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Published at 28th of May 2018 09:43:51 PM


Chapter 5

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Destroyer of the Forest

 

1

Elkada started out as a fort to protect the national border, but ever since diplomatic relations normalized with the neighboring country they were in a state of cold war with, the town achieved rapid development as a hub of trade.
The city gates there had only been two of naught ten years ago now numbered five. There were already plans to add more. Merchants, craftsmen, adventurers, even the mafia, various sorts would pass through the gates. This town halfway down the road of development swallowed down the dreams and desires of many a man to grow further.
The main road that continued on from the Grand Karr Mustanghus Gate- The oldest structure in town- was once again enveloped in the vigor of the morning market. As if escaping from that hustle and bustle, if you tread foot down one of the back alleys, you’ll find a small sign that reads, ‘The House of the Twin Firebreathing Dragons’.
Despite it being morning, the store’s interior was dark, as if to threaten the town boys who wished to prove themselves, ‘Do you have the courage to go in?’. In a corner of the dark store interior, before the bulletin board illuminated by a lamp, stood two men. The first, a man in an indigo-dyed mantle started fixedly at a single sheet of paper with a sharp glare.
[Search Request—Reward: 200,000 Gelt]
The board listed out various requests for those with time on their hands, but among them, it was a conspicuously large sum.

“You doin’ it, that request?”

Making her way over with a series of thuds and the grating of floorboards, the large-built female proprietress of the establishment called over in a menacing, hoarse voice.

“If you’re doin’ it, you’d best prepare for a fool’s errand. Lookin’ for some missing brat in that stupidly vast Clamberra forest? I’d say he’s become beast food ages ago.”

Still with his sharp glare, the mantled man slowly turned his face towards the mistress.

“If you’re asking if we’re gonna do it, the answer is hell no.”

Ringing his nose a, ‘Hmph’, he purposely carried on in a loud voice.

“We’re hunters we are. Not odd jobs. Got no interest in missing person searches.”

That moment, the men in the store with their swords and axes focused on the mantled man at once. Odd jobs was a scornful, sarcastic term to refer to the adventurers who would do anything as long as there was money to be had.
The mantled mand faltered not under the concentrated fire of eyes, returning the glare of the longsword user with the eyepatch sitting closest to him.

“What’s that? You got somethin’ to say?”
The eyepatched man made an awkward face as if to say, “Why just me?” and swiftly removed his gaze. In nervous voice, “M-madam… I’m leaving the money here,” he said, leaving behind some change and a meal half-finished before fleeing. The others narrowed their shoulders like scolded children and hung their heads.
It seemed they all knew how dangerous this mantled man truly was.

“Keh. Cowards the lot of them.”
“Hey, lay it off, Carnac. They’re all here to spend a relaxing morning… sorry about that.”

The other man beside the mantle, an archer with a large scar down his cheek, sent a sociable laugh to the troublesomely wincing clientele; He placed an order for a ‘Whatever bean soup’ from the proprietress.

“What about you?” He urged on the other.
“I only eat bacon and eggs in the morning,” the mantled man unpleasantly answered.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just thought I’d asked—then, that’s all we need.”
“… Your drinks?”

Said the proprietress, whose lack of sociability didn’t lose to the mantled man’s. The man with the scarred cheek took a glance at his partner’s face. His brow furrowed, he looked the other way as if it was someone else’s problem at this point.
With a wry smile on his face, the scarred man stuck up two fingers.

“Two waters.”

With a rough sound from her nose, the proprietress jerked her chin towards an empty seat, thud, thud, creak, creak, she left for the kitchen. The mantled man clicked his tongue, and with the scarred man soothing him, the two took their seats.
A half-eaten bowl remained at the table the eyepatched man had been sitting. Whatever bean soup. While it was called whatever goes, it was simply made by boiling whatever beans were the cheapest to buy of the season. It was listed out on the very bottom of the shop’s menu, the cheapest dish they had. By the way, the second cheapest dish was bacon and eggs.
The scarred man leaked a single sigh, striking up conversation with his companion sitting across from him.

“Hey, Carnac. I, see, I think a missing person search isn’t bad—once in a while. ”

Holding out his palm to reign in his comrade who had leaned his body forward as a show of anger, he continued on.

“But that place is no good. I hear the ‘Destroyer of the Forest’ was sighted around Clambera forest. That poacher who went to capture the mirror-shelled tortoise ran into it, apparently.”
“Seriously?” The mantled man opened his eyes in surprise. “Even more reason not to go.”

As he hung all his weight into its backrest, the rough-made chair raised a shriek.
“… But you know, Carnac,” looking at the menu hung on the wall, the cheek-scarred man spoke. “You might be fine with bacon and eggs every day, but once in a while… I’d like to eat something higher up on the menu.”

 

[IMAGE]

 

 

 

2

Roselyne first used her vines to hoist Cleo up, carrying him over to the opposite shore. The river was around twenty meters across, and while its flow was gentle, the middle portion looked to boast a considerable depth. Entrusting his body to her vine, Cleo watched the masses of water flow under his feet, a light chill running down his spine. He couldn’t swim.
After that, Roselyne suspended her own body in the air with seven or eight vines, traversing the river like a spider.
On his arrival, Cleo let out a sigh of admiration.

“… Beautiful…”

It seemed he had no other words. Cleo found he was only able to nod. A transparent, yet be that as it may, a vivid blue bathed in the morning light, glimmering like the finest gemstone. He could see why some called it the blooming sapphire.
Um from the riverbed, running along the river around ten meters away from it, blue roses that reached up to Cleo’s chest bloomed in profusion.
When he swallowed a breath, the rich fragrance pierced through his nasal cavities. The back of his head went numb, he felt he might unintentionally doze off. Hurriedly shaking his head, he slapped sense into his cheeks.
(Why? This isn’t anywhere near the stone the compass is reacting to.)
They had gone off route to circumvent the cliff. There was no way this was the goal. Producing the charmed compass from his chest pocket, he tried checking it. He walked the plot of blue rosses from end to end, but the needle still pointed forward. This really wasn’t his original destination after all.
(Well, it’s not like blue roses are restricted to growing in one place. Just means we happened to be in luck.)
The forest was so vast. It was no peculiarity to find a single variant of vegetation growing in multiple locations. Whoever buried the guide stone that formed a pair with Cleo’s compass knew of one of those sites, and that wasn’t here. That’s all it meant.
(I kinda get the feeling I’ve been cheated, but… well, whatever works.)
With this picturesque view before his eyes, it all seemed so inconsequential.
Given some time, Roselyne’s mouth started to motion. In her excitement, it was gradually accelerating.

“Amazing… I’ve never seen such beautiful flowers before… hey, it’s amazing, right? Hey, can we make the roses at my place blue, hey?”

Hey, het, she said as she grabbed Cleo’s shoulders and violently shook them.

“Whoa… Hol, hold it… that’s… impossible.”

The hands shaking him came to a sudden stop, Roselyne looked up at Cleo with upturned eyes.

“… It’s no good? No matter what..?”

It was a lonely look like that of a puppy waiting for someone to take it home. Regardless of her status as a magic beast, it was the first time a girl made such a face to him, and Cleo’s naïve boy’s heart was tempestuously flustered.

“That’s… ummm… nothing we can do about it. Whenever you want to see blue roses, just come here again–”
“I don’t want that! I want to see them right when I want to see them!”

Roselyne’s hung head emphatically rose in her cry. For a moment, Cleo had lost his words.

“…… Hey, I get where you’re”
“No, no, no. I want a blue rose. I want one at home. I want itttttt!”

A great many vines burst from the hem of her raincoat. When she stamped her feet, they matched her motions to rise up high, and slam into the ground like whips. The screams of torn air and thrashed earth mingled in as the targeted ground grew visibly caved in.

“Hey, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, do something about this!”

Roselyne started shaking Cleo again. She shook him more than a carriage on bad road. Just a little more, and his nosebleed would spout and he’d swoon.
At that time, something suddenly crossed his head.
The sort of flash like the single coin that falls when you turn over an empty wallet and shake it up and down.
(……?)
A single revived scene in his memory. That smile he could clearly recall even now belonged to Joseph’s laugh. Nearby, a rose blooming in two colors, yellow and orange. That recalled vision ended in a single short instant, but he had definitely said this.

‘Using that method, you can get two colors of rose from a single stem.’

 

“… Ah… Ahh…!”

His hollow eyes gazing at the past, Cleo found himself crying out. A surprised Roselyne stopped er hands shaking him.

“Huh? What? What’s wrong?”

Cleo muttered as if talking to himself.

“… We might, be able to do it.”
“Do it… you can make the roses blue?”

Stars twinkling in her eyes, Roselyne started shaking Cleo’s shoulders again. Had he still been talking, he’d likely have bit his tongue. Making a ‘wait’ gesture w ith both hands, he patiently waited until the shaking died down.

“So which is it? Hey? You can do it, can’t you?”
“… Making a red rose blue is, as I said, impossible.”

Sensing the shaking might recommence, he signaled to wait again.

“But it might be possible to grow this blue rose from a red rose’s stem.”
“The stem… is what? What do you mean?”
“This portion. You stick the blur rose on this portion of the red rose.”

When he pointed out the stem, Roselyne’s cheeks flushed red.

“You can do that? Something like that is…”

Feeling pressure from the girl’s heated gaze, Cleo nodded.

“We might be able to graft it.”

 

 

 

3

Grafting- by joining two or more pieces of vegetation at a man-made bisection, a technique to affix them as a single individual. Cleo frantically grappled with his memory to explain it to Roselyne.
In the Grant House courtyard, there was a rose the bloomed in two colors. Joseph had grafted it while he was still alive. Cleo had quite liked that yellow and orange combination, having painted it numerous times. Beside him, “What sort of colors do you want next?” Joseph happily inquired. Even now he could remember that jovial grin, and the light that caught on his pure-white teeth.
At the time, he had received an explanation on grafting.

“Meaning, you cut this blue rose’s stem, and stick it onto the red roses at your place. But I can’t say it’ll succeed every time. More so, the probability of failure is higher”

The chance was only lowered by the fact Cleo only received a simplified explanation. What’s more, it was a tale of years ago. Perhaps t here were some hazy parts of his memory. And the largest problem was that Cleo was an amateur at horticulture. The prospects of success were slim.
Yet despite that preface riddled with excuses, her expectations weren’t swayed in the slightest. She grew excited, her nose holes expanded as she raised a high-pitched voice.

“But it might succeed, right? Then try it! Please do!”

Closing in, she gripped Cleo’s hand. Whether she knew what a handshake was or not remained uncertain. In her hands, she put a power strong enough to reveal the depths of her expectations.
In Cleo’s chest lay the embarrassment of having his hands held, but far exceeding that came the feeling of regret.
Excess expectations were only troublesome. That’s why he said the probability of failure was higher. That line had evidently failed to reach her, and in Roselyne’s eyes at that very moment, a subjective impression, ‘There’s surely no doubt it will work out!’ was vividly revealed.
If he betrayed that, if he failed, what would happen? Her high expectations would change to great disappointment, and perhaps eventually to a furious rage. No, it was amply possible.
(What that happens… I’m not getting off unscathed.)

His body quivered.

“Hey, then we just have to cut it? Leave the heavy lifting to me.”

Unable to wait any longer, Roselyne snatched a roses’s stem in her vines, about to pull it out. Cleo hurriedly cut in.

“Ah, wait a second. You have to choose one with a good bud… also, it’s better if the cross section is as clean as…”

Cross section?

“Ah…”

Just a little more, and Cleo would have cried out.
His head had been filled with thoughts of what would happen if he failed. Before that came into question, he noticed there was an even bigger problem he should have been worrying about.
Grafting was only possible with sticking two clean gross sections together. Forcefully plucking them was out of the question. Meaning, a blade was necessary.
The only blade Cleo had was the adamantite sword, the sword Roseline said she “loathed”.
(Crap, w… what do I do…?)
He felt his blood recede. His complexion was the same as the splendidly blossoming blue rose petals before him. He timidly directed his eyes at the girl.
Roselyne looked back perplexed.

“What’s wrong? Today, your face is going blue. You can turn both red and blue, I see.”

Along with his vertigo, the sweat pooled up at his hairline flowed down his forehead. Cleo hurriedly wiped it with a finger so as not to be noticed.

“Oh… i-is that so? No… I wonder what, hahaha…”
“So you don’t know yourself? How peculiar. So what do we do? What should I do?”

The girl innocently inquired.
What to do? Should he keep the sword hidden, and claim it was impossible after all with no tool to cut it? But that wouldn’t be able to stave off Roselyne’s anger. Then don’t get my hopes up! She might say.
In that case, should he let Roselyne pluck it, and try sticking together two tattered cross sections? The grafting would undoubtedly fail, but at the very least, he’d be able to overcome this situation. And perhaps she could accept the fact they did what they could, and it just didn’t work out.
(When the time comes, no matter how disappointed she is, I’ll just have to act like I never saw it coming either…)
Am I capable of it? No, I have no other choice.
Swiftly shifting his eyes, he chose out a few limbs with buds, boldly informing the young girl awaiting an answer.

“Umm… then, that one, that one, that one… and that one, please pluck them. I’m counting on you.”
“This one and that one and… umm, this one?”

Roselyne’s eyes frantically chased after Cleo’s fingertip.

“This one… and also this one. Yeah, got it!”

With a vibrant reply, she reached out two vines, skillfully entwining around the space between thorn and thorn.
(This is for the best. This is…)
Cleo quietly gazed over her. But.
(Is this… is this really… what’s right?)
He had a lingering sentiment he couldn’t wipe out.
Roselyne had come here from her ‘place’ enchanted by the beautiful morning sun. Now, her heart had been stolen by the beautiful blue of the roses, and she prayed to see it every day. It seemed her nature preferred the pretty, the beautiful over everything. It was something a magic beast like her, and Cleo could reach mutual understanding on, one of their few points of commonality.
Was it alright to betray that?
What’s more, Cleo and Roselyne were together almost twenty-four hours a day. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before she spotted the adamantite sword hidden in his rucksack.
(In that case, yes, if that’s how it’s going to be…!)

Roselyne raised a cry, “Ready, set,”
At that moment, Cleo cried out.
“Wait… please wait!”
“Huh? W-what?”

She came to a complete stop, turning her face towards Cleo, who had suddenly raised his voice.

 

 

 

4

Cleo was no good with his father, but this was a little different from ‘hate’. To Cleo, his father was simply so terrifying, he couldn’t even direct enough hostility to label as hate.
Each time he caught sight of the wrinkle on his brow- one he had to wonder if it even disappeared when he slept- he felt as if he was being constricted by the heavy chains around his heart.
Even without the whip, simply feeling those displeased eyes on him around the clock was an unbearable torture. That’s why, before his father, Cleo constantly kept as meek as a slave. He lowered his head, waiting motionlessly for his father to finish his words, if not but a single second sooner. The only phrases necessary for a conversation between father and son were, “Yes, understood,” and “I’m sorry”—the two would suffice.
The current Cleo could feel that same pain from times passed.
Bound in chains, his heavy heart increased its pressure on his stomach and lungs. Painful whether he inhaled or exhaled. He felt he might return the fruit he had just eaten.
But now, he couldn’t overcome by becoming an obedient slave. Roselyne’s eyes were wide open, she waited for his word. Unless Cleo opened his mouth, this dull flow of time, like swimming through mud, would never move forward.

“… What is it? What’s wrong this time?”

As Cleo continued to hold his tongue, Roselyne’s eyes took on a dubious- somewhat displeased- hue. There was no time left for hesitation. In his parched, thirsting throat, he summoned up a cracked voice like the croak of a frog.

“You said before… that you hate swords, didn’t you?”
“…… Yes?”

From Roselyne’s point of view, the question was right out of left field. With a flabbergasted face, she lost her words for a while, until eventually, still confused, “… I did say that. I hate swords. What about it?”

She gaed at Cleo to probe out the meaning of the sudden question.
Enduring her gaze more piercing than a needle, Cleo slowly lowered his rucksack, and opened its mouth.

“I’m sorry, the truth is… I have one.”

To display his lack of ill intent, he presented her the adamantite sword, hilt first.

“Ah…!”

Roselyne cried out.

“That’s a s-sword, isn’t it…!! You had one? W-why? Wht did you never tell me? Could it be… you were hiding it? You were tricking me the whole time?”

As she said once before, the moment she saw the sword, her eyes displayed anger, slanting downwards all at once.

“So which is it?”

Her right left hit the ground. Along with an intense thud, came a tremor. It seemed the great earth was cowering from her rage as well. While the ground’s tremors were soon contained, Cleo’s trembles didn’t look like they were ever going to stop.

“… Th… that’s…”
“What? Say it clearly!”

Another thud. Cleo fell to a sit, his knees giving way.

“That’s, you know…… you said you hated even looking at them, so…”
“I did? Yes, I did. And so what? Are you saying it’s my fault?”
“N-no, that’s not what I meant…!”
“Then what is it? If you’re saying it’s not my fault, then it’s got to be your fault!”
“Eeh…?” Cleo was flustered by that forceful logic. “No… it’s not about whose fault it is…”
“You’re saying neither’s to blame? Then why do I have to feel so irritated? Who are you saying did this to me!?”
“Th… that…… I mean…”

While Cleo was hard-pressed to respond, an impatient Roselyne lost her temper and hammered out these words.

“… That’s enough, I don’t want to hear it! I don’t know you anymore!”

Changing her direction, Roselyne descended to the river side. Extending the vines from her back, just as she did when she came, she made for the opposite shore. Cleo put some force into his clattering knees, Frantically leaping into the river to chase after her.

“W-wait, Roselyne…!”
“Don’t follow me!”

To brush off the pursuer, her vine whip grazed the tip of Cle’s nose. A hot impact raced through him. Cleo raised the scream of a small animal, staggering backward; his feet were caught up in the flow, causing him to fall with his backside in the shallows. The water came up all the way to the base of his chest.

“Ah…”

Roselyne muttered as she turned a round.

Cleo’s nose bridge oozed with red blood. For an instant, Roselyne made the face of one assailed by a sense of guilt but, “I… I told you not to follow, didn’t I!”
And without turning again, she crossed the river and left. A soaked Cleo remained seated in the water—with nowhere else to go.

 

 

 

5

Having crossed the river, Roselyne proceeded down the path she trampled down to make in the opposite direction.
Silent as a gravestone, slow as an ox.
With a sudden stop, she stealthily crept her vines into the shade of the nearby shrubbery. She had sensed a presence. She grasped it without first learning what it was. In the clasp of the vine she pulled out, a fifteen-odd centimeter baron frog was bound. Roselyne drew it right before her face.

“Hey, I’m called Roselyne. What sort of name do you have?”

Flapping its feet in the air, the suspended baron frog croaked out.

“Ribbit? Your name is Ribbit?”

The baron frog croaked a second time.

“Then Ribbit it is. Hey, Ribbit, do you know about painti–”

Ribbit.

“… I was still in the middle of talking. Hey, Rib—”

Ribbit, Ribbit.

Roselyne furrowed her brow and glared, but the baron frog continued to cry out, ribbit, ribbit. Its front legs, its back legs scraped against the air, the fine shook idly to and fro.

“…… That’s enough. I don’t need you.”

Roselyne tossed the frog aside. The released baron frog croaked, ribbit, and with one bound disappeared into the thicket.

“……”

Roselyne turned back to the path she’d been walking down, she quietly muttered.

“Hey… can I ask?”

A while later, a voice came in her head.

‘Are you talking to me?’
“… Is there anyone else?”
‘You’re right. It’s been about a week since you last talked to me. So what is it?’

Roselyne looked behind as she asked.

“Did you… notice that Cleo had a sword on him?”

Insteen replied.

‘Well let’s see. I did find it hard to imagine that a person entered this forest with no weapons at all.’
“Huh…! Y-you’re supposed to tell me that sort of thing! So even you’re hiding things from me?”

Roselyne raised her voice. After a short while, Insteen spoke up.

‘I did think he just might have something. It was just an intuition. If I said that and was wrong, you’d laugh at me again, wouldn’t you?’
“… What’s with that. You’re still mad about that?”
‘Not particularilyyy. That’s not it at all.’ She said with a shameless tone, but soon returning to her emotionless voice, Insteen continued on. ‘It’s because even if he did have a sword, I judged that human presented no significant danger. IF he was a danger to you, then no matter how you mocked or laughed at me, I’d have definitely warned you. By the way, may I ask something?’
“… What is it?”
‘Why didn’t you eat that human? You’re already sick of him, right? You should have just devoured him.’
“Eh? T-that’s…”

Roselyne’s mouth was awkwardly tied up. Why? Insteen urged her for an answer once more.

“That’s… I mean, Cleo doesn’t look like he’d be tasty at all. What does it matter? Any complaints?”

Roselyne bluffed as if she was trying to deceive someone.
Insteen’s voice came out, as inorganic as ever. ‘I have no complaints. We’re not in a season where food stock is scarce. But even so, I thought it was a waste. I’m sure he’s become foot to another beast by now.’
“Huh……”
‘Look at the tree on the right. You can see how the surface is scraped down, right?’

When she took a look as instructed, a portion of bark on a single tree had been relentlessly shaved a way. It was as if some sharp, pointed something had scratched against it again and again.

‘That’s a marking left behind by the beast that claims here as its turf. It’s up around twice your height, so it’s likely a considerably large one.’ Roselyne’s face froze up. ‘Perhaps it noticed us long ago, and was carefully watching from a distance the whole time. And the troublesome foe has left, leaving only a single weak human behind. What do you think would happen?’
“Yo… you’re just making things up!”
‘Yes, I am. But there is something certain. That human doesn’t have the ability to survive this forest on his own. Unless he reaches the outside while luck still allies with him, he’ll definitely lose his life.’

Roselyne’s lip had begun to tremble.

“He’ll lose his life… what do you mean?”
‘Did I never teach you before? It means he’ll die.’

A sudden gust blew through. The restful rustling of leaves raced through Roselyne’s head.
Death.
It was something Roselyne knew well. To die meant for the limbs to go limp, to leak excrement, for the eyes and mouth to stop moving. And gradually, like a rock, to go hard and cold.
It meant to become nothing more than a bundle of meat.
Roselyne turned around, taking off like a fired arrow. She hurriedly retraced the path she had come d own. The wreckage of once-thickets strewn around the ground let off a crunch as they were trampled down again, the fallen and rotten trees surmounted in one leap.
Insteen asked indifferently, ‘Why are you returning? Didn’t you say you no longer cared about that human? Isn’t that why you left him?’
“Why? How should I know!?”

Gasping out a chaotic breath, Roselyne screamed.

“But I have to go back… I have to go back, someone in my head’s telling me! Insteen, isn’t it you?”

Rustle.
Crack.
Swish.

Roselyne came out before a large cliff. If she descended along it, the banks with the blue flower would be right before her.

‘It’s not me. I’m sure that’s your true heart, in which case, you must hurry. If you don’t make it in time, you’ll come to regret it.’

With her momentum, Roselyne was unable to make a sudden turn, her curve just barely making the edge. Even so, her speed didn’t drop in the slightest. The pounding of the ground crumbled the edge of the cliff, the rubble swallowed into the depths of the ravine.

“Regret… hey… what does that mean?”

Roselyne weaved the question into the gap between rough breath. Insteen answered. ‘It means to be tormented by memory. A large trgret is able to keep tormenting you to the day you die.’
“I don’t want that!”

With a howl, Roselyne borrowed the speed of her descent, accelerating to the very limit.

 

 

6

Cleo crouched by the riverside. It was as if he had seen a bad dream. There was no sense of reality to the world before his eyes. His entire body felt sluggish, as if he had a fever, and he could no longer stand.
He hung his head, burying it in the knees he held tight.
At present, Cleo was one step before tears. That demonic look on Roselyne’s face- while it wasn’t on the level of his father’s0 truly was terrifying, and the trousers clinging onto his sopping wet thighs woke up memories of how he wet himself when he was young, flaring up his displeasure.
But that wasn’t why. It wasn’t like such a thing would make him want to cry.
He had no choice but to use the sword if he wanted to graft. And Roselyne would undoubtedly want to watch the work. If he wanted to grant Roselyne’s wish, it was inevitable that the sword’s existence came to light.
Even so, Cleo couldn’t grant her wish.
For that sake, he had wrung out his courage, “I have a sword,” he offered her his sincerity. But the result was this.
In the end, the world is made to make a fool of the honest. This was what saddened him.
For a while he unsteadily teetered along the edge of the hill called despair; but, before long, the rivers flow became a nuisance to his ears, causing him to raise his face.
(What do I do now…)
Even at a time like this, it seemed he didn’t want to die. Now that he had lost Roselyne’s patronage, death was right before him. If he wanted to be saved, he would need to start moving as soon as possible.
(Do I walk along the river…?)
There was no guarantee the river would lead out of the forest. But as long as he followed it, he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his way, or going around in circles. What’s more, he would at least have a constant supply of drinkable water. It wasn’t a bad deal, he thought.
(Yeah… alright, let’s go with that.)
Informing his feet of his resolve, he forcefully stood. As he retrieved the adamantite sword littered on the ground, the thought struck him.
(That’s right, I’m here anyways, I should take back a few blue roses with me.)
He had been abandoned by his father, but he had at least reached the place the blue roses bloomed. He had managed to accomplish half of the ‘Blue Rose Trial’. He wanted the proof.
It went without saying, he had no intent to succeed the house. If he managed to get out of the forest alive, he would offer the roses to Joseph’s grave. As long as he had some motivating factor, it would greatly increase his chances of returning alive. That was the feeling he got.
Choosing out three good-looking limbs, he harvested them with the adamantite sword. Once he inserted them into his canteen, the work was done.
(Then let’s depart.)
Stringing the rucksack over his back, he started off downstream.
Crackle, roll. His feet treading over the riverbed stones came to a stop a few steps down the line.
Cleo turned and sent a fixed glance to the opposite thicket Roselyne had disappeared down.
In his heart, sixty… fifty nine… fifty eight… he counted down. As if to interrupt his count, badum, badum, his heart pounded out.
Eventually, four… three… two… one……
Perhaps she’ll come back… one minute of such faint hopes.
Cleo’s eyes lonesomely clouded over. His lightly shook his head and spoke.

“Farewell… Roselyne.”

Turning on his heal, he directed his feet downstream again.
And then a mere few steps later. A sound as if a cannon shell had made impact with the water’s surface raised behind him, as drops of water were sprinkled onto the collar of his shirt. Cleo vigorously turned.
I knew it! She did come—

The scene projected on his eyes differed from the one his heart longed for.
A large beast stood in the middle of the stream.
A bear.
No ordinary bear. It was large. Perhaps it stood higher than three meters. More than anything, it boasted four fore-limbs. The six-legged fire bear, also known as the ‘Destroyer of the Forest’.
One of the most dangerous varieties of magical beasts that even a highly-skilled swordsman would run away from.
That magic beast was slowly, certainly, making its way towards him.In the space Cleo’s was frozen in shock, the large build had hoisted itself out of the water, finally lifting its heavy-looking soaked feet up to trample the shore.
A tumble. A crackle. The gravel rung out.
Cleo slowly stepped back, so as not to instigate his foe. As things stood the distance between them was fifteen, perhaps sixteen meters. The six legged fire bear stared fixatedly at him, slowly… slowly… it approached on its two hind legs. To and fro, its upper body swayed ominously.
Cleo took another, larger step back, but in accordance with it, the fire bear’s pace quickened as well. Only ten meters to go. Cleo’s rationality had finally exceeded its limit.

“……!”

Turning his back straight towards the terrifying magic beast, he sprinted off. Right after, the sound of the six-legged fire bear’s steps changed.
Boomthudthud, boomthudthud, boomthudthud!
Cleo instinctually understood. It was using all six of its legs to run. The footsteps had grown larger in the blink of an eye, through the sounds, and the shaking of the ground, he perceived that his foe had reached right behind him.
In the next instant, Cleo raised a scream. It wasn’t as if raising one would result in anything, but such rational judgments were far beyond him. Regardless of what was going through his head, his mouth went and scream out on its own.

“WwaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

A thunderous roar rended the river surface.
Smack dap in the center of the flow, a pillar of water had risen, the tempestuous spray of water scattering in all directions with fearsome momentum. As if they had leapt right into the eye of a storm. Cleo involuntarily closed his eyes.
Something wrapped around his body.
A floating sensation came, as if he had been thrown through the air, as if he was falling head-first over a cliff.
It all happened in an instant.

 

… Thump.
By the time he noticed it, Cleo touched down on the ground. The bear monster—the six-legged fire bear- had, in some time unbeknownst to him, moved to the opposite shore. No, that was wrong. He understood he was the one who had crossed the river.
The thing coiling around his body writhed and came loose. Roselyne’s vine. She stood above the river’s flow, where the pillar of water had risen a moment before. The drops fell ceaselessly from her moist verdant hair. From her raincoat as well. Vines grew from its hem to suspend her body in the air.
Roselyne stole a glance his way, before immediately, awkwardly averting her eyes.

“… Are you alright? Any injuries?”

She said. Cleo’s chest heated up. His welling joy became a voice that leapt from his mouth.

“… Y… yes! I’m fine!”

Roselyne turned to Cleo’s face one more time.

“I see, that’s good.”

She gave just a little smile of relief.

 

 

 

7

Meaning it happened like this. Running headlong down the cliff, Roselyne witnessed the moment of desperation unfolding on the river bank below her.
A fleeing Cleo, a chasing beast.
If she continued her descent and crossed the river, she would never make it in time. And if she didn’t make it, Insteen told her she would be tormented to death. Her resolve was made.

‘You’re jumping?’
“I’m jumping!”

The cliff was around twenty meters high.
One… hup! And Roselyne was sprawling flying through the air.

 

“Umm… thank you…”

As Roselyne rose to the bank, Cleo sent a timid voice to probe out her reaction. When their two gazes touched, it was Roselyne who moved first to awkwardly avert her eyes.

“N… not really, it’s not what you think!”
“…… Pardon?”

There was no doubt it was Roselyne who saved him. And yet, which part of it wasn’t what he was imagining? Cleo’s eyes widened in confusion, but he had not the time to obtain an answer

“That doesn’t matter, just get back. It’s coming!”

She warned him in a pointed voice. By his blank glance, the bear had gotten down on all sixes, slowly backing up. He immediately realized it wasn’t to run. It was securing distance to make the jump
And the six-legged fire bear took off in a mad charge. With six appendages accelerating its body forward, it soon reached its maximum velocity, taking a leap through the air like a massive shell. Drawing a parabola close to level, it made a flashy water landing right next to their shore. Almost like a declaration of war, an intense spray of water assailed the two.
Cleo frantically hid behind Roselyne. Even with drops of water shooting into her eyes, Roselyne didn’t blink once. With a level-headed look unimaginable from her usual self, she motionlessly observed her enemy. Extending around ten extra vines from her hem, she began to sway like a snake the moment before it leapt at its prey.
The six-legged fire bear rose to land, it didn’t seem it was going to attack immediately.
It was wary of Roselyne after all.

“It’s got six legs, but that’s a bear, right? If it’s a bear, I’ve beaten them before.” Roselyne said, “… But they’re quite a hassle to fight head-on. See, a bear’s got strength, and they’re a tenacious lot. If it doesn’t attack, how about we just leave. Okay, Cleo?”
“No complaints there…”

Observing their enemy’s behavior, the two of them indicated their intent to back down.
The six-legged fire bear’s angered roar reverberated. As if to show off its build over three meters high, it stood on its hind legs, raising tremors in the earth as it approached. When it came to Cleo, from the moment he heard the bear’s bellow, as if he had been dazed, he could no longer move a single step. His face winced in fear.
But Roselyne laughed.
Ukukukukuh.
Like a seed’s first sprout, her vine showed their faces at the fire bear’s feet. Concealing it behind her bottom structure, she had wormed it underground, dug it forward, and waited for the fire bear to come. The fine forcefully entwined around its right leg. As the bear’s balance crumbled, she caught its left leg as well. With both of its legs sealed off, it staggered like an infant who still had a long way to go before walking, toppling forward face-first. The ground shook.
Roselyne didn’t give it the time to rise, countless vines raced one another for first picking, tying up each of the six-legged fire bear’s legs. In no time, it was left in a state where all it could move was its head.

“Good. It worked the same as last time.”

Seeing the fire bear desperately writhe with every leg bound, Roselyne narrowed her eyes in satisfaction. From behind her, Cleo warily peeked out.

“Roselyne, you already laid draps? I never noticed.”
“Pretty much. I didn’t think it was going to quietly turn back, so I tried out the method I used to defeat a bear last time. Four legs or six legs, a bear’s a bear.”

Roselyne pulled her fines in. With his hands tied- literally- the six-legged fire bear that could no longer raise arm or leg was dragged in like a fish caught in a net.

“All that’s left is to finish it off. How does your meat taste? I can’t wait.”

Roselyne licked the area around her mouth with her dark-red tongue. She raised her right-hand high. From the mouth of her slightly-raised raincoat, a large number of vines gushed out. Their numbers were roughly around thirty. Those vines wove together like muscle fibers, in no time at all forming a large whip easily five centimeters in diameter. Even one vine was able to lift Cleo’s body with ease. By winding them together, she lost some precision in their movement, but the destructive power she obtained in exchange was immeasurable.

 

Of its six bound limbs, the six-legged fire bear desperately mustered every ounce of power in its body, writhing, rampaging to free one, at the very least. Such resistance was futile, it was dragged at the girl’s mercy.
The beast was currently in a crisis; It had no choice but to make the call. What is a crisis? A crisis means death.
The six-legged fire bear’s instincts cried out.

—You must escape from death!
—You must make a sacrifice of it all but you!

And the magic beast opened its large jaw wide.

 

 

 

8

Elkada village once more. The House of the Twin Firebreathing Dragons
After a meager breakfast, sipping bit by bit at the water remaining in the cup,
… Hah. The archer with the scar on his cheek leaked a dreary sigh.
Across the table was his indigo-mantled compadre. His cup had gone empty long ago. Placing his feet up beside it, He swayed the chair he leaned back in diagonally as he spoke.

“Hey, pass one over.”

He wanted an after-meal smoke, it seemed. The scarred man irritantly placed his cup down and said,

“When your tobacco runs low, you buy and ready some. Otherwise, you get boxes in bulk and keep a stock—wait, how many times are you going to make me say it? You’ve got to stop counting on me.”

But like water off a duck’s back, his partner calmly rocked his chair.

“Got it, got it, I’ll buy some later, just give me some now,”
he presented out an arrogant palm.
Hahh.
After a long sigh, the scarred man scratched his head up and offered a word.

“—Out.”
“… Huh?”
“I’m out. Smoked the last one after dinner, day before last.”
“The last one…” The mantled man lifted his feet off the table, with just a bit of a surprised face, he looked at the man across from him.

“You’re that broke?”

The man with the scarred cheek gulped down the meager remnants of water in his cup with one swig.

“—Out. You’re not much better. Perhaps you thought you’d sponge on me if times really ran thin, but let me be clear. It’s not happening.”
“……” The mantled man lost his words, his body leaned forward, he stiffened like a statue. Eventually, he clicked his tongue, settling sullenly into his seat. The ragged chair let out a grating, ear retching din.
A detestable silence carried on.
“Hey…” A while later, the one to open his mouth first was the mantled man.
“What is it.”
“Why don’t we hunt the destroyer of the forest?”
“Wha…!” The scarred man said, his eyes opened wide his shock. After opening and closing his mouth, his words finally came out. “Hey, hey, hey. Hunt it? It’s the forest destroyer we’re talking about here. You get what you’re saying?”
“Yeah. I hear you can sell its pelt for an absurd amount. Its claws, it’s fangs too—didn’t you know? That thing’s balls are the base of a medicine for longevity. Those rich folks with one foot in the grave; the colors of their eyes will change when they learn what we’ve got. And then, it’ll be ‘goodbye poverty,’ and ‘goodbye seedy bars’. Not a bad story, right?”
“Hey!”

Banging against the table, the scarred man raised a rough voice. The customers at the others tables winced their bodies smaller.

“That’s not it, that’s not what I’m talking about!”
“Then what is it? It’s rare for you to pick and choose with your work, Doggrun.”

Drawing near on the talks of money, the proprietress used cleaning up plates as an excuse to intrude on the conversation.

“If it’s a get-rich-quick deal, then why not go for it? If all’s well, then I won’t have to look at this cheapskate who only eats bacon and eggs anymore, we’re all winners. Or don’t tell me–” She lowered her voice, “Is it poaching?”

Blatantly displeased that a hindrance had entered the conversation, the mantled man placed his feet back on the table with a bang, vomiting out words in lieu of spit.

“We ain’t poachers. Even the law won’t touch the destroyer of the forest.”
“Hah,” the proprietress rung her nose. “Then what’s there to lose? No problem at all. That destroyer of the forest’s got quite the dangerous name, but is it really that formidable?”
“No, you’ve got it wrong,” the scarred-cheek man shook his head a few times.
“Formidable or not, that’s not the problem. No matter how confident you are in your skills, if you run into the destroyer of the forest, you flee for the hills, no second thoughts. That’s the unspoken rule. ‘Don’t bloody touch it’ they say!”

Bang, he hit against the table again. His final line was practically a shout.
The proprietress opened her eyes and shut her mouth. Seeing that, the scarred man returned to his senses, awkwardly lowering the ton of his voice.

“No… I-I mean to say… the reason being that the destroyer of the forest… more precisely, the six-legged fire bear, by the way… whenever it feels it’s in a pinch, well, it breathes fire.”

A deep crease dug into the proprietress’ brow.

“Fire… wait, that’s it? To you lot, magic beasts that breathe fire should be a dime a dozen, right?”
“—it converts the entire area into a sea of fire.”

In places of his partner crudely scratching his head, the mantled man answered.

“Now listen well, even dragons, you know, when they breathe fire, they do it with a bit of tact. The hell’s it going to do if it burns down its own nest? Of course, the same goes for a fire magic user like myself. The six-legged fire bear is different. Without giving a damn to where it is, it breathes fire again and again, I’d even say it purposely makes a sea of flames so it can slip in with the fire and make its escape. And just like that, it wanders from forest to forest. That’s why the bloody thing has no natural enemies. If anyone touches it, the forest goes up in smokes. I’m sure it, and the other creatures know this by instinct, so it stands unchallenged. Quite a nasty beast, ain’t it?”

The mantled man laughed a Kuku, slouching back into his seat. The chair let out a shriek.
“Hah, I guess there are people like that too,” The proprietress shrugged after a few blinks of her eyelids. “But that’s a real piece of work. What a scoundrel.”
“… Right? That’s why.”

Having regained his cool, the man with a scarred cheek finally opened his mouth.

“Everyone’s taught when they’re still green. If you meet the destroyer of the forest, you don’t fight it. Run away to the best of your abilities. Before that thing opens its mouth.”

 

And the stage returns to Clambera forest.

 

She dragged the six-legged fire bear in, just a little closer, and Roselyne thought she would hit it with a blow with as much power as she could muster. She twisted her body, her large vine whip ready and waiting.
But a scream-like voice suddenly resounded in her head, almost forcing her to release the vines binding the bear. The voice cried at her to do precisely that.

‘You can’t! Undo your vines and run! Hurry!’
“Eeh? W-what are you talking about. I finally managed to catch…”

At that moment, the six-legged fire bear’s mouth opened wide to an unnatural extent, and Roselyne noticed as well.

“… it and…”

In the back of the bear’s throat, like a lamp burning in the depths of a cave, a dim and hazy light of—

‘Doooodddggeee!!’

Immediately following Insteen’s cry, a red, blazing breath of head emitted from the magic beast’s mouth.

 

 

 

9

A very short time indeed. One second, maybe two was all it time permitted. In that space, unraveling the vines and escaping out of blast range was impossible.
Roselyne could tell the enemy was trying to fire something from its mouth. From Insteen’s cornered cries, she additionally understood how dangerous of an attack it would be.
But that was all. The mere moments of time she’d been given were a signal of the end.
A bright red flame gushed out from the depths of the magic flame’s throat—

“UuuryaAAaaah!!”

And Roselyne cried out. What might be called her wilt intuition stirred her.
She put all the power she could into only the vine binding the six-legged fire bear’s right hind leg. Giving the face-down bear’s body a one hundred and eighty degree rotation, the flames flowing from its mouth following along, and sliding to the side. But for only an instant, the blaze grazed Roselyne’s feet. She grimaced her face in agony, crying out again in rage.

“Youuu!”

Her large lowered whip hit sharply into the six-legged fire bear’s right leg. The cries of magic beasts crossed. The bear writhed in agony. While it wasn’t fatal, at the very least, its bones had been cracked. On the other side, Roselyne wasn’t unscathed either.

“Hot, hot, hot, that hurts!”

She had suffered a burn around her shins. While Roselyne kicked her legs, enduring the pain, she unintentionally let the vines binding the fire bear slacken. Without letting the change slip by, the minute it managed to force itself free, it crawled in a sprint and leapt into the river.
Finally regaining her senses after a while, Roselyne grit her teeth to crush down the pain and humiliation. Her body was shaking.

“… Urrgh, now I’m pissed! I’m definitely killing it!”

Her face red in anger, she was about to chase her fleeing enemy into the river. But, ‘Wait! You can’t pursue that one any further!’
“!?”

She had never even dreamed she would be told to stop here. Stamping her feet into the riverside gravel for a sudden brake, Just as she reached a stop, she put up a fierce protest.

“Hey, what are you talking about! That was really hot, really painful! It still hurts! I’m sure it’s going to hurt for a while! I’m never forgiving that thing!”

Roselyne’s emotions exploded. In contrast, Insteen had already regained her usual cool, saying this in her usual tone.

‘I get how you feel, but I have no choice but to deem you lucky that you got off with such minor damage.’
“Eh…?”
‘I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not recognizing it as a ‘Six-Legged Fire Bear’ at once. The lifeforms of the forest should never under any circumstance pick a fight with that one. We’re no exception.’
“W… what’s with that. What do you mean?”
‘What I mean is, with bad luck, the forest is done for. It will all be burnt away to nothing. Albeit, rather than luck, it all depends on that thing’s mood.’
“…!”

Done for.
All burnt away to nothing.
Those turbulent words threw Roselyne’s heart rate out of order.

“You’re saying… that thing will burn it down? In that case, we definitely can’t let it get away! That’s right, I’ll get my vines around its feet, and drag it into the water. Then it’ll be fine no matter how much fire it breathes. We’ll drown it.”
‘Stop right there!’

As Roselyne swiftly spread her vines into the river, Insteen roared. Like a mother scolding her child who had done a truly bad thing, and extremely harsh voice. Roselyne’s shoulders jerked up, her vines stopped just before they might touch the water’s surface.

“I mean, I mean…”

And like the scolded child, Roselyne voiced her complaints in a teary voice.

‘Your idea isn’t bad. But are you confident you can take it out in the river? Unconditionally, I ask you? If you fail, it’s no longer a matter of luck. This forest will certainly be burned down. Are you fine with that?’

Roselyne’s face curved into a frown as she hung her head. She had no rebuttal.

‘At this point, if we convey we have no further will to attack, it shouldn’t go so far. That’s why you should step down. Retract your vines. Hurry!’
“…… Erk.”

While that was going on, the fire bear had crossed the river. Rising to shore with a beaten, but unabashed body, it turned towards them to observe the situation on this side. Its body was still swelling with tension, that fact was abundantly clear despite the river between them.
Roselyne—reluctantly—abided Insteen’s words, trailingly stepping back. She stowed away her vines. The sound of trampled riverside gravel eventually changed to the sound of rubbing against earth and underbrush. Eventually, her back hit against a single large tree, and she could retreat no further.
The six-legged fire bear didn’t even twitch as it closely observed her.

‘Now let’s go back already. Slowly, make sure you don’t incite it, slowly, gently, go back down the path you came.’
“Eh… Hey, wait a second.”
‘What?’
“We haven’t picked the blue roses yet. We’re going to bring it back, and make it bloom at our place.”
‘You’re still saying that?’

Insteen roared again. When she was yelled at in her head, it felt like a fist was smacked against her forehead. Roselyne instinctively ducked her head.

‘You came back to save the human, didn’t you? And you succeeded. Now give up on the rest of it. If you get too greedy wanting this and that, in the end, you’ll be left with nothing! Now!’

That tone was practically an order. With her head still pulled in, Roselyne groaned in gasped breath.

“….. Ur, urrgh…”

Much like a young human girl, Roselyne detested lectures and being told to do this, do that. So in the past, no matter how the voice resounded in her head, there were times she would ignore it and do what she wanted. Yet there was never a precedent where things went well.
See, that’s why I told you—was the line that came to her head more often than anything else in the world. Roselyne had learned from those sorts of experiences.
But today alone, she couldn’t find it in her to obey so easily.

“I mean…”

The blue roses on the opposite shore caught the gently breeze, waving as if to invite her. Perhaps due to her lingering regret, they looked far more beautiful than when she had seen them up close, glistening as they reflected back the light leaking through the trees. For something so pretty to not become hers, far too irritating, far too sad.
At that time, Cleo gently held something out.

“Umm, Roselyne, here…”

In his hand was the canteen—the canteen filled with three blue rose stems.

“Ah… AAaAh… Aaah!”

A hysteric voice leapt from her gaping wide mouth. The first half of ah was surprise, the last ah half showed her delight.

“I thought I’d like evidence we made it here, and picked them a moment ago.”
“……!”

In her delight, Roselyne’s cheeks flushed red. Her green eyes no longer reflected anything more than the blue flower petals.

‘Now isn’t that nice. He can do some considerate things, now and again.’
A moment passed and finally, “… Yeah! Yeah!” Roselyne energetically nodded. “Thank you Cleo! Really, really, really–” no matter how many times she said really, she felt it wasn’t enough. “—Really, really, thank you! Ah, this might be the first time I’ve felt so happy in my life!!” her body shook at the delight bursting from the pith of her body.
She no longer knew what to do with herself. She felt like embracing Cleo as he awkwardly scratched his head with a you’re welcome. While she personally didn’t understand what meaning the action carried, she was driven by insatiable urge to do so regardless. She didn’t get it, whatever the case, she wanted to hold him tight. If Insteen didn’t say anything, she’d surely have done so. What’s more, with enough force to tackle him down. But,

“Now you’ve got nothing keeping you, right? In that case get going. Hurry up.”

It was a slightly panicked voice. Ig she lingered any longer, she would likely get shouted out again. Roselyne begrudgingly contained her internal impulses.

“Ah, fine, I got it. Then Cleo, let’s get going. We’ll quickly return to our place and, umm, what was it again… right, right, get grafting!”
“…”

For a moment, Cleo showed a conflicted expression, but that soon turned to a cheerful nod.

“Y-you’re right, yes! In that case, let’s make haste. The more time passes, the more the flowers will weaken.”
“Is that how it works? Then do you want me to shoulder you again? That way’s much faster.”
“Oh… n-no, that’s…”

Cleo’s back bent reservedly. And it was then.

It truly was akin to thunder.

The mad magic beast called the two to a stop with an eardrum-piercing, fearsome roar.
Cleo leapt in surprise. Roselyne painstakingly, slowly turned around.

“What is it, you’re being noisy. I don’t care what happens to you anymore.”

But still the six-legged fire bear roared. While he was more than twenty meters away, they could clearly feel the atmosphere tremble. Roselyne stuck a finger in each ear and groaned.

“Shut up, shut up! I can’t deal with you anymore. Let’s go, Cleo.”
“Y-you’re right…”

Roselyne briskly entered the path. Cleo continued on behind her, taking just one last look back. The six-legged bear that had stopped bellowing slowly stood on its hind legs, turning its back to walk off on two. The way it walk spoke of the considerable damage it suffered to its right foot.
(… Good grief…)
He didn’t’ know what it was making such a ruckus over, but it seemed it had finally decided to give up and leave. If he’d only disappear into the thicket, then it would all be over and done with. Cleo thought, but that was a mistake. The six-legged fire bear sucked in a large breath, and breathed out a crimson flame.
The field of blue roses flared up as the inferno enveloped them.

“Eh!? Aah… aaaaaaaaah!”

In the blaze, the blue flowers curled and squirmed as if writhing in agony, they wilted, turned to black gas, and disappeared.

“Cleo, what–”

A returned Roselyne also witnessed the tragedy on the other shore.
Noooooooooo!!
An excessively shrill exclamation ran through the forest.

“T-the blue roses. Wai, what does this mean!? That thing’s burning it anyways!”

In chaos, Roselyne raised a bitter cry.
(What’s… its deal?)
Of course, Cleo couldn’t maintain his cool either. But driving his remaining rationality at full throttle, he thought. The fact he and Roseyne were quietly leaving without a fight was a fact so blatantly obvious presumably even a rhinoceros beetle could understand. So why did it breathe fire? Why did it burn? What did it want them to do? At that moment, Cleo noticed.
Rather, his eyes met with the bear’s in the breather between flame and flame.
In short, it wasn’t looking at Roselyne, but at Cleo. Why?
(…… Don’t tell me…?)
The six-legged fire bear bellowed again. It gazed clearly at Cleo. At that moment, the terrifying answer that had flashed across his brain: He got the feeling it had just been proven true.

“That thing…”

Cleo mustered a shaking voice.

“It’s threatening you to leave me behind…”

 

 

 

10

‘He’s… probably right.’
“…… Huh?”

Roselyne spat out a voice of doubt and displeasure.

“Ah… no, well… I think that one probably thinks of me as his own prey, that’s the feeling I’m getting…”
‘To that thing, the boy’s already his game. So he’s telling you to leave him.’

Cleo and Insteen, the two answered at once.
Roselyne froze. Leave Cleo behind? Or else, it would burn the roses, no perhaps the whole forest down. IF she wanted it to stop, she would need to hand over Cleo? But if she handed it Cleo, he would undoubtedly be eaten.

‘Roselyne.’
“………”
‘Listen to me. I know very well that you’ve got quite a liking for the boy. But…’

Roselyne didn’t respond. Without saying a word, she suddenly raced off towards the river.

‘Wait! What do you think you’re doing?’

There was no need to ask.

“I’m beating it to death! That’s the only way I know how!”

I can’t choose one or the other!

‘Wait! Stop! That thing breathes fire! If you enter the river, your movements were dull, you’ll become the perfect target! You’ll be burnt before you cross!’

Crackle.
Roselyne stopped her mad dash the moment before she leapt in. She got what Insteen was saying. She still retained that much rationality. She absolutely refused to accept it.

“If it breathes fire… then I’ll do that.”
‘… That?’
“Right, that.”
‘By that… you mean that!? You can’t, I told you before. That one’s way too risky.’
“… Risky?”

Roselyne shamelessly scoffed.

“What does risky mean again? I forgot.”
‘Roselyne!’

Ignoring Insteen’s cries that resounded through her head, Roselyne turned. She spoke to Cleo who had huddled up to hide from the magic beast’s eyes.

“Wait right there, Cleo. I’ll finish him off in no time. But just in case, you should get ready?”
“… Huh?”

Roselyne said with result. She stared straight at a hesitant Cleo and informed him.

“If I’m done in… I’m sorry, at that time, you’ll have to make it outside the forest alone.”
“……!” Cleo’s face froze.
Once again, “I’m sorry,” Roselyne said.

 

 

 

11

The girl who apologized and smiled.
When she laughed, she looked like she would cry any moment, the sort that constricted the chest simply looking at it—that sort of smile.

“Roselyne…”
“Yeah?” the young girl’s voice was gentle. “What is it? Cleo?”
“Umm……!”

Yet Cleo couldn’t say anything. ‘I’ll become his prey. Then everything will be settled.’ He didn’t have the courage. ‘Go get ‘em!’ when he was so powerless, he couldn’t say something so presumptuous. Unable to find the words to say, as he opened his closed his mouth as if gasping for air, Roselyne extended her vine without a sound, gently stroking Cleo’s cheek.

“… Rose…!”

Cleo tried to grasp her vine gently tickling him. But just when he was on the verge of touching it, the vine slipped away.

“Now I’ve got to go.”

And Roselyne changed her direction, glaring straight at the six-legged fire dragon.

“Stand back as far as you can, hide in the shadow of a tree. It’s dangerous, so you don’t show your face too much.”

Her back was like that of a soldier heading off to the site of their death. He had never seen a soldier’s back, but it was surely like this a powerful, melancholic back, he thought.
(Am I… fine with this…?)

Entrusting everything to Roselyne, doing nothing but watching. Was that really alright?
Seeing her smile a moment ago, Cleo thought. He held presentiment.
Roselyne might die.
To die meant she would never talk to him again.
She would never praise his paintings again.
She would never smile at him again.
She would
(No, that’s wrong! I… why am I only thinking about myself!?)
She didn’t have to talk to him!
She didn’t have to praise him!
She just had to smile, and to live—that was enough!
He thought. Those were undoubtedly his true feelings.
But,
Still,
Even so,
He hadn’t the courage to sacrifice himself and become food for the bear.
(just… how hopeless am I!? I can’t do anything, I don’t do anything… a hopeless human being! Trash! Scum! Garbage…!)
At that time, the one who surfaced in his head was, surprisingly enough, the face of the butler, Marcus. In his expression that showed disdain for a loser, he said this.

‘So just like that, you’ll tell yourself you’re hopeless, it’s hopeless, and you’ll immediately give up. You sure have it easy.’

Then what do you want me to do!?
His anger flared, but it wasn’t as if Marcus was directly speaking to his heart. Borrowing Marcus’ image, in the end, it was his own voice.
He noticed.
When there might still something left he could do, the fact he simply wasn’t doing it.
(I haven’t been thinking at all. What am I able to do myself–)
That’s right.
Becoming a magic beast’s meal or not was an option the other side had arbitrarily pushed on to him. He hadn’t the slightest need to tag along with it. If he wanted to think of a means to hit this crisis, the first step was consider, “What am I capable of?”
(Something I can do… what can I do…?)
Something I can do.
Something Roselyne can’t.
Something I can do because I’m me.
Something Roselyne won’t.
Ah…
A flash came to his brain.
It was almost like it had been there from the very start, but he had simply failed to notice—it perpetually failed to enter his eyes until the moment he thought to look at it. Like a pebble at the roadside—that sort of flash.

“…… Roselyne!”

He didn’t intend to shout, but in the excitement of unexpected inspiration, he ended up putting out a loud voice. At the very moment she would leap into the river, Roselyne opened her eyes wide and turned.
Cleo was only slightly indecisive.
(Will it really go as I want it?)
There was no guarantee. The same held true for if Roselyne went out alone.
(But, in that case… if it fails, I’m definitely…)
As if the numbness had faded, on the other bank, the six-legged fire bear gave another roar.
And making a show of breathing fire, it burned down even more of the roses. With that, around two-thirds of the blue roses were tragically converted to ash. The magic bear spewed fire still. Quite likely after it had gone through the blue roses, it would go on to light up the forest as a whole.

“I’m sorry, Cleo! I’ve got to go!”

Roselyne cried out. But Cleo had already made his resolve. He just had to do it. If he didn’t, it would all be ash. The forest, and Roselyne, all of it.
This time, I really will get in that river, Roselyne thought when Cleo made a meaningful proclamation to her back.

“I… have an idea!”

 

 

 

12

Roselyne and Insteen shared all the information that came in through her eyes and ears. Lending an ear to Cleo’s idea, Insteen thought.
(Fifty-fifty, perhaps? Yeah, I’ve nothing to say to that. But…)
(Even if it doesn’t go as planned, we might be able to inflict that one with some sort of injury. While it might not be fatal, with luck on our side, it might seal off its flames.)
(No matter how it goes, the boy’s the one at the forefront of danger. At least that part’s convenient for me. My top priority’s this kid’s safety. Everything else is a permissible sacrifice, or perhaps inconsequential.)
(And hey, if the boy dies, this child will lose her reason to fight. She might give up surprisingly easily. She’s a capricious girl after all.)
(When that happens, that thing can make off with the corpse, everyone wins.)
She thought.
She muttered in an internal voice so Roselyne couldn’t hear.

 

“You can’t do that! It’s dangerous.”

No sooner had Cleo finished his explanation did Roselyne’s complexion change.

“I mean… can you really do that? If you fail, if it doesn’t go well, you’ll be burnt up, Cleo. Hey, Insteen, don’t you think so too? It’s risky, isn’t it?”

Insteen appraised Cleo’s idea surprisingly high.

‘At the very least, it’s far more decent than you blindly rushing at it without a thought in your head. I certainly won’t say there’s no risk, but perhaps there’s some worth in trying it out.’
“Eh? B-but…”

Roselyne was perplexed by that inconceivable response. Insteen added on.

‘Of course, I am against that notion of you fighting that thing in and of itself. But you’re of the mind to fight no matter what happens, right? In order to protect the boy. In that case, I’d personally like you to at least pick the fighting method with the highest chances of success.’
“The fighting method with… a chance of success…?”
‘Yes.’
“You think… there’s a chance…? It really will go well…?”
‘That I do. If his words are to be believed. Whether it goes well or not is something no one will know unless you try it out. So what about you? You can’t trust him?’

The question was returned.
Roselyne honestly didn’t know how good Cleo’s idea was. She was terrible at using her head, and she didn’t like doing what she was terrible at. But if the problem was whether she could trust him or not, the answer was simple.

“Of course I can! If Cleo says it… I’ll believe! Yep!”

While that was going on, the roses continued to blaze. There was no time to hesitate.

“Let’s do this, Cleo! Ready?”

Cleo gave a strong nod.

“Anytime!”

 

On the other hand, the six-legged fire bear had reached the end of his patience. The enemy didn’t seem to have any intent to present that prey. That’s why it would burn. The bad guy was the one who made him burn the forest. Thanks to them, it would have to search for a new forest, it would have to move again. How irritating. So irritated it was, it had no choice but to burn. The leg that had been attacked still hurt, so it had to burn the place down after all. How unforgivable. This anger was something every lifeform living in the forest need to know. To burn.
It took in a large breath. It was about to breathe a breath at the remaining blue roses, and the thicket of trees that lay behind them. At that moment, a shrill voice suddenly resounded behind it.

“Oyy! You… you blasted bear!”

Startled, it swallowed down the fire it was on the verge of releasing. When it turned, that prey was floating above the river. The tentacles of the enemy on the opposite shore wrapped around the prey and lifted it in the air.
It thought she had finally gotten up to presenting him to it, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
The prey openly showed his hostility as he glared its way.

“You th… you think that makes you strong!? T-the likes of you? You just snap and make a mess of the place, so everyone knows you’re too much of a pain to deal with! You’re not, totally not scary at all!”
“I-if you’ve got something to say, come at me! Or are you only good for burning flowers that don’t fight back!? You cowwert! C-coward!”
“What’s wrong!? Get over here! You losin’ your nerve, dammit!”

Hah, hah… hah…
Once that was over, he breathed roughly and painfully with his nose, his shoulders moving up and down. The six-legged fire bear was—not losing his nerve but was- confused.
It really did want to leap out this moment, it really wanted to butcher him in one blow with its prided claws. That far-too-blatant provocative behavior made the magic beast’s fighting instinct throb to a painful extent.
But something was wrong. Something didn’t sit right in its stomach.
(Why is this one suddenly acting strong?)
This feeble animal that could only raise a scream and run when they first met? The beast’s deep black eyes roughly got a taste of Cleo from top to bottom.
(Is it that in his hand?)
(Does holding it make this one strong?)
The six-legged fire bear had met those sorts a number of times. Was this boy one of them? But it got the feeling that wasn’t the case. Its wild intuition was astir.
Its eyes suddenly caught something. There was something in the river. Something was disturbing the water’s flow; while on the water’s surface, chain-like lines intertwined and overlapped time and again, the six-legged fire bear’s eye clearly captured what was below.
A tentacle.
It finally accepted it.
In short, this feeble creature was bait. If it leapt into the water without knowing anything, its legs would be caught up, and it would be dragged underwater. There was considerable depth in the middle of the river, so it would likely scrape at nothingness until it drowned. That was dangerous.
Then what to do? To the bear, that was an exceedingly easy problem.
The point was, it simply didn’t have to enter the water. It took in a large breath.
The prey was well within firing range.
The six-legged fire bear opened its large mouth in a sneer, forcefully vomiting hellfire from the back of its throat.

Cleo was waiting for that.

The moment the bear opened its jaw, he swiftly took a stance with the adamantite sword in his hand. The moment he saw the red light in its throat, he cried out.

“Now, Roselyne!”

The flames emission from the bear’s mouth, and Cleo’s body taking off happened at practically the same time. Cleo was thrust into the flames head-on. There was no way the bear could tell what was happening.
The sword absorbed the scorching-hot flames from the point, letting off a dazzling light.
At a fearsome rate, the flames were sucked into the sword’s blade, Cleo’s body suffered not a single burn. In the next moment, the sword pierced deep into the magic beast’s throat. The point pierced out of its nape.
Unable to bear the impact, Cleo ended up parting his hands from the hilt.
(Did… did we do it?)
When he raised his face, his eyes met with the bear’s, less than thirty centimeters away.
“Wowoah!”He raised a scream and bent back. The six-legged fire bear showed no reaction. The sword had certainly pierced deep into its throat. In place of blood, it omitted bright-red blood as its huge bulk limply staggered.

“We did it…!”

Cleo was certain of his victory.

 

 

Still, the light hadn’t died from the six-legged fire bear’s pitch-black eyes. The magic beast slowly lifted up its forelegs, with its crooked black claws, a symbol of its brutality—a swipe.
The next instant, Cleo’s body retreated at the speed of an eagle. It was Roselyne’s doing. The bear’s claws cut futily through where Cleo had once been. The wind pressure lifted the bangs of his hair. Did the fire bear do it in regret of death? No, by the time it lowered its claws, perhaps it had already expired. Just like that, it lurched forward, its torso falling into the river. A roar, and impact, a spray of water.

“Cleo are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Roselyne’s worried voice reached his back.
Without her immediate action, he would surely have been done in by those claws Cleo turned, and managed an answer with his shaking voice.

“I… I’m fine…”

And he returned a stiff, forced smile. Below his feet, the blood spewing from the six-legged fire bear’s mouth seeped into the river, flowing away like a red ribbon.

 

 

 

 

13

“The roses burnt up…”
“So they did…”

The pitiful ash. Sadly, they could only be seen as some form of refuse. The two stood powerlessly on the spot. Only two, three plants made it out, while the remaining roses were all burned.

“Ah, god, this thing pisses me off!”

Snap. Whack.
The vine whip struck with anger. But the corpse showed no response. IT simply shook a bit from the impact. Cleo recalled how the sword had been left stuck in.

“Umm… Roselyne?”
“Yes? What.”
“I do apologize, but… could you turn its body over?”

Roselyne stared at him blankly.

“… I don’t mind, why?”
“No, well… the s-sword, you see, it’s still stuck in, so…”
“… Yeah.”

The moment Cleo voiced the word sword, Roselyne’s expression clouded over.
She silently reached out her vines, wrapped them around one arm of the corpse, and flopped it over on the other side. The six-legged fire bear’s face that had been submerged in the river now faced up, the hilt of the adamantite sword sprouting from its mouth now accessible. Cleo timidly approached the husk, gripped the hilt, and mustered his strength. With a deep breath, he grit his teeth, putting all his power into pulling it out……….
The sword wouldn’t budge.
Perhaps rigor mortis had stiffened its muscles on death. Cleo removed his hands from the hilt, falling onto his bottom, his shoulders swaying with rough breath.
(What do I do if I can’t take it out? I can’t just leave it…)
After steadying his breath, he psyched himself up for another attempt.
The result was the same.

“Move over, Cleo.”

When he turned, Roselyne was right behind him.

“Oh? … G-go ahead.” When he did what was asked, Roselyne swiftly wrapped a vine around the sword’s hilt.

“Hup.”

The adamantite sword that slipped out all too easily was presented to Cleo.

“There you go.”
“Ah… much thanks…”

Once Cleo had a hold of it, her vine came undone and retracted as if to say, ‘Ah, I can’t bear it anymore’. The blade was sticky with blood and fat. Before tucking I t into its scabbard, he rinsed it in the river and wiped it off with a handkerchief. During that time, the two of them didn’t exchange a word. An awkward silence flowed through.

“……”
“……”

It happened when he had sheathed it, when he was putting it in the rucksack. Roselyne opened her mouth.

“I still hate swords.”
“Eh?”

Raising her face, Roselyne discontentedly gazed at Cleo. He hurriedly covered his face, “I’m… I’m sorry…” he apologized. Silence again. His heart raced as he waited for her next words.
She continued this.

“That’s why you’d beeettteer not point that sword at me.”
“… Huh…?”
“If you point it at me… I’ll be really angry, you got that?”

With those words, Roselyne sullenly turned away.

“Ah…”

Cleo finally noticed those were words of implicit recognition for his ownership of a sword.

“… O-of course! Thank you most kindly!”

Roselyne remained turned away, “For… for what? It’s not what you think…” she awkwardly murmured. Her skin so white it would be abnormal for a human, her cheeks turned just a little red.

 

“Now there’s no use dawdling around here, let’s get going.”

By the time they noticed it, the sky was glimmering at the highest point in the sky. It was soon to be noon.

“If we take it easy, the roses will wither. Let’s hurry back and g, gr… graft?”
“… You’re right.”

They were already ready to go. But perhaps in relief from being freed from the fear of the magic beast, for a while now, his stomach was strangely starved.
Cleo couldn’t bring himself to say it honestly, so he tried asking in a roundabout way.

“But, umm… you’re not going to eat that?”

He pointed at the six-legged fire bear’s corpse.
Roseyne took a glance at it, her brow furrowed, and she soon turned away. It was a reaction as if she was looking at garbage that had fallen by the wayside. And, “I don’t need it,” she spat out. “I kinda don’t want to eat that one. I’ll admit I am a little hungry right now, but no matter how empty my stomach is, I kinda detest eating it.” Plucking a red fruit from a nearby tree, “I’d prefer one of these right now. Cleo, you’d like one too, right?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Cleo bit into the fruit he received from her vine. After he crunched into its firm texture, a sweet and sour, rich flavor spread plentifully through his mouth, and Cleo naturally thought this.
It’s good to be alive.
Thus the two of them took only fruit in place of lunch baskets, crossed the river, and hopped on the road back.
A while later, waiting for the time Roselyne and Cleo’s presences had completely disappeared, the smaller beasts materialized from the thicket one, then another. They heartily indulged in the corpse of the six-legged fire bear.

 

 

 

14

Upon returning to the ‘Cliff with Pretty Sunrise,’ the two lowered their luggage beside the grove of red roses, immediately getting to work. That being the case, Roselyne simply fidgeted by Cleo’s side.
The first necessary step was to recall the gardener Joseph’s teachings as accurately as possible.

 

① Cut the stock (the tree to be grafted onto. In this case, the red rose) around two to three centimeters from the ground.
② Create a slit in the stock to insert the scion (the tree to be grafted, in this case the blue rose). Cut in vertically from the edge of the cross-section.
③ Prepare the end of the scion to easily insert into the slit of the stock. Cut diagonally around half to one centimeter up the stem, and lightly cut from the other side to taper to a point.
④ Stick them together. Insert the scion into the slit on the stock. Carefully and swiftly. For both the stock and scion, make sure the edges of both cross sections are in contact.
⑤ Bind with a string or something of that effect to fix it in place. Not too tight, not too loose.
⑥ Pile up enough dirt around it to conceal the stock.

 

So was all the knowledge on grafting he finally managed to recall.
For each portion so distinct he could even remember Joseph’s voice, was another portion where he was so anxious he couldn’t help himself. But any more was impossible. The psychological stress of desperately digging up memories of the past was more than he could endure. It came with a throbbing pain as if his brain matter was swollen.
(Well, I’ve at least managed to recall the steps to some process.)
And next, he would need the tools. Be that as it may, he only needed one thing.

“Do you have anything long, something string-like?”
“String…?”
“To hold the blue rose in place, I need to tie it with something like a string.”

Roselyne tilted her head, she held out one of her own vines towards Cleo.

“This won’t do?”
“… Unfortunately not.”

That vine was a bit too thick. Roselyne sullenly dropped her shoulders There was no helping it, so the two of them fished around in the nearby thicket. There was a long blade of grass around fifty centimeters, and while he had some apprehensions about the strength, he decided to substitute it in.
(Now then…)
With that, all the preparations were in order. It was finally time to get to work. Cleo produced the Adamantite sword from his rucksack.
The time had come.
Taking a stance with the sword, a single stroke—was something he wasn’t confident enough for, so pushing the stem of the red rose that would serve as the stock against the blade, he grated it against it like a saw.

Silence. Saw. Snap.
Silence. Crick. Swoosh.
Silence. Swish. Swish
Silence. Slip. Set.

Right as he inserted the scion into the rootstock, Roselyne stuck in her mouth.

“You’re sticking it in at the edge? Wouldn’t you be better off putting it somewhere in the middle?”

Without resting his working hands, Cleo wound the long, narrow grass around as he answered.

“No, this position is best.”
“… Is that so?” Roselyne’s face was dubious once more.
“Yes. The plants vital activity is most active right under the skin, and when that part of a plant is damaged, its cells will multiply to regenerate it. Grafting makes use of that property.”
“… Hmm.”

Roselyne gave an ambiguous reply. She likely didn’t understand.

“So anyways… how long will it take before it’s stuck on?”
“When it’s stuck on? Umm, well let’s see…”

For just a moment, Cleo’s hand stopped. Before long, they were back to moving mechanically.

“If I recall, if all goes well, in two to three weeks, the scion… the but of the blur rose will begin to grow. By that point, it’s already stuck on.”
“Yes, meaning… you know a day, right? One day seven times is a week, and twenty-one times gives you three weeks.”
“Twenty-one? Hmm, so there’s a long way to go. Ah, sorry, have I been getting in the way?”
“Eh? No, not at all.”

Once the first graft was done, Cleo flowingly got into the second one.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Roselyne didn’t try talking to him again, in silence, she stared at the profile of the boy silently moving his hands. A gentle quiet enveloped the two. Like a river flowing without a sound, time leisurely flowed by.

 

 

 

15

Eventually, all the work was done; Cleo took a long, long—the sort that drained his body until he could stand no longer—sigh.
A deep breath followed. The comforting feeling of new air filling his lungs. It was almost as if his breath had completely stopped all while he was working.

“Are you done?” asked Roselyne.

Cleo answered, yeah, it’s over, lowering his hips to the ground.
Before his eyes, three grafted stalks stretched out from the ground, almost like scouring rush. Immersed in the sense of accomplishment at a job overcome, Cleo’s cheeks involuntarily went lax.
(I did my best, but…)
There was no guarantee effort always led to results.

“… I can’t wait to see what happens.”

Was Roselyne already seeing a blue rose in vibrant full bloom? With her eyes trailing a bud that just barely showed its face, it was as if she was looking at something far in the distance as she softly muttered.
And, Ukukuh, she laughed.

“Umm… this might be redundant, but I’m telling you it might fail. That’s why, er, you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high.”

When Cleo timidly drove the nail in, a shadow spread over Roselyne’s smile.

“Eh… I’m not allowed to hope?”
“I also want a blue rose to bloom. That’s why I did the best that I could. But just because you work hard, that doesn’t mean it’ll always go well. When it’s hopeless, it’s hopeless…”
“… That might be true, but…”

Roselyne made a lonely face, Cleo’s chest pricked with pain.

“But I… when I saw your face before, I got the impression it was going to go well.”
“…”

Cleo’s cheeks bloomed red.

“You were looking at m-my face…?”
“Yes! I was watching!” As if giving a bow, Roselyne nodded strongly with her entire body. “When you were grafting, Cleo, you looked really reliable and cool. That’s why I staaared like this and thought. ‘Ah, this is going to work out’ you know.”
“He-hey, wai… hu, uh…?”

Reliable? Cool? Who are you even talking about?
His face so flushed it could raise steam, Cleo frantically denied those words of praise.

“Ple… please don’t put such hopes on the likes of my face! N-n-no matter what I do, I’m just a hopeless, useless, no good human being!”

As if to brush away a fly loitering around him, he wildly swung around both hands. Roselyne blinked her eyes incessantly at Cleo’s abnormal dismay.

“What’s wrong? Why are you saying such things?”
“I mean… I mean…”
“I mean, you painted a picture for me,” Roselyne spoke while counting on her fingers. “You taught me a song, and you gave me a good name. When I walked how you told me, we found the blue rose, and when I did what you said, we took down that bear. One, two, three, four, five! Look at that, you’re not hopeless at all.”
“T-that’s…”
“Hey, are all humans this amazing? Or could it be Cleo is just really amazing?”

Cleo was at a loss for words.
Me, amazing? He shook his head from side to side. He wanted to say she was wrong, but his words wouldn’t come out.
Round, and round, and round, and round.
Those ungraspable thoughts overflowed and swirled. In the whirlpool, a single fragment of memory leapt out. His father. The morning he was to head out on the ‘Blue Rose Trial’, his father seeing him off. His father’s face was like that of a soulless doll. As if he was indifferent. As if it had nothing to do with him. He didn’t think in the slightest the Cleo would be able to safely accomplish the challenge. Forget that,
“This one can die for all I care,”
His eyes told a story. At the very least, Cleo thought so.
(Ever since Laurence was born, father gave up on me. No, perhaps it was far before Laurence came…)
He couldn’t remember when, but there were times Cleo felt it in his child’s mind.
He was only being raised by lack of a better alternative.
The will of the master of the house propagated to all those who worked within it. Within that, the only one to send Cleo words of hope were the gardener Joseph and his mother.

“I’m sure the young master can become the best painter in the world.”
“Painting, studies, if you give it your best, I’m sure you’ll stand at the top of both. Do your best.”

The two who said that were no longer of the world.
Now surely he would live the rest of his life without any hopes ever placed on him.
Alone in his room.
He had lived thinking it all the way.
(Ah… crap… this is bad…)
The corners of his eyes heated up, as if they had caught flame.

“W-what’s wrong, Cleo?” Roselyne raised a surprised face.
Cleo—was crying. His overflowing tears fell drip by drip from the tip of his chin.
His tears flowed with no stop, with no signs of drying up, and finally, Cleo raised a sob like that of a young child. Not knowing what she should do, Roselyne could only wave her hands in a fluster.

“C-Cleo… hey, what hurts? Did you cut your hand back there?”

Cleo wept as he shook his head.

“That’s not it? Then why are you crying? Tears are what come out when something’s hurting right? Hey, Insteen, what’s wrong with Cleo?”

At her wit’s end, Roselyne asked for help, but it seemed she didn’t get the answer she was looking for.

“Who knows? Wait… i-if you don’t know, there’s no way I could ever know. Ah, god, what am I supposed to do?”

A confused Roselyne.
A weeping Cleo.
Before long, the area grew dark.

 

Cleo prayed from his heart for all to go well.
If the graft succeeded, then Roselyne would surely delight.
“That’s amazing, Cleo!” no doubt she would praise him again.
But it wasn’t just that he wanted to be praised, he wanted to be the sort of person worthy of her praise. He wanted to be the sort who could continue to answer her expectations for times to come. Of course, he was aware that was something incredibly difficult. Never in his life had God ever helped him out, so Cleo looked to the sky, and prayed to Joseph in heaven. Please, let the blue roses bloom.
In the night sky stained by tears, the first star sparkled bright.





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