shouldn''t pry..."


    The man who introduced himself as Hamel slowly shook his head, seemingly unfazed.


    He apologized, but his hand instinctively sought his sword, suspicion in his eyes.


    The more they spoke, the more certain he became. The face he glimpsed beneath the robe looked no older than a boy''s.


    He had feared it, but it seemed the church had indeed sent a mere seminarian.


    ''Oh dear, if he''s just a seminarian, perhaps I should be the one to handle this.''


    The headman was a veteran, having spent many years as a mercenary.


    He had mainly hunted monsters and even participated in wars between nobles. That was why, at only thirty years old, he held the position of vige headman.


    Therefore, he could easily predict how things would unfold. The young boy in front of him, with no real-world experience, would most likely be terrified in the face of a monster.


    Or perhaps he was already scared. The boy''s reticent and stiff demeanor now made sense.


    ''Sigh...''


    Things had beplicated.


    The headman swallowed a sigh.


    He was annoyed but couldn''t show it.


    Regardless, this was someone dispatched from the church. A headman of a small vige couldn''t express his dissatisfaction.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    However, he found it difficult to understand the church''s decision.


    ''The request wasn''t such that they should have sent a seminarian.''


    Three children had disappeared from this small vige. Newborn babies, less than a month old, who had been sleeping in their homes. It was not a trivial matter.


    Perhaps the reward he offered was too small?


    ''Damn it, I should have added more money.''


    The headman nced at the mansion where Hamel stood guard. It was the only noble household in this small vige, and home to a newborn baby just a week old.


    He didn''t particrly like them, but the newborn was innocent.


    "Ahem, not to boast, but I know how to handle a sword. If a fight breaks out, I''ll help."


    The headman said, subtly showing off his sword.


    Hamel, in his robe, simply stared at him silently.


    ''Oh no!''


    Perhaps he had offended him?


    After all, when it came to dealing with demons, they were the experts. He had heard that some priests were quite proud. And a young, inexperienced seminarian would likely be even more so.


    To have the vige headman offer help must have been insulting.


    The headman, realizing he hadn''t even shown his mercenary badge, hurriedly spoke,


    "Oh, there seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, I used to be a mercenary..."


    But he couldn''t finish his sentence.


    -Aaaaagh!


    A piercing scream froze the headman in his tracks.


    And then...


    "This isn''t the house."


    Hamel said, his voice still t.


    But this time, Hamel''s gaze was truly icy, causing the headman to stammer involuntarily.


    "Th-that is, th-there is one other child born on the same day, b-but in a different house..."


    Hamel didn''t wait for him to finish. He simply turned and sprinted towards the source of the scream.


    There were no sighs, no clicks of the tongue, but the headman saw it – Hamel''s gaze, chillingly cold, as he ran past.


    The headman felt his breath catch in his throat, his heart constricting.


    ''That''s a seminarian...?''


    Something felt off. He couldn''t exin why, and he didn''t have time to think.


    The headman, with a growing sense that his assumptions might be wrong, hurriedly chased after Hamel.


    There was no hesitation, no tension in Hamel''s stride as he ran.


    [Trantor - Peptobismol]


    [Proofreader - Max]