Chapter 16
History is merely a word signifying the accumulation of records.
It was Dercia's conviction, though she regarded it as simple fact rather than a belief.
If all records capturing the landscape of an era were lost, how could its existence be discussed?
Who would remember an age that wasn't even given a name?
Therefore, history is nothing more than a record. It can be no more, and no less.
Up to this point, it was a somewhat agreeable thought, but Dercia took it a step further.
*Isn't that—too terrible a thing?*
The existence of lost eras, the forgetting of miraculous inventions that could change lives—isn't that the kind of thing that sends shivers down one's spine and chokes one's breath just imagining it?
Someone must bear the responsibility.
And that someone is our race.
We, the Long-lived Race, are the ones entrusted with the role of safeguarding records!
Abandon your life and explore all records.
When twilight approaches, begin to record everything you've read.
And then die. What happier life could there be than this?
It didn't take long for Dercia, after seriously expounding her utterly bizarre way of thinking, to be labeled insane and face Expulsion from Paradise.
Usually, an Elf who suffers Expulsion from Paradise ends his or her life by suicide not long after, but Dercia simply decided to live among humans and became the owner of a Magic Tower.
That was a hundred years ago, but Dercia had never once regretted that day's choice.
On the contrary, no matter how many times she reconsidered, she believed it was the right choice.
Behold.
This vast world was still full of unknowns to be discovered.
This was something she would never have seen in Paradise. She smiled gently and advised,
It was already evening, starting to get dark, and far too late.
There was nothing I could do. The blood flowing from my eyes wouldn't stop, and there was no way I'd have bandages.
It was hell itself. Blood tears flowed again over the dried blood. Even a slight movement made me gasp for breath, and the density thickened.
Anyone seeing me would think a corpse was moving.
Also, I'd heard that Undead truly existed in this world, so to avoid suspicion, I took deserted paths, which made the journey take too long.
Fortunately, there were no guards, so I entered using lock-picking, which I was now very accustomed to.
Let's wait here for Dercia tomorrow.
Thinking that was the best option, I quietly entered the Library and immediately heard the rustle of pages turning.
...?
At this late hour?
Amidst white hair, black eyes that had been fixed on a book turned towards me.
It was always mysterious. Aside from her being of an Other Race, it was her very aura.
...I apologize for the late hour.
*Drip, drip*... *Shouldn't I apologize for dirtying the floor first?* As I awkwardly greeted her, Dercia raised her right hand.
First, wipe that blood off.
Instantly, the sticky, dried blood vaporized.
*Thud.* She closed the book with a sound and stared at me without asking any questions.
Rather—it felt like she was waiting for *my* question.
Hmm, I know it's rude to suddenly show up and say this, but...
As I racked my brain, I felt blood flowing from my eyes again.
Did you perhaps know this would happen?
Yes.
Dercia admitted lightly.
Though it's much worse than I expected.
Ah, I'm sorry.
I wiped my eyes, roughly smearing the blood on my butler's uniform, and asked,
"What's happening to me?"
You're remarkable. You've worked very hard.
...Huh?
You are answering a different question.
I tilted my head and looked at Dercia. I didn't understand what she meant.
Instead of answering, she began to play house. She stood books upright and placed another on top to form a small house.
*What is she doing?* I thought, when she suddenly uttered something strange.
Imagine this: the space between these books is a sealed chamber inside a giant steel box.
...Ah, yes.
Could anything arise within it? Nothing was placed inside beforehand, and there's no way to intervene from the outside.
No, it couldn't.
Precisely. But what if something *did* arise?
Dercia pushed a small candle into the structure made of books.
That's probably me in her analogy.
It shouldn't exist, yet it has. Given that only the result exists, what do you think is the most appropriate course of action for 'this thing'?
An escape, isn't it?
Do you think a tiny candle could melt through a steel wall? Some impossibilities are truly impossible. This is one of them.
Then I don't know.
Indeed. In that case, what do you think is the way to endure the longest?
...To stay still?
You are indeed astute.
Dercia then blocked the candle completely with other books, so it couldn't be seen.
It is not a being of that world to begin with. It is a being with a body and mind composed of this world's elements. Survival is impossible, and it is clear that sitting still and awaiting death is the path to living the longest.
...
That's why I said you've worked hard. Truly, you've worked unbelievably hard—to reach this state...
Dercia looked at the blood tears that had started flowing again, staining my butler's uniform, and smiled with an expression of admiration.
An Elf was smiling admiringly at a 10-year-old child shedding blood tears. It was a rather surreal sight.
You must have learned Magic. You must have understood the laws of that world, even if only slightly. Not content with merely being in contact with it all day, you must have experienced and learned. Perhaps you thought, *it's not another world—it's a place I can understand and accept.*
You're entirely correct. So what?
My words were sharp, but Dercia paid no mind.
Don't be ashamed. Those blood tears are the fruit of your efforts. At the end of your struggles in that Deep Sea, you are slowly drawing closer to the inevitable destruction that will one day arrive. Ah, please don't misunderstand. Enduring doesn't mean you'll survive when you reach the end. It's merely the difference between dying in pain and dying after living a normal life.
So there's no way to stop it, then.
Of course there is. There are two ways, in fact.
She smiled faintly and held up her fingers.
As I told you before, I will present the most efficient options, relying on what you've heard, what you've experienced, and your astuteness.
Dercia folded one finger.
*Crack!* The book on the floor writhed, then shriveled.
A purple powder, emitting smoke, remained. I frowned and bent down to touch it; it felt like sand.
What is this?
It's Ranya.
What's Ranya?
Hmm, in human terms... it would be a drug.
My hand immediately shook, horrified.
It's not that, so rest assured. Unlike drugs, it's highly toxic; consuming it causes your brain to shrivel and you die instantly.
Could you explain where the reassuring part is?
At one time, some human Emperors sacrificed everything they had accumulated in search of Ranya. One will experience a pleasure greater than anything one has ever tasted for a few seconds just before death after consuming Ranya.
Ah, that's not bad.
I knew what Dercia was suggesting and smiled.
It was an extension of what she'd mentioned before.
I could accept it because I knew it was her way of showing concern for me.
If I stay still, I die.
If I struggle, I die painfully.
Given that death was the outcome no matter what I did, she was offering to at least eliminate the pain.
It was the most rational choice.
But I don't want to.
I stomped on the Ranya, crushing it.
Dercia didn't get angry. Instead, she asked with interest.
Hmm. I'm curious as to why.
As I said before, I can't die feeling wronged.
My reason for wanting to survive isn't simply survival itself.
It's a statement that goes beyond absurd; it's a contradiction in itself, but it's true.
If I'm going to die either way, I'll struggle to the very end.
Struggling itself is my purpose.
Of course, saying all that would be too long, so I condensed it appropriately.
Death is something you only experience once in life, so I'd rather experience it painfully.
...
Dercia's expression slowly turned blank.
Did she not like the joke? She pursed her lips while looking at me, then her expression became one of serious contemplation as she held her chin.
I can't do that much...
What is she thinking about?
*Is she going to force me to die for my own good?*
She might actually do that. As I slowly backed away, she folded another finger.
Another method also exists.
What is it?
Try to persuade me.
?
As I wondered what she meant, Dercia puffed out her chest.
Jereun, as I told you before, you are more than just unusual; you are an anomalous being.
Didn't you say there were a few Fallen Mages like me?
She shook her head, denying it.
That's a different class entirely. In the past, there was a strange group that went around destroying the Deep Realms of Mages, claiming that 'falling' was the only path to ascension. Because of them, there's a lot of information about Deep Realm Mages. However, none of them were born with a Deep Realm.
"Is that so?"
It is. Frankly, I'm curious. I want to know more about you, Jereun. You see, I am addicted to the act of committing things to record in my mind.
...Her way of speaking was a bit much.
However, I possess a conscience.
You do?? Really???
...Yes. Analysis, of course, means recording your death. How will a human born in hell suffer and die? What drives them? What will they leave behind? It's a cruel thing. Even more so when the subject is a 10-year-old child.
Most importantly, Ciel is the problem... Dercia added this strange remark then cleared her throat.
If you can show me something that makes me set aside my conscience, I will take you as my Disciple.
Then what changes?
Everything changes. If you have a Great Mage with Nine Stars as your Master, you'll be able to attempt things far beyond your current conditions. Even if it still leads to death, you'll be able to struggle more fiercely than now.
Honestly, it was a tempting offer.
At least my money problems would be solved. I couldn't keep causing a ruckus at gambling dens every time I ran short of cash.
Make yourself shine. I hear you're at the Academy. Any method is fine. If you can make rumors of a natural talent who has mastered strange Magic reach the ears of the Great Mage, then—
Dercia said, with the same unsettling smile as before,
—I will come find you myself.
...Understood.
There was no other way. I had a brief staring contest with her, then, annoyed by the constant bleeding, I rubbed my eyes.
So, can't you do anything about this? I feel like I'll bleed to death before I can even do anything.
I've prepared something in advance.
Dercia floated a pouch towards me. When I opened it, it was filled with blood-red pills.
One every two days should be enough, but if you need to use your Magic a lot, take one daily. Think of it as a hemostatic and headache medicine... that will put your mind at ease. As for the other burdens, you'll have to endure them yourself.
That's enough. Thank you.
It's just a slight sensation of being underwater, and my vision is a bit reduced.
*But if she had it, why didn't she give it to me before we talked...?* I immediately took one out and crunched it, and the bleeding stopped as if by magic.
*Fast-acting.*
*...But what's this?*
I pointed to Dercia, who was observing me with an expression that suggested I was a plump pig.
Is that... part of the performance?
The trapped candle had escaped the steel box.
More precisely—it was burning all the books.
...Indeed.
Dercia calmly snapped her fingers, extinguishing the fire, as if nothing had happened. "I meant for you to become a flame like that."
I silently stared at her shameless face.
Well, I'm only here to learn Magic.
***
Haa...
It was well into the night by the time I returned to the Orphanage.
So much had happened that I just wanted to rest, but I couldn't lie down. I wanted to go to the Orphanage Director first to assure her I was safe, as she would be worried, but—
The Director's Office was dark, and no one was there.
?
This time I returned to the Dormitory, and no one was there again.
A chill ran down my spine.
Revenge, perhaps? Had they finally identified me and come for me?
Tsk...!
I had to check. Just as I was about to kick open the door and leave, I met eyes with someone entering, holding a lantern.
...Jereun? It seems you're all right.
It was the Orphanage Director, drenched in sweat. Was she looking for me? Her still anxious expression suggested it didn't seem so.
What's wrong? No one's here.
*Oh, right!* It's terrible, Jereun!
The Orphanage Director grabbed my shoulder, her face pale with fright.
Linmel is missing!
...What?
*What in the world is she talking about now?*