“My wife’s health deteriorated rapidly after giving birth to Mia.”

Tom spoke with quiet resignation.

“At first, I thought it was just the usual weakness from childbirth, but her condition worsened with each passing day. We couldn’t determine the cause or name of the illness. I procured every medicine said to be beneficial, but nothing improved her condition.”

“Then early this year, a stranger visited our village,” he continued.

“He proclaimed, ‘Do you need medicine that cures all ailments? Here it is, what you’ve all been waiting for. Unexplained pain, weakness, headaches, joint pain… regardless of which part of your body suffers, just one dose, just one, will heal everything completely! Think carefully, as you’ll never see this medicine again after today…'”

Tom’s voice grew softer.

“Even knowing he was a fraud, I spent my entire savings on that medicine. It was completely transparent, so clear that my ailing wife and young daughter were perfectly visible through the glass vial. It had no smell whatsoever and was indistinguishable from well water. But…”

“I wanted to believe. I desperately wanted to believe it would free my wife from her suffering. So I gave her the medicine.”

“Did she transform immediately after taking it?”

Brote asked gently.

“No, not at all. At first, just as the swindler promised, she truly got better. I had hope. Hope that my wife might rise from her sickbed and return to how she was before our child was born.”

Having said this much, Tom gazed up at the distant sky, seemingly lost in memories. Derien pieced together the truth behind the incident based on Tom’s story. The epidemic, the manaha, and the medicine.

He understood how the disease that began in the South had spread across the entire continent, and even who might be involved.

There was only one group capable of such actions.

The remnants of the old religion who had marked Brote as a sacrifice, brought her to the North, and fed honeyed words to Derien and his butler. No one else was so obsessed with gods, relics, and the curses bound to them.

“The first abnormal symptoms appeared in our neighbor’s child, who was Mia’s friend,” Tom continued.

“Mia witnessed the horror when she went to play at their house. By the time I heard my daughter’s screams and rushed over, it was already too late. The child had not only devoured their parents but was consuming their own hands. The villagers and I performed the most merciful act we could for that child.”

A heavy, uncomfortable silence followed, eventually broken by Tom.

“It happened that night. Like any other evening, I was telling my wife about the day’s events. The table was set with modest but warm food, and the mealtime atmosphere felt normal as always.”

He recalled the conversation: “‘Did you hear about the terrible incident next door? Mia is deeply shocked. It happened to her dear friend. Why don’t you comfort her?'”

“But my wife’s response was strange. ‘Darling, I’m hungry. It’s strange… I’m so hungry.'”

“In the middle of our serious conversation about the tragedy next door, she just kept repeating those words. I served her a portion of my food and tried speaking to her again, but her answer remained the same: ‘Hungry… strange.'”

“That’s when Mia mentioned that her friend had also frequently complained about unusual hunger, regardless of the conversation topic. In that moment, I sensed an indescribable foreboding. And that evening, it happened. People throughout the village simultaneously transformed into ‘those things’ and began attacking their families and neighbors.”

Derien glanced at the child standing beside Tom. Recalling the trauma of that day, her face had turned deathly pale. Brote must have noticed too, as she held the child’s hand firmly while gently stroking the wound on her arm.

“So Mia’s injury happened then,” Derien observed quietly.

“Yes. It was my failure to protect her,” Tom admitted.

The epidemic, the medicine, and the manaha. Whatever conclusion Brote had drawn from their connection, she nodded with determination.

She then rummaged through the travel bag Derien was carrying and retrieved the stationery she often used for letters to ‘Edith.’

“Here, go find ‘Edith Settler,'” she said, offering the paper to Tom.

“Why this person…?”

“She can help you. And if by some chance she refuses, just mention my name. Tell her Brote sent you to her.”

Tom stared at the letter in Brote’s hand for a long moment without accepting it. His life had clearly been too harsh for him to readily accept help that might be either genuine kindness or deception from travelers he’d just met.

“Thank you!”

Mia exclaimed suddenly.

“Mia!”

Regardless of her father’s hesitation, the child had no intention of missing an opportunity that might cure her mother.

She let go of her father’s trouser leg, ran to Brote, and accepted the letter. She bowed deeply, lowering her head almost to her toes.

“Dad, what are you doing? Hurry and thank them too!”

Seemingly speechless at his daughter’s boldness, Tom stammered before biting his lip and bowing his head.

In this warm atmosphere, Derien noticed the man he had knocked unconscious earlier was now awake, blinking and looking around.

The man was clearly preparing to flee at the first opportunity, but Derien pretended not to notice. 

There was no reason to detain him, and as long as he posed no threat to Brote, Derien didn’t care what he did.

“I won’t forget this kindness. Well then…”

“Derien, could you escort them to Edith?” Brote asked suddenly.

“No! No, that’s not necessary!” Tom protested.

Concerned about the manaha wrapped in the blanket, the child, the man who had fled, and the bandits likely scattered throughout the area, Brote had intended to entrust their protection to Derien.

But Tom waved his hands and shook his head at her suggestion.

“What I mean is… you’ve done more than enough already. Thank you for the letter. Really… we’ll be fine.”

Derien nearly found himself nodding in agreement. Indeed, judging by how Tom had handled the dagger earlier, he was clearly not someone who would be easily overcome.

“We’ve managed well so far, so please don’t worry. If we safely meet this person, I’ll repay this kindness someday, no matter how long it takes. So please, no more…”

Unable to insist further in the face of Tom’s polite but firm refusal, Brote nodded slightly with a “Well, if you insist…” and bid them farewell.

“Thank you so much… big sister.”

Perhaps overwhelmed by the joy of possibly saving her mother, Mia wiped her nose and waved to Brote. Brote waved back, her hand fluttering like butterfly wings.

“Goodbye…”

Watching Brote wave to the child, Derien drew in a sharp breath. She likes children. The realization was unmistakable. Her face was filled with wistfulness born from their brief encounter.

Not only that, but her naturally raised eyebrows and lips formed a genuine smile rather than her usual faint one, and her voice was a tone higher than normal.

Derien absorbed this new side of Brote, storing the discovery in his mind.

And he suffered for it. Living eternally meant being robbed of death. For one without death, birth could never exist.

Ironically, Derien felt both the joy of discovering a new facet of Brote and the crushing weight of a stone settling in his chest.

Guilt tormented him. He dreaded imagining what expression Brote might wear someday when she learned this truth.

Finding even the thought too sinful to contemplate, Derien bit his lower lip hard. The complicated emotions spread across his entire face.

However Brote interpreted his expression, she firmly grasped Derien’s hand as they watched Tom and Mia depart.

The sun was already setting. It was time to decide whether to hurry and cross the mountain or make camp here again. After some consideration, Derien resolved to cross the mountain.

Though they had plenty of time, the recent commotion and the escaped man made this location unsuitable for camping. He didn’t want to deal with potential trouble that might arise here.

His decision may have been slow, but his action was swift. Just as Derien turned to Brote to ask her opinion:

“I think we should leave before sunset… Brote, what do you—”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“Pardon? Ask what…”

“Why I sent those two to Edith.”

“Ah…”

He responded awkwardly, tilting his head. Not understanding why she posed such a question, he could only blink in confusion.

“I gave her the remaining fruit.”

Fruit. Derien nodded as he recalled the fruit she mentioned, the blood-red fruit that had been in her hand when she returned from death, the same fruit that had given his butler peace.

She had given that fruit to that woman.

‘So that’s how it was. That’s how the Crown Prince was able to draw the southern forces to his side.’

But what did that have to do with anything?

As Derien gazed at Brote again, she lifted her eyes from the ground to meet his. Her two eyes, which had always been so calm that he thought them the night sky, now wavered like a ship caught in turbulent waters.

Only then did he realize that what he had thought was the distant blackness of the night sky was actually a calm sea reflecting that sky.

In those eyes, beneath that black veil, anxiety, impatience, and fear seemed to transmit to Derien, causing him to clench his fists tightly.

He wanted to hear more. No, if it would trouble her, he didn’t want to hear it. Killing this conflict within himself, he waited for her next words.

After a moment had passed, Brote closed her eyes firmly then opened them, seemingly shaking off her hesitation. Her black eyes, now calm again, met Derien’s.

“Can you promise me something? That even after my story ends, you will never leave me.”

“I promise.”

A promise is mutual. My vow not to leave you means you cannot leave me either. Instead of saying this aloud, Derien knelt before her. He accepted her proposal, pretending not to understand its full implications.

Whether their remaining lives would end in tragedy or comedy was impossible to predict, but Derien simply hoped that when looking back on this day in the distant future, his current feelings would not be stained with regret.

No, he was determined to create happiness with all his might, ensuring that regret would never tarnish this moment.