Chapter 10
The temple was a vessel for desperate prayers.
The building, constructed as the culmination of civilization, was tall and spacious. With sacred symbols and holy paintings displayed throughout, the temple radiated a solemn, old-fashioned atmosphere.
In front of such a magnificent house of God, how pitiful was a mere human being?
The lowly creatures of the earth were meant to kneel and offer their prayers to God. It was something that required long forging, like a grain of sand enduring light and heat in a blast furnace.
To pray to God was proof that one could accomplish nothing through one’s own strength alone.
That was why it was so earnest, and so desperate. The only thing one could cling to was a transcendent being from whom not even an answer would return.
The same was true of the treatment center located within the temple.
The temple on academy grounds doubled as the theology lecture hall and a residence for high priests. It was there to prepare for accidents that occurred during training.
Even during training, classes were conducted with actual combat in mind. The slightest mistake could easily result in injuries.
Of course, most of them only needed a few days of treatment at most.
High-risk training, including sparring, required an academy professor’s supervision. Accidents beyond the ability of those renowned experts from across the continent to handle were rare.
However, that did not mean the temple never received patients beyond its ability to treat.
Fourth-year students dispatched for field exercises such as magical beast extermination, or students who suffered accidents while carelessly wandering through dangerous areas of the academy grounds, sometimes sustained injuries severe enough to be fatal.
Emma was no different. She was not dead yet, but there had been no word of improvement, even after high priests dispatched from the Holy Kingdom—and even the saintess—had poured their divine power into her since the previous dawn.
It was understandable. I had heard that her intestines had spilled out.
In the meantime, many people had gathered to pray outside the temple’s intensive care room before leaving.
They were all people connected to Emma: her supervising professor, seniors and juniors who knew her, close classmates, and Leto and me.
With my face cupped in my hands, I went over what had happened yesterday afternoon. I regretted it. The potion Emma had given me was still in my possession.
Around then, the saintess who had been directing Emma’s treatment alongside the high priests from the Holy Kingdom left the intensive care room, looking exhausted.
I jerked upright from where I had been sitting blankly with my face in my hands. Perhaps she was already accustomed to such things, because the saintess clasped her hands as if in prayer and bowed her head.
“Immanuel.”
“May God be with you,” was the greeting used in the Holy Kingdom instead of hello.
Seeing my anxious expression, the saintess half-closed her eyes as though she understood my situation. Perhaps she had overexerted herself pouring out divine power, because her already snow-white complexion had become so pale that it seemed almost bloodless.
Silver hair that gently reflected the light, and pale-pink eyes tinged with faint sorrow.
She was beautiful enough to make me think that, if there was a god, he must be a shamelessly biased favoritist. Under normal circumstances, I might have lost myself admiring her.
But today, Leto’s and my eyes were fixed not on her face, but on her lips. As though we were asking her to say anything at all.
Her lips, which usually formed a gentle smile, were tightly closed today and showed no sign of opening.
Perhaps she found it difficult to keep ignoring the gazes of two young lambs begging for a miracle, because the saintess let out a small sigh. Her lips opened cautiously.
“To be honest, the situation isn’t good.”
That was a truth more frightening than empty consolation. My body collapsed back into the chair like a bundle of dry straw.
I let out a long sigh. It was what I had expected. I forced myself to calm down.
“She was left with her intestines spilling out for far too long. A few hours, I would guess? The contamination has already spread to her internal organs. She is still breathing only because Miss Emma drank a potion that put her into a state of suspended animation at the last moment.”
It was a potion that alchemists carried around in preparation for emergencies.
Once a person entered suspended animation, their heartbeat slowed dramatically, and they would not die even if they suffered severe bleeding. Along with various auxiliary effects, the potion was designed to maximize the user’s chances of survival.
But even that had limits. Having one’s intestines spill out was an injury among the most severe. Divine power was not omnipotent, and with an injury of that magnitude, one had to prepare for death.
There was always a chance. If one offered a valuable enough sacrifice, perhaps a miracle might be granted.
But Emma, who was no more than a herbalist’s daughter, could never afford such a sacrifice, and neither could I, despite feeling responsible for her injuries.
It was a world where even the miracles granted by God were unequal. My eyes drooped, filled with dark prospects.
“There is still some hope. But for now… it would be best for you to prepare yourselves. I heard that Miss Emma’s parents will be arriving soon.”
The saintess looked at Leto and me with gentle concern. She silently studied our faces, then shook her head.
“Telling her parents about Miss Emma’s condition may be painful. If it is too difficult to bear, it would be best for you to return to your dormitory.”
“……No, I’ll wait.”
A dry voice escaped my throat. The saintess stared at me for a long moment. Her pale-pink gaze seemed to ask a question.
Was I really all right? I nodded weakly.
“I was the last person to see your daughter, after all. As her friend, I should at least tell you what she looked like, in case it was the last time.”
And if only I had urged Emma a little more strongly then, or trusted the contents of the letter just a little more.
It was already too late. And it probably wasn’t my responsibility alone. Anyone would have found it difficult to say that a letter had flown in from seven years in the future and warned that you would be injured.
Even if I had warned her, Emma would probably have laughed it off as nonsense. Even so, the guilt of failing to do so remained in my heart.
Leto was no different. He was not responsible either, but this had happened while Emma was obtaining materials needed for his research. He was sitting here to bear his moral responsibility.
A sigh escaped his lips. He pressed a hand to his forehead.
“If I’d known this would happen, I never should have asked Emma to do it… Damn it.”
“……No one is to blame.”
At Leto’s lament, the saintess declared that firmly. Her voice was still gentle, but her tone held strong conviction.
“Everyone who is facing the death of someone dear to them says the same thing. That it was their fault, that they should have done more… But several students die at the academy every year. The only difference is that Miss Emma may be one of them this time.”
As she continued speaking, the saintess drew the sign of the cross over her own chest. It was as though mortals facing matters of life and death ought to do so.
If the situation had been different, I might have found myself admiring the saintess’s ample breasts. But at that moment, neither Leto nor I had any such thoughts.
We merely remained silent.
A human being who could do nothing could say nothing either. That was only natural.
“Neither providence nor chance can be held accountable by the power of a mere mortal. So, brothers, do not blame yourselves too much.”
With those words, she clasped her hands again and bowed her head. It was a farewell. Apparently, she intended to leave for a while.
“Of course, if it were really that simple, no one would suffer… May you find peace of mind once more. Immanuel.”
Leaving behind that passing murmur, the saintess departed.
Even after she left, Leto and I remained slumped outside the intensive care room for a long time.
The prospect of losing someone was unfamiliar to me. I had attended only a handful of funerals in my life.
Let alone the death of a friend, even if she was not someone I had been particularly close to—the death of someone I might have been able to prevent.
It would be a lie to say my thoughts were not complicated. My empty eyes stared into space, unaware of the passage of time.
What jolted my mind awake as it sank damply beneath the weight of regret and guilt was the wailing of a peasant.
“Oh, Emma! Emma, my daughter!”
Leto and I came to our senses, our gazes chasing the source of the sound. A shabby-looking man was hurrying down the temple corridor toward us.
His beard and hair were both unkempt, so he was far from neat-looking. He even carried a modest load roughly slung together in a single bundle.
Leto and I sprang to our feet, quickly guessing who he was. The man, whose hair was streaked with gray, collapsed in front of the intensive care room.
He wore an expression that showed he was unsure whether he was even allowed to enter. I cautiously approached him.
“Excuse me… are you Emma’s father?”
“……Huh? You know my daughter?”
There was no doubt. Once Leto and I were certain that he was Emma’s father, we immediately bowed. It was the proper etiquette to show the parent of a friend.
“I’m Ian Perkus, Emma’s friend.”
“And I’m Leto Ainston, Emma’s classmate.”
At our introductions, Emma’s father opened his eyes wide and looked back and forth between Leto and me. Then he blinked and remained silent for a long while.
Then came Emma’s father’s reaction.
“P-Perkus? A-Ainston……? N-Nobles! Goodness, I-I’m sorry! This country bumpkin is poorly educated and failed to recognize you young masters……”
He prostrated himself and began begging us for forgiveness.
Leto looked at me helplessly, while I looked down at him with pity and sorrow.
The problems of life were this cruel.
Cruel enough that, even with his daughter’s death looming before him, he had to beg forgiveness for failing to recognize a noble.
That was truly too painful to bear.