Chapter 133
Chapter 133
The grand mansion of the House of Crisis.
A chilling and sharp silence, colder than a winter’s gale, enveloped the three seated around the long table, which was exclusively meant for the bloodline of Crisis.
“It has been three days since Shushu has not awakened.”
Under the oppressive atmosphere, one could feel that if anyone were to step into this space, they would be crushed by the air itself, and it was Caesar who first broke the silence.
During those three days, each had been preoccupied with their own thoughts, having finally gathered together for the first time since the terror incident. After his brief statement, Caesar sealed his lips, and once again, an extended silence lingered.
“…I cannot understand.”
Kall, with his clasped hands before his mouth, slowly began to speak while staring into the void. The chill hanging about him made his already emotionless face seem like a statue carved from ice.
“Why must Shushu always be the one to sacrifice? Even when we went to Lujou Village to hunt monsters before, it was the same, and it’s the same now. Can the peace of the world persist if it relies solely on one person’s sacrifice? A world that exists only through someone else’s sacrifice… doesn’t it lack any worth?”
His words flowed in a calm and composed tone, but the content was anything but tranquil. A haunting madness danced wildly within his dark red eyes that held no light.
“What I cannot comprehend the most is that child. Why, why at all!”
Bang!
A tightly clenched fist slammed down hard on the table. The surface cracked, and the long table shook violently.
It was a rudeness too extreme to display before his father and younger sister, yet neither Caesar nor Aria spoke. To be precise, they seemed lost in their own thoughts, having no mind to converse.
“Why does it matter whether the lives or deaths of countless humans are important enough for her to stand forth and sacrifice herself? Are they more important than what we care about?”
His questioning was swept by massive waves of emotion.
“Shushu… protected us by guarding the capital.”
Aria, who had been resting her forehead on her hand propped up by the table, murmured. It seemed more like she was reciting to herself than responding.
Her blue eyes, staring blankly at some point on the table, flickered with an unsettling emptiness.
“Who asked her to protect us! I would have preferred to see the capital explode rather than watch that child become a wreck! I did not want her sacrifice!”
Kall’s voice grew louder. Though he was often described as more machine than human due to his lack of emotion, he now displayed his feelings without reservation.
The blue gaze that had been lost in the air turned towards Kall. In the pale, dead sky, a surge of resentment bubbled up.
“Doesn’t everyone? I feel that way too. I want to die, you bastard.”
The voice, spat out like it was chewed over, captured a horrifying truth.
That rage was directed at himself.
“No matter how desperately I run, I always feel like I’m only chasing after your back. I could never catch up. You are too fast; I couldn’t even match your speed. Following behind, just trying not to fall behind was the best I could do, and even that was exhausting.
I thought I finally managed to catch up…
But the voice sank beneath the depths of despair.
Aria’s face twisted in such a way that it wouldn’t have been surprising if she burst into tears at any moment, yet the overcast sky showed no sign of droplets falling. Even as the light faded and the world blurred, it refused to allow a single drop to pool. It was stubbornness and pride.
For Aria, Kashmir represented an ideal realm—an ideal she pursued even knowing she could never catch up.
After recovering her body, she thought she had finally brushed against its hem while learning magic.
“But I, in the end, could never distance myself from that back. Once again, I will have to witness that body become a mass of wounds.”
Despair and self-loathing crashed over her like a tide. Aria continued to ponder.
Why can’t I become stronger than you? I wanted to stand beside you, but you always remain so far ahead. Do you take pleasure in making me feel this miserable?
Must I always be the one who is protected by you?
A breathless silence passed through the room. Kall, with his mouth tightly shut, turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut.
Kall relentlessly recalled Kashmir, Mir.
When he had first seen Mir, the emotion he felt was intrigue. Not love like some nonsensical and illogical disaster, but a gentle curiosity.
Until then, Kall Crisis had categorized humanity into just two kinds: interesting people and uninteresting people. Mir belonged to the first category, and among the few interesting things, she was the most captivating.
Kall Crisis could never have imagined that this fortuitously encountered intriguing being would engulf him whole.
From that intrigue, a mad obsession sprouted, and the fruit of affection blossomed, which was beyond his expected realm.
That existence swallowed the adjective “interesting,” etching its very essence deep within him. Kall no longer sought intrigue from Kashmir.
Now, to Kall Crisis, “Kashmir” was not Mir, nor Crisis; she was “Shushu.”
It was fine if she was no longer intriguing—she could be boring, trite, mundane, and even ignorant. It wouldn’t matter if she were not a powerful sword master or a hero revered throughout the continent.
It was okay if the once vibrant life force that captivated him flickered and dulled amidst the darkness. He didn’t care about that anymore.
As long as she continued to breathe by his side, that was enough.
“I didn’t want this…
With one hand covering his eyes, Kall whispered in a muffled voice.
The unsolicited salvation for the involved parties became violence.
“…Everyone should calm down a little.”
Finally speaking up was Caesar, who had remained silent during Kall and Aria’s heated argument. His expression and voice bore the calm of experience, but the turbulence in his eyes could not be concealed.
For nearly three days, Caesar had halted all activities and remained alone in his room to think.
Why did Kashmir not inform him about the terror?
When she had said she would be busy during the festival, he had anticipated something might happen, but he never imagined it would be a terror attack.
No, it’s more accurate to say he couldn’t conceive that she would not give him any heads up about something so dire.
Now, he thought that Kashmir relied on him to some degree. The first time they met, she had likely seen him merely as a “Duke,” but now he surmised that she viewed him as family.
Yet once more, Kashmir did everything alone, and he was unable to help at all. Not even when she was struggling to handle the bombs was he present.
Caesar Crisis, born with everything, had never gotten used to feeling utterly inept.
He clawed back feelings that threatened to drown him, contemplating the moment Kashmir would regain consciousness.
Kashmir was fully recovered physically, so she would awaken soon, but he had no clue how to respond when facing her again.
Should he be angry? Why did she throw herself into danger without saying a word?
But did he have the right to say such things?
To achieve her goals by sacrificing herself—that was the way Kashmir had learned to live as a mercenary, and the reason the young girl had to live as a mercenary was no other than Caesar’s absence.
Had Caesar been alongside the young Kashmir, she would never have become a mercenary. Moreover, her reckless tendency to handle everything alone would have never developed.
Suppressing the rising frustration, Caesar struggled to regain composure. Adjusting to such intense feelings was unfamiliar, and it took quite some time for his distorted expression to settle.
What then should he say to the child who rushed toward the bomb to protect the capital?
He couldn’t encourage her with “Well done.” Yet, he couldn’t scold her nor could he merely let it pass without a word.
In truth, merely looking at Kashmir’s face, he felt all the emotions he had barely been able to keep at bay for three days would spill out, leaving him without the courage to confront her.
Caesar Crisis, who feared nothing even death, felt a deep, overwhelming fear. His tightly clasped hands began to tremble faintly.
As these things repeated over time, what if that child really were to die? Even if she were a Sword Master, she was still human.
When the child who went out to save people eventually returned as a corpse, would he be able to endure without destroying the world?
Countless thoughts of various colors blended together, painting his mind a color that was neither one thing nor the other.
Gazing blankly at the void, Caesar slowly exhaled and closed his eyes.
Even if he thought alone, he reached no conclusion. Even if he made rules like “In dangerous situations, contact without fail,” he knew that Kashmir would without hesitation break such a rule the moment someone became endangered.
Kashmir Crisis was a storm whose course couldn’t be predicted. One that could neither be caught nor confined, a relentless wind that began to rage without warning.
He wanted to command Kashmir, yet he did not want to force her. The most important thing was her opinions.
Taking a deep breath, he scraped away the jumbled thoughts that felt like thick paint.
“Both of you, get your thoughts in order. It’s time to go see Shushu.”
At Caesar’s words, Kall and Aria organized their thoughts in their own ways, all wishing in unison for Kashmir to awaken today.
“…Shouldn’t we call a doctor or something?”
“Don’t be so hasty, Kall Crisis. Thanks to my healing abilities, she’s already fully recovered.”
“Then why hasn’t she woken up yet!”
“How the hell should I know, you bastard! Are you arguing with me?”
“Both of you, shut it.”
The sharp exchanges next to him made his ears ring. Those were familiar voices.
I frowned slightly before slowly opening my eyes. I couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but the languid sensation in my body indicated I had awakened from a long slumber.
I blinked several times with my unfocused eyes, parting my parched lips.
“…Ah.”
With my crackling voice, I could only close my lips again due to the constriction in my throat. It felt dry, as if I were a traveler who had roamed for a long time without a single drop of water.
As I coughed a few times, three glimmering pairs of eyes fixed on me.
My beloved, my family.
