Every Change Requires a Spark.
I close the door, and our gazes meet. Beatrice, too, came to my rescue, taking the initiative to do so. Although the motives do not truly matter.
"Thank you for healing me," I say with a smile as I approach Beatrice.
She neither smiles nor reacts, instead choosing to turn her back to me.
"If you're already well, I suppose I have nothing more to say," murmurs Beatrice, taking a few steps before coming to a halt. She clenches her hands tightly. "Don't risk yourself like that again. This time it was a bet, but it won't happen again, in fact."
Beatrice quickly retreats, disappearing from my sight, likely heading towards the library. In the end, I suppose I hurt her. I'll have to do something to cheer her up. Perhaps I can spend some time with her tonight.
After a few minutes, Ram emerges from the room, wearing a smile. But upon seeing me, she nods in gratitude.
"Thank you. I don't know what you did, but thanks for giving me the chance to talk to her again. I had given up a long time ago, but now I see a different look in her eyes."
For the first time, Ram seems to show genuine respect. She rises with a smile, but her expression quickly turns serious. She knows I'm not up for this kind of thing right now, while the people of the village are suffering.
Why do I care so much? I don't even know them. When I went there, I only exchanged the usual greetings, never really interacting with them.
I suppose I feel guilty too.
"I haven't done a full count of the wounded, but I know more than ten people have died," Ram says, looking out of the window, her face reflecting concern. "Including one of the children they rescued."
"What?" I ask, confused. "How is that possible? The children were fine. If they were cursed, Beatrice should have healed them." I distinctly remember the children being unconscious, with no serious injuries, just some minor bites. Beatrice could have healed them.
While I meander in thought, my mind returns to that child with the vacant gaze, who seemed alive yet not entirely so.
Ram disrupts my reverie.
"One of the children Rem brought with her. When we noticed, the child had wandered off again. Some locals went in search of him, but when they found him, it was already too late," Ram turns toward me, gazing directly into my eyes, unwavering in her narration. "The child had lost his parents in that direction. He witnessed the Wolgarms taking them. He went in that direction and... Well, you know what happened."
More than ten lives lost. Were it not for Emilia and Beatrice, that count would have risen even higher. I must muster my strength. Life and death loom around every corner.
I must stay resilient and press forward.
"We must take stock of the victims, assess all the damages before Roswaal's return. If you're here without him, that means he hasn't returned yet, correct?"
"Yes, Lord Roswaal has not returned yet."
"Then there's no time to waste. Let's go, you and I. Rem will join us when she's ready."
I turn halfway and head towards the mansion's exit. But before I can take a few steps, Ram halts me, gripping my jacket.
"First, you must speak with Miss Emilia. There's something you need to know..."
Ram begins to divulge information previously unknown to me.
As it turns out, Emilia took it upon herself to heal most of the injured individuals. According to Ram, she did an outstanding job, especially considering the injuries were not complex. While Emilia tended to the healing, she also fought alongside Ram to protect the people from the Wolgarms, which are dog-like mabeasts. However, there came a moment when Beatrice was occupied, and a severely wounded person emerged from among the rescued.
Emilia was compelled to abandon the others and focus on saving that person, whose injuries were mortal.
"I suppose it was you who provided that sort of first aid in that situation, which is why they survived until then."
Those words elucidated the situation for me. Apparently, I had administered a form of first aid in that critical moment, explaining why the person had survived until that point. I had applied pressure to the abdomen to stem the bleeding and prevent organ damage. There might have been complications during the transfer.
Emilia labored for more than two hours in her attempt to heal. Beatrice mentioned her distant location from the mansion, which hindered her ability to continue the healing due to her dwindling mana. She resolved to return but not before imparting some brief counsel to Emilia.
I truly owe Beatrice my gratitude.
For some reason, Rem refrained from using healing magic on them, leaving little else to be done at that moment. Also, as she had returned to the forest, Emilia stood as the sole person capable of providing healing.
"Emilia seems to have erred; her mana briefly went awry, and the individual perished."
Healing magic necessitates synchronizing one's mana with that of the wounded person. When dealing with complex injuries, the caster must contribute their own mana. Emilia, with her formidable mana, requires exceptional control over it. It appears she lost focus, resulting in an overload of mana within the person, quite literally "burning" their mana pathways. Veins, heart, and organs endured immense strain.
"It wasn't a painless demise. The individual writhed and screamed for a few minutes before passing," Ram adds.
Healing magic is not to be taken lightly. It seems more perilous than I had envisioned.
"And what became of Emilia?" I inquire with concern. If people were to pass judgment on her for this, I doubt she could bear it.
"Miss Emilia fainted from the shock," Ram responds.
It's understandable. Subjecting her to such pressure in an unfamiliar environment, with individuals who have likely harbored prejudice against her, and having to save lives amidst the scrutiny of others. Furthermore, her mental age still corresponds to that of a child.
"It's understandable that she experienced such shock," I concede.
"I took her to her room, but she hasn't emerged since. I attempted to knock and open the door, but she shut it."
"I suppose I must go speak with her. After all, it was my proposal to go, so it is my duty to face the consequences."
As I make my way to her room, I attempt to contemplate my current situation. My head throbs, and nausea grips me, but I cannot linger here. Despite feeling wretched, I must press on. As an adult, it is my responsibility to be there to support others, or this will recur in the future.
I am prepared to bear the weight of her emotions.
As I ascend the steps, I feel my body, weakened by last night's battle, protesting. Upon reaching Emilia's room door, I can see that the doorknob is coated in frost.
"She's frozen it from the other side," I muse to myself.
Gathering mana to thaw the door may seem absurd, but if I don't try, she won't open it. Well, at least it's worth an attempt.
I tap gently on the door, with enough force for my knocks to be heard above the rain's patter. I patiently await a response from Emilia.
"Emilia, can you open the door?" I call once more, hoping for a reply. But, once again, silence is the only response I receive. Frustration and concern blend within me. I don't want to force the door, yet I cannot leave her locked inside.
I decide to give it another try, this time approaching the door and placing my hand on the doorknob. I close my eyes and attempt to gather mana slowly, focusing on controlling it to thaw the lock. However, instead of success, a violent surge of energy erupts from my hand, rapidly heating the doorknob until it turns entirely red.
"Ahg!" I exclaim, falling to my knees and placing a hand on my chest to calm my racing heartbeat. The sudden activation of my mana has been overwhelming. My vision begins to blur, and I feel on the verge of fainting, but I cannot afford to do so.
I exert myself to regain balance and stand once more. It has been a harrowing morning indeed.
I patiently wait for the doorknob to regain its normal color, aware that I need to use my mana to control the temperature and prevent my hand from burning. When it finally appears safe to touch, I waste no time and enter Emilia's room. It's my first time setting foot in her quarters.
Upon entering Emilia's room, I am taken aback by the marked difference compared to the previous chambers. It's a spacious and opulent space, akin to that of someone of wealth. There's a large bed with curtains on either side, a vanity next to the nightstand, a spacious wardrobe, and what appears to be an en-suite bathroom.
While surveying the room, I notice a presence beneath the bed sheets. A small spirit emerges from them, revealing itself as Puck. His gaze meets mine, and he shrugs, indicating that he couldn't do anything to calm Emilia in my absence. Afterward, he disappears once more.
I approach Emilia's bedside, uncertain of how to navigate this situation. My emotions waver, torn between displaying anger or empathy, for I find myself in a maelstrom of feelings at this moment. Nonetheless, one fact remains resolute: I cannot allow this situation to remain stagnant.
I must endeavor to aid Emilia in some capacity.
As I seat myself on an unoccupied portion of the bed, I address Emilia with a tone of understanding.
"Emilia."
However, her response catches me off guard. She sobs softly and replies with a tremulous voice.
"Were you not taught to refrain from entering a lady's chamber without her consent?"
Finding the right words proves challenging at this juncture. While it is true that her actions were partly responsible for this predicament due to a lapse in judgment, her intentions were noble. There was no one else who could have saved that man, and if she hadn't acted, he would have perished regardless.
At least, she made an effort.
However, I know she will not readily accept that answer. It's akin to when a physician commits an error resulting in a patient's demise. Ultimately, it is deemed an act of negligence and involuntary manslaughter.
Facing the situation head-on, I say to Emilia:
"I was also taught that I must bend the rules when necessary."
Gently, I take hold of the edge of the sheets that envelop her and begin to uncover her body. First her feet, then her legs, until I reach her torso. Emilia cradles her face in her hands, as if attempting to hide it.
She asks me directly:
"You already know what happened, don't you?"
"Yes."
When I say that, Emilia ceases her resistance to holding onto the sheets, allowing me to see her face.
Observing her disheveled countenance, swollen and tearful eyes, I can discern the profound anguish Emilia has endured throughout the night. I attempt to soften my voice, so as not to sound angry, aware that I need to be compassionate in this moment.
"Emilia, you must..."
However, before I can say anything further, Emilia abruptly rises, contorting her face as she gazes into my eyes and declares with desperation:
"I killed him! I killed him!" Her words grow fainter as she speaks. "I thought I could," she look at me. "When Beatrice couldn't do anything, I wanted to try."
Emilia lowers her head, inhaling and exhaling heavily as she continues to cry. Guilt is consuming her from within, and I know enduring something like this is not easy, especially because she can never forget it.
Unlike Ram, who is indifferent, or even Rem, who may worry but won't be as deeply affected, Emilia holds herself responsible.
The pain lies not merely in the person's demise but in the self-blame that ensues. After all, humans are inherently selfish creatures.
"What happened?" I inquire.
Amidst sobs and attempts to steady her breath, Emilia responds, her voice quivering, "When I was healing him, I didn't realize how fatigued I was. I usually employ magic, but healing demands unwavering focus," she continues, her voice faltering, "and before I knew it, I infused him with my icy mana. I froze parts of his organs and endeavored to mend them, but then the man started vomiting blood and expelling it through every pore."
An overload of mana, just as Ram had mentioned.
"If Beatrice wasn't there, then you were the sole healer. If you hadn't tried, he would have perished regardless."
I attempt to reach for Emilia's hand to offer comfort, but she hurls a pillow at me with force. Fortunately, I manage to evade it, and the pillow collides with the wall, causing a burst of feathers to scatter throughout the room.
Emilia's strength is not to be underestimated.
As she glares at me with fury, Emilia exclaims, "That doesn't matter! I killed him! If I had waited for Rem, perhaps, just perhaps, things might have ended differently. If both of us had joined forces to heal that person, maybe it would have worked."
I'm uncertain of the effectiveness of combined healing magic.
If both join their powers to heal someone, then it might work.
It appears that, like Rem, Emilia seeks reprimand and guilt. For some reason, some individuals believe that receiving reproach from others strengthens their own sense of culpability and provides satisfaction in feeling remorseful.
"What do you want me to do? Do you want me to blame and forsake you? Do you wish to be burdened with unjustified guilt?" I question.
Emilia is momentarily stunned, unable to respond immediately. Her tone shifts, and she lowers her gaze to the floor, unable to lift her face.
"I... No. I just wanted to help," Emilia says, her voice altered as she remains focused on the ground, unable to meet my gaze.
I continue to speak with conviction:
"I am well aware that you only wanted to help. I understand that facing these situations is challenging for you, but you were brave nonetheless, saving many lives." I gently grasp her trembling hands.
However, Emilia persists:
"That doesn't matter!"
I squeeze her hands firmly, despite the headache, fatigue in my body, and the turmoil in my mind. I am here, doing what I must.
"It does matter!" I exclaim vehemently, letting my voice resonate in the room. Emilia, upon hearing this, lifts her gaze and tries to say something, but I don't give her the chance. "When people were injured, you saved them. Do not downplay what you have done."
She attempts to avert her gaze but eventually surrenders, locking eyes with me as she sobs.
"You saved them, and no one can take that away from you. If you say it doesn't matter, it's as if you're underestimating the value of life. The man who died was a loss, yes."
"Then..." Emilia's expression shifts again.
I offer a faint smile, though I'm low on energy, and truth be told, it's difficult to smile.
"But you can't stay here forever. You can't just carry the guilt and that's it. You're still the person who saved the villagers' lives, and no one can take that away from you." I say, placing my hand on Emilia's cheek. She tries to pull away but ultimately doesn't.
"You're the town's heroine, but in the end, you're a thinking being. We all make mistakes."
"I took away all his chances... it's a life," Emilia murmurs as she takes my hand, which is still on her cheek. Her tears fall onto my hand and then trickle down her legs.
I draw closer to her, gently remove my hand, and embrace her, placing her against my chest. Emilia places her hands on my chest, and finally, she reciprocates my embrace, clinging tightly.
"I can't bear this feeling," Emilia whispers as she presses her face against my chest, releasing her sobs and letting out all her emotions. "You're right, Marco. In the end, I'm still a child who knows nothing about life."
"Being an adult doesn't make you insensitive to these situations," I respond softly.
Emilia lifts her face, staring at me, seeking comfort, and understanding in my eyes.
"But you... you seem so composed. I couldn't control myself in that moment. I fainted, shirked my responsibilities, and cried like a child," Emilia murmurs, her voice trembling with tears.
I suppose my remarks have affected her. It was an error on my part.
"Look, being an adult doesn't make you insensitive," I say as I gently wipe away her tears. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's a time for everything."
"For everything?"
"Yes, there's a time to laugh, to get angry, to be sad, to be afraid, to be anxious, to cry. Everything has its moment, and as you experience these emotions, you gain more ability to control them in the future."
I slowly move my face toward hers, trying not to startle her, and rest my forehead against hers delicately.
Emilia remains still, feeling my breath on her skin and closing her eyes. Her sobs gradually diminish, making way for a comforting silence. The tears stop, and she finally opens her eyes, looking into mine with a different gleam, as if she has found something she was searching for.
"And when is the time for this?" Emilia whispers, never breaking our gaze.
"The time for this is now," I reply honestly, gently caressing her cheek with my thumb. "The time to be here with you, to support you, and make you feel better. That's the moment we are living right now."
Emilia smiles faintly, nodding silently. No more needs to be said; we are just there, embracing each other and feeling each other's closeness. Time stands still for a moment, and only the present exists. The intense emotions we've experienced slowly dissipate.
"I'm not at peace, deep down, I feel just like you," I confess. Though I've never cried.
With a calm tone, I continue, "The problem is, if I stop now, if I cease to move forward at this moment, many people will suffer. I can't afford to keep making mistakes, can I?"
Emilia opens her eyes wide.
"That's not my intention!" she exclaims in distress.
"I know," I assure her. "I understand that what you've been through has been very tough on you, but I also know that you can be stronger. If you don't know for whom, then I'll remind you of the reason." I say as I hold her face in my hands. Our faces are very close, but both of us remain composed. "You have to be strong for those who are still alive."
Emilia appears to grasp something, as her sobs cease, and she gazes at me with astonishment.
"The departed can no longer receive anything, but the living still suffer their loss. If that man had a family, then it is your responsibility to do something for them."
"But I can't; I'm the one who hurt them so much," Emilia whispers sadly.
"It is precisely because of that. What you did cannot be undone, but at least you can provide support to his family. So that they too have the right to mourn his loss."
I embrace her tightly. Now is not the time to be stern with her. It's essential that she knows what she must do, that she understands she has the right to grieve in this way.
"When you rise, you must do so for your people. You must earn their support and continue pursuing your dreams."
"I..."
"That's why, because I know you will rise, I will listen to you now. Tell me everything, all those emotions you've held back, those fears you haven't let out. Tell me everything."
The words were enough to unleash an emotional storm in Emilia. In a torrent of tears, she began to vent and express everything she had been holding inside. She spoke of the looks of disdain she received on the streets, how she had to hide her face behind a hood, the fear people felt toward her despite saving them.
She mentioned the pure hatred that excluded her from everything, her profound loneliness, and the longing to have someone by her side. She spoke of her dreams slowly fading and the overwhelming feeling of being disconnected from the world.
Emilia continued to vent, crying, and stammering until she finally fell asleep. Everything she had contained within her, all those emotions waiting to burst forth, were finally released. Now her face is serene.
Carefully, I lay her on the bed and stand up.
The room is silent, except for the gentle sound of Emilia's breathing on the bed. I sit in a nearby chair, observing her closely. Her face is peaceful, as if she's at peace after the emotional storm she has experienced.
But I know better than anyone that Emilia's battle is far from over. She still has to confront her fears and fight against the exclusion, she faces in a society that doesn't understand her. But at least now, she is a little more prepared to do so.
As I ponder all of this, my mind begins to wander, and I remember a phrase I had read once: "There is nothing more powerful than a person who has found their path." This phrase resonates in my mind, and I know it is what Emilia needs. She has to find her path, her purpose, her place in the world.
And as for me, I must continue to follow my own path.
Puck. My initial steps lead me directly towards him. Puck emerges slowly from Emilia's form, casting a smile that stretches from ear to ear in my direction.
"Thank you, Marco. Lia has always concealed this aspect of herself, even from me. She prefers to project strength, but deep down, she remains a young girl longing for understanding," Puck remarks with heartfelt sincerity.
"Sometimes, it is easier to confide in a stranger than those closest to us," I comment, shaking my head.
Puck, however, shakes his head, contradicting my words.
"You are no stranger. Despite our brief acquaintance, I know Emilia holds you in high regard," Puck's countenance shifts to a more solemn one. "But I am aware you did not come here to discuss that."
I decide to exit the room with Puck, so as not to disturb Emilia's rest. Moreover, this allows me to remain vigilant for any nearby presence and ensure our conversation remains private.
"Puck, I reiterate. I am not an adversary; I seek the best outcome for us, and I sincerely harbor no ill intentions toward Emilia, quite the opposite," I emphasize.
Puck nods, acknowledging my intent.
"Then, I have no way to explain how I know, but I implore you to trust me," I request, shrugging my shoulders.
Although I am uncertain about the veracity of my suspicions, all signs point to Roswaal. If he knew this was going to happen or even if he were responsible, it inherently becomes his fault. If he could have prevented it from the outset, he is clearly culpable.
Much like me.
"I understand."
Seeing that Puck offers no resistance, I proceed:
"I have grounds to believe that Roswaal was the instigator of the attack."
Puck falls silent, his expression betraying disbelief at my words.
"I know it doesn't make sense, but what I do know is that if the Book of Wisdom dictates something to him, he will act accordingly, right?" I inquire of Puck, hoping he grasps the essence of my words.
Nevertheless, Puck wears a perplexed expression, futilely sifting through his memories in search of an answer.
"That book you speak of," Puck says, attempting to recollect, "I possess no knowledge of it."
Does he genuinely not recall? How then did he encounter Emilia? How is he privy to Satella's existence? I ponder the experiences that have left Puck with such gaps in his memory.
"For now, it matters not," I say, endeavoring to press forward. "I merely implore you to consider that Roswaal may not be who we believe him to be. I am uncertain whether you place trust in him or not, but I beseech you to keep a watchful eye on him for Emilia's protection."
Puck responds with unwavering determination in his voice: "Don't worry, should he attempt any harm upon Lia, I shall freeze him solid and shatter him into a thousand pieces."
Puck vanishes after uttering those words. For some inexplicable reason, it seems that Puck has lost memories of his past with Echidna. It would have been greatly beneficial to have him by my side, sparing me from taking so many risks.
I do not know how much Roswaal knows, but I will have to test whether he truly possesses the Book of Wisdom, even if it means endangering my own life.
I proceed through the grand corridors of the imposing mansion until I reach the main hall, where Ram awaits with a notebook in hand. Her eyes reflect joy, but I am aware that what has transpired is not as significant to her as seeing her sister in that condition. I understand her perspective, yet I cannot help but feel empathy for the townspeople.
Despite everything, I remain human, burdened with all the guilt and remorse that entails. I have taken lives, witnessed the deaths of friends and family, but I cannot allow that to paralyze me.
The challenges we will soon face pale in comparison to what we have endured thus far. Therefore, I must set my plan in motion. Once the necessary materials arrive, I will converse with Roswaal about my intentions. I require a force capable of standing against everything and everyone, without diminishing my own power.
If I wish for Emilia to rule successfully, these accomplishments must genuinely be hers. I cannot simply hire someone; I must build my own strength.
As I approach Ram, she addresses me with a displeased expression on her face.
"You wear quite a disagreeable expression," Ram remarks, her mild irritation evident in her words. "Additionally, why are you dressed in such a manner?"
"I have no inclination to attire myself as a servant today, regardless of the circumstances," I tell Ram as I turn my head to the side. She understands that there are more pressing matters at hand.
"Let us proceed," she responds.