Chapter 176
The parlor was filled with a thick rose scent. Red carpet lay scattered in disarray, and blood dripped from the lamp on the ceiling. Its crimson light scattered through the space, tinting everything red.
The falling blood flowed straight down onto the soil at the bottom of the flowerpot. Ripples spread through the pooled blood, and with every millimeter the blood level dropped, the rose growing in the pot grew by a millimeter. Red teeth were packed tightly onto the bud.
“It's a beautiful creature.”
Drip.
Lairie broke off a rose and said. Ian started to stand, then stopped when he spotted the transparent stream of water gripping his ankle.
A liquid shackle that clung all the tighter when he put force into it.
He could remove it if he wanted to, but at the very least, now was not the time to act on emotion. If he wanted to break out of this safely, he needed to stay calm.
It would be a lie to say I wasn't worried about the party we left behind... but there was nothing I could do for them right now. Still, with three veteran agents and three mages with them, their chances of survival were high.
If not, that's regrettable.
I don't plan to blame myself for the outcome of something I can't do anything about. For now, dealing with Lairie comes first.
Ian let out a long breath and switched the grimoire he had been holding ready to defend himself at any moment. The Deep Sea Chronicle was summoned into his coat pocket, and the Book of Contracts was summoned onto his leg. With a rattling sound, the Book of Contracts appeared and heavily pressed down the air all around it.
“Hmm.”
The corners of Lairie's eyes narrowed. Part of the rotten flesh couldn't withstand the movement of her muscles and tore away.
“As expected, it's a book belonging to someone still young. I can sense a faint milky scent.”
“Can a mere aberration address a god like that?”
“A mere aberration... that statement has a flaw.”
Lairie sat down in the chair. Then she smiled softly and moved her fingers through the air.
Clink.
Following the direction of her fingertips, the flower petals scattered. They soon became a teacup and teapot, settling onto the table. The petals pooled inside the teapot turned to blood, coating the surface.
“I am human. No, to be exact, it would be more correct to say I was human. Still, I continue to think of myself as human. Yes, that's not exactly a wrong description.”
“...Do you mean to say you became an aberration from a human?”
“You don't seem to understand me very well. I said I am human. Please refrain from using that strange word, aberration.”
“Nonsense. An aberration is an aberration. There can't be anything wrong with that proposition.”
“Are you not afraid for your life?”
“Do you understand that it wouldn't be strange if you died right now?”
Ian tapped the grimoire with his finger.
Rattle-rattle.
The chain attached to the end of the grimoire lengthened and quickly wrapped around Lairie's ankle. Her movement stopped dead, and she looked at Ian with an even more interested gaze than before.
“...This is interesting. You're not using magic, but simply the grimoire's additional ability? Just how high is your compatibility, anyway?”
“Do I need to tell you?”
“Can you tell me?”
“I don't feel like it.”
Crunch!
Ian gave the grimoire a slight twist. At the same time, Lairie's decayed ankle twisted as well, crushing bone and flesh.
The crushed organs scattered in tiny fragments and fell to the floor, and flowers bloomed from the severed ankle before melting away into blood.
“Rude speech. But that, too, is charming.”
Lairie stared at her vanished ankle for a moment, then smiled brightly, plucked one of the roses from her hair, and brought it to the ankle. The petals became flesh, the stem became bone, and a new ankle formed.
A bizarre form of regeneration.
She folded her hands neatly. The metallic stench of blood and the scent of roses drifted out at the same time.
“You serve three gods and still keep your sanity. And you even use the grimoire's own abilities... you're no ordinary apostle. No, there's no way three gods would grant power to the same person.”
“...An apostle?”
“Someone like you, mage.”
Lairie said as she lifted the teapot and filled the teacup to the brim with blood.
“A being chosen by the gods. Those selected for their amusement. That's an apostle.”
“...”
“The thinking of a creature chosen as an apostle all converges on faith in its own god. In human terms, you'd call that going mad.”
“That doesn't apply to me.”
“That's what makes it so strange.”
She took a sip of the blood and stirred the blood-red liquid with a teaspoon.
“To put it bluntly, your current state is extremely special. You were chosen by three gods, yet you have no faith at all. Talking to me like this right now is, by common sense, impossible.”
“I'm rather far from common sense.”
“It's not something you can dismiss that casually. A mere human—one who can barely live a hundred years at best—withstanding godhood? Do you think that's possible?”
“Apparently so.”
Ian snorted and lifted the teacup prepared for him. Then he threw it straight to the floor.
Fsssh.
Instead of shattering, the cup made of petals scattered in all directions, forming a pool of blood. Lairie tilted her head at the sight.
“Faith isn't something you can simply endure. Much less if another faith sits on top of it; a human's psyche has nothing left to do but break. Endure it? Could a trained human bear the weight of a whale? It's impossible from the start.”
“You've been making me repeat the same thing.”
“Yes, because it's such a strange phenomenon. Honestly, I feel like checking the state of your mind right this second. I want to rip open your skull, read every fold in your brain one by one, and lick and savor your existence.”
“...”
“But that's impossible, isn't it? You said it yourself—you can kill me whenever you want. Yes, that's true. No matter how strong I am, if you use your power, someone like me is nothing more than a bug. Struggling would be pointless.”
“Knowing that, you brought me here?”
“Knowing that, I brought you here.”
She smiled brightly.
Lairie smiled and crossed her legs. The rotten flesh dangling from her body fell to the floor.
“You are not an apostle, mage. But if so, what are you? What are you to the gods? A toy? A doll? A plaything? A pet?”
“They call me their husband.”
Ian answered at once. He leaned back against the chair and stared at Lairie with an expressionless face. Lairie blinked.
“Huh?”
“I guess I filled out a marriage registration form without even realizing it. It doesn't work on Earth, but apparently it does in the universe.”
“Heh, jokes that go too far are unpleasant, you know.”
“Does it sound like a joke? Then let's call it a joke.”
“...You.”
She frowned. Ian leaned his upper body forward.
“Shut up. I've indulged your rhythm enough already. Now it's my turn to ask the questions. Answer me when I ask, aberration.”
“...The gods' husband? You mean husband? A human? A mere human? A bug?”
“Tell me why you brought me here. And explain how you saw through my grimoire and figured out what Outer God each grimoire is connected to.”
Ian said as he turned the pages of his grimoire. Lairie's dazed expression made the corners of her mouth twitch.
“How is that even possible? Gods shouldn't have sexual desire, should they? They are perfect yet imperfect, gods yet not gods, and neither benevolent nor merciful.”
“Count to three. If you don't answer within that time, I'll blow your head apart.”
“I've never even seen a case like this in my sunken city. Would there be records in the library? If it were my homeland sleeping in the Atlantic, perhaps...”
“One.”
“Gods are sexless. Perfect yet not perfect, all the more perfect because of it. A paradox. The Goddess of Negation. Since they deny everything in this world, they are gods. They chose love? A ridiculous story. It wouldn't even make for a third-rate novel.”
“Two.”
Ian switched grimoires. The Deep Sea Chronicle settled back into his grasp, and black letters engraved on the pure white pages surged forth, summoning seawater onto the floor. It greedily devoured the transparent water that bound Ian's ankle.
“[Aaaaaaaa!!!]”
A scream came from beyond the blood-red window.
He ignored it. Ian kept his eyes only on Lairie and moved his lips.
“Three.”
“What exactly are you to them?”
Crunch!
The surging Outer Sea condensed into a hammer and smashed Lairie's head to pieces. Rotten flesh, bone, and brain matter were flung everywhere. The headless body collapsed limply, and Ian clicked his tongue as he stood up.
“Stupid bastard. So you won't even spit out the information.”
“You like information, don't you.”
“...!”
Ian's body came to a sudden halt at the voice coming from behind him.
A voice that should not have been there. Lairie's voice, which should have just had its head smashed, came from the flowerpot behind him.
Ian twisted his face in disgust and stepped back, and from the fully bloomed rosebud, Lairie crawled out like a fetus.
“Hoo, I apologize for just now. I, a librarian, lost my composure for even a moment after hearing something unexpected. I still lack skill, it seems.”
Covered in blood from head to toe and reborn without a single wound, she smiled brightly at Ian's flustered expression.
“Surprised?”
“...You.”
“As I said, you can kill me as many times as you want. The power you just used is enough to do it. Sea of Death. A spell that manipulates the Outer Sea embedded in the grimoire. A basic spell that can be operated with nothing but mental strength, without any chant or magic circle. And a power with just that much consumption.”
She plucked one of the roses embedded in her hair and swallowed it, exhaling a breath. That breath soon became a black rose, forming a dress.
“You can't use it recklessly, can you? Because the price has to be paid.”
“...”
“In the end, even if it's the power of an Outer God, as long as it takes the form of magic, its limits are clear. No one knows that better than I do. You're barely standing right now, aren't you? You're pretending to be fine, but that headache must be pretty bad.”
He was right. But Ian gave no sign of it, exhaled, and gripped the grimoire tightly.
“What's your purpose?”
“Conversation. I've never met a human who gives off the scent of the gods as strongly as you do, so I wanted to have a deep conversation. There's also someone I'd like to introduce to you.”
“...An introduction?”
When Ian asked, Lairie smiled faintly. But the corners of her mouth drooped.
“Ah, I envy you.”
“...What?”
“A person loved by the gods! A person wrapped head to toe in their favor! A person who hasn't gone mad and is still alive and well!”
“...What are you suddenly—”
“Don't you think that's a little unfair?”
Click.
Lairie took a step toward Ian. But no footsteps sounded. Only the loud crack of her neck bending ninety degrees and her bones breaking rang out.
“Someone else was chosen by the gods and betrayed their homeland, and ended up like this.”
“...”
“Why is the gods' mercy only for you? What about me? What about me? Why me? Why me? Why? Why? Why did I have to kill my family with these hands, kill the king, kill the nobles, and sink a city beneath the waves?”
“Crazy bitch.”
Ian narrowed his eyes and turned the page of the grimoire. Then, placing an aberration's flesh over the magic circle engraved on the page, he stepped back.
“Fire. His mercy has reached all. My heart and body are hers.”
“Ah, even the incantation is full of love. And that too was granted to you—”
CRACK!
The Outer Sea anchor that had been flung blasted Lairie's body apart without leaving a trace.
At the same time, Lairie was reborn from the remaining flower.
“—It seems to be magic. How beautiful. And yet why has that beauty not been granted to me?”
“...So annoying.”
An ability that kept being born again no matter how many times you killed it. Ian decided to clear away the flowers first, drew a revolver, and aimed the muzzle at the roses.
At that moment, Lairie spoke with a laugh in her voice.
“My homeland, my city, my country. Ah, R'lyeh, a place whose very name was profaned by the gods' playfulness, until even its original form was lost.”
R'lyeh.
A place name that could never be ignored had burst from her lips. Ian glared at Lairie with savage eyes.
“...R'lyeh?”
Normally, there would be no need to overreact to that name at all.
After all, it was nothing more than the name of a city in a work of fiction.
R'lyeh, the submerged city described in Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos. That was all there was to it.
But Ian knew that there existed an Outer God's grimoire connected to R'lyeh.
Its name was:
The Submersion of R'lyeh.
Lairie laughed.
Her head spun around, tore free, and fell to the floor, and inside the corpse she was newly conceived before tearing open her womb and being born again.
“My homeland, my world, reduced to a god's playground, where even the grimoire's name was chosen as if to mock the city's downfall.”
“...You.”
“Allow me to introduce myself once more.”
Lairie lightly pinched up the hem of her skirt with her fingers and offered Ian a graceful bow.
“My name is Lairie. One who was given that name. The curator of this museum, the sole creator's confidant, the one in anguish, the assistant, the flowerbed and the flower, the vase without water, the spreader of beauty, the survivor of the submerged city, the one who receives His grace, the puppet, the doll.”
“...”
“Also a traitor and butcher. A slaughterer. A witch. The library's librarian. The chosen one. The one reduced to a plaything. The mage. The prophet. The noble. And the apostle. In the end, the nanny who gave up her human guise and was made to guard the next heir. The one forced into it.”
She shed bloody tears.
“The first person to possess the grimoire [The Submersion of R'lyeh]. The one who profaned the city's name as 'R'lyeh' and passed it down to later generations. The one who brainwashed the creator. The defiled one. The one who lost her true name and fell to simply Lairie.”
And.
“The 'human' I hate so much, you who are loved by the gods.”
She gripped the pendant around her neck tightly and bowed her head.
“Lairie. To you, who serve three gods, I offer my heartfelt greetings and condolences.”
May you, too, fall and be corrupted like me.
She added that with a faint smile. Ian stared at her for a moment, then switched grimoires with a sneer.
“So you were just a loser after all.”