Chapter 110: Departure (1)
The voice of an old man, the voice of a child, the voice of a man, the voice of a woman echoed. They were being recited in a busy mix. A book obtained from the Lost Library was being read aloud.
Penelope's hand rested on the book.
The letters that made up the pages were not important. They were not of this world in the first place. Since their aning could not be grasped with the naked eye, she used divine power. It was a ans to read the books of the Lost Library.
Abel sat opposite Penelope.
Though they had stayed in the Lost Library for a long ti, it was still night. The ti in the domain of a main god and Epezeria was not equivalent. The main gods resided in a place that transcended ti, and no matter how long they stayed in the Lost Library, it could not affect Epezeria.
Monika had already returned ho.
After treating her body, which had been damaged from staying in the domain of a main god, he had told her to return to the dormitory and rest.
And so, Abel and Penelope sat facing each other at the table. It was ti to discuss their future steps, after recalling the forgotten history in the secret room of the coffee house.
How disgusting.
Penelope thought, her eyes flashing.
She had heard that there was an era when witch hunts were rampant, but to think that all sorts of subjects watched and enjoyed the death.
Huu, it went.
Penelope let out a sigh.
She removed her hand that was on the page. She had used too much divine power. Her breathing beca rough and beads of sweat ford in her hair. It would be enough to read the rest in the presence of the Pope. The information Abel had obtained would be of great help in confronting the Parousia Denomination.
“How barbaric. The Platinum Round Table Orthodoxy of the past, I an.”
“Religion is a double-edged sword.”
Abel muttered in a calm tone.
Although all things were ford through the main gods, religion, separate from that, could not guarantee the truth. The mont it is preached that religious truth exists, faith is distorted. Creation is an achievent made by the Creator giving up on being omnipotent, yet the creatures created through the process of creation do not doubt the Creator's omnipotence.
Just as the Creator dreams of becoming a creature,
And the creature dreams of becoming the Creator.
“I'm leaving for the Papal States tomorrow morning. I must report this to His Holiness the Pope.”
How about it, will you co with ?
Penelope asked so.
“I'll give you the chance to escort your wife as her husband.”
“I refuse.”
There was no strength in Abel's expression.
He was tired, both physically and ntally. He wanted to sit still and stay up all night. In the first place, he had no other way to manage his fatigue. Because he had beco a body that could not sleep.
“I will soon be heading to Portsmouth with my disciples.”
Abel explained in a stoic tone.
“His Holiness told . That traces of the apostates were also found there. It's possible that the Parousia Denomination's influence has spread.”
“You're really busy, you.”
Penelope shrugged her shoulders.
She swallowed her cold espresso and continued.
“I have sothing I want to ask. I'll ask, and you answer.”
“I would really like to go back.”
“No. You don't have the right to refuse.”
Abel swept back his hair.
He was silent for a mont, then finally nodded.
“You said you had soone you shared love with. What kind of woman was she?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to monopolize her.”
“The mory of her?”
“That is correct. It is one of the few legacies I have left.”
“How absurd.”
She will never be forgotten.
Anyone could make such a childish declaration.
It was just cliché. The human struggle to be free from oblivion was ti-honored. The life of a man trying not to forget his deceased lover? One would be reluctant to even use it as material for a cheap play.
But it was different.
Penelope could sense it. That man probably, though she couldn't be sure, would really not forget. With an expression that looked like he had died a hundred tis, even if he were to really repeat death, he would not forget.
“What's the secret?”
That's why she asked.
Because she was jealous, because she couldn't stand it.
“How can you not forget so much?”
Answer , she said.
Penelope demanded strongly,
“There is no special thod. I am just living.”
Abel answered with a faint smile.
With a careful gesture, while stroking the hilt of his beloved sword.
“Her empty space is also her space.”
So we are always together.
Her absence exists along with .
“That is all there is to it.”
How beautiful.
Penelope thought, bowing her head.
That man, Abel Argento, is truly beautiful.
To the point where it's unbearable.
Was that all there was to it?
Monika thought with narrowed eyes.
You, who dread of the success of your revenge your whole life, did you achieve your goal because you had forgotten the possibility of failure? It had to be. Because you had forgotten your fear, you were able to move forward so much.
Or not.
Did you want to live too?
Or not.
Did you not even know that you wanted to live?
Fleur was a child who should not have died.
Monika still thought so. Though Fleur had ultimately passed away, she was thinking, as if being stubborn with this world. That Fleur should not have died. That Fleur's death was wrong.
No value is needed.
Monika answered on Fleur's behalf.
Life was not a phenonon represented by value. It was like rain falling and snow falling. Like the weather, it was a natural providence that made up this world.
There would be no particular fulfillnt.
Monika answered on Fleur's behalf.
There would be those who felt fulfillnt. But that didn't matter. Just living was worthy of respect. Because continuing to live was a truly difficult thing.
No aning is needed.
Monika answered on Fleur's behalf.
No, that's not it. There is aning. There is aning in living. There is aning in every life, and that was the sa for your life too. How foolish, how stubborn. Why did you not know that?
Monika held her breath.
There was.
There was aning in your life too.
She forgot because there was aning.
So that was it. Monika thought, mumbling her lips. You knew everything, yet you refused it. And so you beca ignorant of it. You, who thought that it didn't matter what happened to your own life as long as you could achieve revenge, did you in the end not stop because you had decided to forget your own life?
Monika released the strength from the hand that was on the page.
The mory, pronounced in Fleur's voice, ca to an end.
‘……Nothing has changed.’
Monika thought blankly.
Nothing changed by recalling the mory that Fleur had forgotten. She had only felt the difference between knowing the value of life and not knowing it, but the place where Fleur had died remained unchangingly empty.
She knew. She was used to losing others. She had lost her father, and she had lost her mother. She had lost the neighbors she used to see all the ti. To Monika, every death was special, and Fleur was no exception.
‘No, I wasn't used to it.’
Monika lifted her head.
In front of her were the statues of the main gods.
She thought she was used to death, but it was a delusion.
It was because she wasn't used to it that she was indifferent. Living with the sticky feeling of loss stuffed inside her, living while suffering from her own powerlessness, it was only because she was used to it that she was indifferent.
What could soone like her do for the dead?
‘I hope you are well.’
In the end, it was only prayer.
With her hands clasped together, Monika went through the steps of prayer.
She did not pray to the Pantheon. She prayed to her own inner self. The dead may have departed for the underworld, but the lives she knew of them were in her heart.
Thus, she was answered.
A halo of light ford on the statues of the main gods.
Unlike the tis when she had vaguely prayed to the Pantheon, it had responded because she had clearly prayed to herself.
‘It's finally working.’
Monika narrowed her eyes.
A faint smile decorated the corners of her mouth.
anwhile,
“Monika Lohengrin.”
A voice from behind Monika.
Monika turned her head. She turned her gaze in the direction the voice had co from.
“I found you.”
A girl in work clothes was standing there.
Not a student of CIAR, but a re repairwoman.
“……I finally found you.”
Louise Bourdieux opened her mouth, facing Monika.
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