Novel Full Chapter 245: From The Ashes (2) Part 2
Chapter 245: From The Ashes (2) Part 2
Two hours later, I returned to the guild room and saw Jukaken, covered in dirt as if he had fought his way through a tunnel with nothing but his bare hands, while Arlos stood there in a mask, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“… What were you doing there?” Arlos asked, her voice muffled behind the mask.
I raised a hand to Arlos’s mask.
“No—stop. I said stop. Don’t take it off,” Arlos said, pulling her head away from my hand as I reached for her mask.
I nodded slightly without saying a word.
“What did you do with Sylvia?” Jukaken asked.
“That’s not something you need to know,” I replied.
“You’re joking, right? That psycho’s the enemy of every last one of us. Whatever you did with her—”
“Take this.”
Clatter—!
I let the coins fall, one after another, until the floor rang with their weight. Jukaken and Arlos reacted as if they’d struck gold, their eyes widening and their reactions thoroughly dramatic.
“Woaahhhh?!”
“What?!”
While they scrambled for the coins, their eyes shining with greed, I took advantage of the brief moment of chaos to reach out and pull the mask from Arlos’s face.
“Oh, damn it!” Arlos said, covering her face with one hand as her other continued to work, scooping up coins and elbowing Jukaken out of the way, with her mask slipping free.
For all the absurdity of their actions, it should’ve seemed pathetic; however, there was a cold beauty to Arlos’s face that was stunning, like a sculpture, and even that ragged scuffle felt intentional, conveying less desperation and more like a piece of performance art.
“Does this coin still hold its worth?” I inquired.
“Of course it is! It’s a real one—a complete currency!” Jukaken replied.
“Complete currency?”
“I’ll tell you what it means later—but trust me, it’s a huge deal! Where did you get this coin?”
“I received it from Sylvia,” I replied.
Those coins were what I had been paid by Sylvia, and in other words, they were my wage.
“For fuck’s sake, stop pushing me, bitch. I’m going to knock you flat if you don’t back the hell off.”
“Back the fuck off. It’s mine.”
Jukaken and Arlos didn’t seem the least bit interested, but if anyone had asked, Sylvia had paid me—in coin—for spending time with her on the lessons of Etynel grammar.
“Whoa, look at all this. Bet I could spring for a steak tonight. Alright, I’m outta here!” Jukaken said, his pockets clinking with coins, turned around and bounced out of the guild room’s door.
Arlos’s hands shook as she stuffed the coins into the bundle.
Once it was just the two of us in the guild room, Arlos cleared her throat and held out her hand, waiting—as if I should already know what she wanted.
“Is what you have not enough?”
“No, my mask.”
“Such beauty ought not to be veiled and deserves the light,” I replied, shaking my head.
“… Just give it back. Art fades when it’s left too long in the open for people to see.”
“There’s no one else watching but me.”
Arlos let her arm fall back to her side.
I cleared the dust from the chair across from her using the very mask she had worn, then lowered myself into it and let my eyes settle on her face. Arlos twisted in her seat for a moment, then threw up her arms, covering her face as if she expected a blow from a boxer.
“Arlos,” I called.
“… What,” Arlos replied.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“… Something you’ve been meaning to ask me?”
“Tell me—what is it that you seek from the Altar?”
Arlos was a mystery, and she was a villain—that much was certain, as she worked with the Altar—but the scenario didn’t concern itself with that part, as if her reasons were none of our business.
“I think that is none of your business,” Arlos said, still guarding herself like a fighter unwilling to drop her hands.
“Of course it is my business, as the Altar is the sworn enemy of the entire continent.”
“… I don’t think I should tell you anything about my purpose,” Arlos replied, her eyes narrowing with a sharp glare in my direction.
Arlos took a coin from the bundle, turned it over in her fingers, blew on its surface, and in the next instant, the coin transformed into a potato.
“This is what complete currency means. This coin can turn anything into something real. Don’t ask me how—it just works. Though, as you can probably guess, it’s the worst trade-off you could imagine,” Arlos said, taking a bite of her potato.
I kept my eyes on Arlos in silence as she ate the potato.
“… If you want to eat it, take it already,” Arlos added, her brow furrowing as she offered up the potato.
“You turn the simplest act into something beautiful. Even eating a plain potato becomes art in your hands.”
“What the?”
Scrape—
I hooked my foot around the leg of Arlos’s chair and pulled it closer until it was within my reach. Arlos’s breath caught, and then she pressed herself flat against the backrest, as if she thought she could escape the situation.
“You are inexhaustible to the eye. There’s something in you—philosophy, beauty, presence. You spark ideas, push me toward thoughts I didn’t know I had. Just being near you, I can almost see magic and hear the first notes of something worth composing,” I said, leaning closer to her.
“Okay, that’s more than enough…” Arlos muttered, raising her arms in defense again and drawing her knees to her chest as she sank further into the seat.
At that moment…
“WOOOHEEEYWOOOHEEEYWOOOHEEEYWOOOHEEEYWOOO…”
“It’s a ghost,” Arlos whispered, her eyes stretched wide.
“Not a Vigilante?”
“They’re also known as the Vigilantes. Follow me,” Arlos replied with a potato in her mouth, then reached down, lifted the iron ring on the guild room floor, and opened the hidden hatch. “Get in. Hurry.”
The basement that Arlos was gesturing toward was draped in cobwebs, with dust dancing like ash in the dying light. But her presence alone transformed it as she stepped into the passage; even that foul, ruined place of filth took on the grace of a painted masterpiece.
“… Very well.”
Under normal circumstances, Deculein wouldn’t have spared that filthy basement a second glance; and yet, I stepped into it willingly, with Arlos beside me.
***
… Meanwhile, in a backroom of the Imperial Palace, the anti-Deculein alliance and the Intelligence Agency were hard at work—gathering evidence, cross-checking timelines, confirming charges, and preparing documentation. Every breath in that room moved toward a single purpose—a counterattack against Deculein.
“Far too many,” Gawain said, setting the thick document down in disbelief. “This record speaks of more than a few who were falsely condemned as Scarletborn—and paid for it with their lives.”
One by one, the bloodstained truths of Deculein’s past came to light—his crimes, each one soaked in blood, were exposed one after another by the anti-Deculein alliance and the Intelligence Agency.
“Once this evidence is made public, justice will speak for itself. Only then will Deculein stumble—and more importantly, Her Majesty will at last hold the banner of rightful cause.”
Yulie kept her eyes on the evidence file, even as she listened to Gawain’s voice in the background, absorbing both the words and the evidence at once.
“If Her Majesty sets her will and lifts the sword of judgment, Deculein will have nowhere left to hide, as he’s built every excuse upon a single pillar—that all was done for the Her Majesty the Empress…”
Then Gawain, after a brief hesitation, turned toward Yulie and asked, “Is everything alright, Knight Yulie?”
“… Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you. I’m fine,” Yulie replied with a nod. “It’s nothing—just something personal.”
Yulie reviewed the file on the Marik Incident, her eyes moving line by line through the initial evidence list from the day of the accident.
“Agent Locken, may I ask, is there any conceivable way that the evidence could have been omitted or removed?”
The bracelet, a gift from Yulie’s father, was clearly listed in the initial evidence list, but as she turned the page, the name was missing, as if it had never been there at all.
“Yes, it is possible. However, the Intelligence Agency records everything—even what’s omitted or removed. Which specific piece of evidence are you referring to?” Agent Locken replied.
“… About this bracelet,” Yulie said, pointing to the corresponding section of the document.
Rustle, rustle, rustle—
“Yes, that would be Baelon—the officer in charge of the investigation at the time,” Locken replied, nodding as he rifled through the document. “In the past, he was known as one of Decalane’s hounds, raised under Decalane’s favor and trained to bite on command.”
At the mention of Decalane’s name, a spark lit in Yulie’s eyes.
“Decalane? Are you referring to Decalane of Yukline?”
“Yes, that is correct..”
“Oh, then I—I, too, would ask to see the document…” Yulie said, rushing toward him before the words had even finished leaving her lips.
***
Meanwhile, in the Empress’s bedchamber, Sophien was occupied with a radio transmission, her message meant only for the person on the other end.
— I’m telling you, there’s a mountain of gifts he picked out for Her Majesty—but not a single one was sent; they’ve just been sitting everywhere.
On the other end of the transmission was Yeriel, Deculein’s younger sister, someone Sophien had first come to know during her university days. What Yeriel offered to her now wasn’t urgent, but the details were enough to hold Sophien’s interest.
“And what kept him from sending them?” Sophien asked.
— Apparently, he wouldn’t let anything be sent unless it was perfect. I mean, can you believe that?
“Hmm,” Sophien murmured, crossing her arms in a gesture that said everything she didn’t.
— Honestly, his loyalty to Her Majesty is hard to believe. I mean—how does someone from a mage’s bloodline end up being so loyal to the Imperial Palace? They say a knight’s heart in a mage’s mind—honestly, that fits him too well.
“… So, what you’re saying is…”
At that moment, a question rose—embarrassing enough to make Sophien want to strangle herself for thinking it, but part of her thought it might be worth asking at least once.
“If his loyalty runs that deep, could it be possible that Deculein has feelings for Her Majesty…?”
— Feelings—like actual feelings? You mean love, or something like that?
Sophien didn’t respond to Yeriel’s question, not because she wouldn’t, but because she couldn’t.
— I’m not sure. But knowing Deculein, if he ever had an ideal, it would have been Her Majesty.
Sophien had lived for more than a century, but this—whatever this feeling was—was new. It twisted under her skin and tightened in her chest as she said nothing to Yeriel, with no words coming, even now.
— … Wait. Now that you mention it, I’m starting to wonder too. Maybe he really has formed some deep affection for Her Majesty?!
Sophien remained silent.
— You know, now that I think about it, it really could be possible. Funny—I mean, Her Majesty does carry a dignity even Deculein could come to admire. I just never thought to put the pieces together… Alright, enough sneaking around for today. I’ve got to get back to work.
“… I’ll see to it that everything I’ve heard today is passed along. In the meantime, you should take some time and think it through,” Sophien replied.
— Okay, I’m just going to ask Deculein straight up.
Tap—
After the crystal orb’s radio transmission ended, Sophien clicked her tongue, began a game of Go against herself, studied magic for a while, rewrote statutes that didn’t need changing, and eventually held her pipe between her lips just to feel like she had a purpose.
“… Keiron, it’s finally certain.”
Then, as her eyes settled on Keiron’s snow globe, a single thought rose to the surface—a truth she hadn’t realized until now, simple yet annoyingly impossible to ignore.
“Something in me is beginning to fray,” Sophien muttered.
It had been a week since Sophien last saw Deculein, and already, something like an illness she couldn’t name had begun to wear away at her from within, eating through the days, one breath at a time.