Chapter 629: After One Night (2)
A space with no discernible floor, walls, or ceiling—a place as boundless as the void.
There, two men sat facing each other.
"······."
"······."
The reason was unknown. They simply sat in silence, staring at one another.
For a very, very long time.
What felt like days had passed, yet throughout this long stretch of time, Oliver did nothing but sit quietly.
He neither spoke nor touched the cookie before him; he just gazed at the man opposite him.
A man whose face was obscured by deep shadows.
In the midst of the prolonged silence, one of them finally spoke.
It was the man with shadows cast over his face.
"Is the cookie not to your taste, child?"
The man looked at the untouched cookie, asking his question.
Though his eyes were unreadable due to the shadows veiling his face, Oliver sensed a certain gaze.
Oliver, looking at the shadowed man without a word, reached out, picked up a piece of the cookie, and placed it in his mouth.
Chew. Chew. Chew. Gulp.
"It’s good."
His comment was genuine. It was as though the cookie was crafted to match Oliver’s taste, making it impossible not to enjoy.
And yet, strangely, it didn’t have the same appeal it once had.
The only reason he’d eaten it was to be considerate to the man in front of him, who had provided it.
He didn’t know the man’s name or appearance, but this seemed like basic courtesy.
Perhaps that was why the pile of cookies before him felt a bit burdensome, and so he nudged it forward slightly, inviting the man to share.
"Would you like some as well, sir?"
"I'm fine."
The man shook his head, an almost resolute refusal.
"I’ve had so much in the past that I’m sick of them now."
"That's curious. I feel somewhat the same."
As Oliver moved to place the half-eaten cookie back on the plate, he hesitated, then popped it into his mouth and washed it down with some milk.
Only then did he completely relinquish his hold on the plate of cookies.
"Weren't you tired of it?"
"Putting something back after biting it would be impolite. So, I'll stop after this. But thank you for the thought."
At that, the man across from him stirred slightly.
It almost looked like he was smiling.
"Do as you wish."
"Thank you."
After exchanging a few meaningless words, Oliver sat back in his chair and resumed his silent observation of the man.
After all, this place was a dream. Oliver’s actions here were limited.
Although it might not be a dream, the man had once said it was up to Oliver’s interpretation, so Oliver decided to treat it as one.
So he planned to sit quietly and observe the man until he awoke on his own. Perhaps, if he kept looking, he might eventually see the man’s face.
At that moment, the man spoke again.
"You seem rather quiet. You used to be quite talkative."
"Well...what’s the point of asking questions if I won’t get any real answers?"
"Child, I have answered you. It's simply that you failed to listen properly."
Oliver recalled an instance in the past when the man had told him his name, though he hadn’t heard it clearly.
"Then, how can I hear it properly?"
"Well, you’d have to open your ears."
"See? You’re not giving me a real answer."
Oliver immediately retorted, as if he were frustrated or even a bit annoyed.
It was a typical exchange, but it wasn’t the usual Oliver-like response.
Even Oliver himself was surprised, his eyes widening.
Yet, the man was unexpectedly calm in contrast.
He showed no displeasure at Oliver’s irritation. Instead, he accepted it with quiet understanding.
Watching this, Oliver took a moment to reflect, then apologized.
"...I’m sorry. Lately, I’ve been feeling tired—no, I was wrong."
Rather than make an excuse about his exhaustion, Oliver simply admitted his fault and apologized.
There had been many recent events—the establishment of the Black Magic School, the cleanup of the Contaminated Zone, interactions with the Druid and the Piper. Yet he didn’t want to make excuses.
Fortunately, the man’s response was understanding.
"It's alright; don’t worry. Nicole... No. You must have had quite a hard time with that Piper."
"Do you know the Piper, sir?"
"I know most things. And that includes the Piper... Why? Does it upset you that there are beings that powerful?"
"No."
Oliver shook his head, answering without hesitation.
"It’s not strange to have those stronger than me, so I don’t feel particularly upset."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, the reason I learned black magic and pursued knowledge was purely to satisfy my own curiosity. It wasn’t to defeat anyone. So it doesn’t bother me if someone stronger exists."
"A good attitude. Achievement is about looking at oneself, not others."
"However, I do have a personal curiosity about the Piper. You seem to know his name, is that correct?"
"More precisely, I know the name he abandoned in the past. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you. It would be disrespectful to reveal a name that its owner has discarded."
Agreeing with this, Oliver refrained from pressing further, though his curiosity remained.
"Then, could you tell me why the Piper was so angry?"
Oliver recalled the Piper.
Average in height and build, dressed in clothes that, though worn, were neatly maintained. His sharp, snake-like eyes and a face that once seemed to smile.
He appeared calm and rational, but with his black magic sight, Oliver had glimpsed the fury within him.
The Piper’s anger was vast and deep, swallowing all other emotions beneath it.
It was fair to say he was consumed by rage.
Oliver was curious about why the Piper was so furious.
He didn’t know why. It was simply that the Piper’s emotions resonated with him more deeply than others’.
"A precious thing was lost."
Oliver remained silent. It was roughly what he’d anticipated.
Although he couldn’t explain how, Oliver had intuited that the Piper’s rage stemmed from losing something dear to him.
Then the man spoke, his voice tinged with something resembling regret.
"He shouldn’t have had to endure such pain."
"Sorry?"
"He could have lived without suffering if he’d wanted."
"Ah..."
Oliver let out a sigh of understanding, though he didn’t fully grasp what the man meant.
As he pondered, the man continued, saying something unexpected.
"Yet he didn’t. Even though he was born to enjoy every blessing and joy, and didn’t deserve any suffering."
"..."
Oliver tilted his head, puzzled by the idea of someone being inherently entitled to blessings and a life free of pain. But he couldn’t argue with it, so he kept silent.
"Is it strange?"
"No, I just don’t quite understand... You’re speaking about the Piper, correct?"
"...Yes."
The man answered Oliver a beat late.
Though something felt off, Oliver chose not to question it further and continued the conversation.
"Then how did he come to suffer so much?"
"He made that choice himself. Wrapping himself in ill-fitting skin, denying his true self, going against the natural order, and trying to live his own way. And in doing so, he lost what was precious."
"Was that wrong?"
Oliver asked as though he were speaking of his own situation.
"I wouldn’t say it was wrong. But apart from that, there are roles assigned to each of us in this world. Just as I am a gardener."
"Aren’t you no longer that?"
Oliver argued, and the man nodded.
"Yes. I’m doing nothing because I’m too tired. But I still hold the title of gardener. It’s not a position that can be left vacant. I must hold it until the next gardener appears."
The next gardener...
Despite wanting to avoid the thought, Oliver found himself thinking about it, even forming a question he didn’t intend to ask.
"Is this next gardener perhaps—"
"If you don’t want to do anything, then don’t."
"...Sorry?"
"I said you don’t have to do anything. I know I just spoke about natural order and roles in front of you, but even I am defying that order... So feel free to forget what I just said."
For the first time, the man’s previously unreadable demeanor showed emotion.
His feelings radiated exhaustion, guilt, pain, regret, and affection. Affection directed at Oliver.
"People find it easy to preach words, but following through is difficult. I’m not in a position to tell you what to do. You, too, have the right to choose."
"What kind of right?"
"The right to enjoy every blessing and joy by merely being born, the right to live without knowing pain. From the very beginning······."
The man’s words trailed off. At the same time, Oliver could finally make out the man’s elusive form more clearly. He appeared almost...
"······Ngh."
Oliver groaned as he opened his eyes.
At first, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling, and then a surge of pain spread throughout his body.
From head to toe, the searing agony clouded his mind, followed by an onslaught of voices through the piercing ring in his ears.
"He’s awake! He’s awake······!"
"Call the elder! Quickly!!"
"Oh, thank heavens······! What a relief."
"Have you regained consciousness?"
"Good grief, you had us worried."
A mix of emotions—joy, surprise, relief, gratitude, and concern—flashed like fireworks among those around him.
Yet, due to the pain that consumed his body and his hazy mind, Oliver found their reactions a bit overwhelming.
"Are you alright?"
Amidst the sudden rush of stimuli, Oliver saw a polished, bald head come into view.
"······Elder?"
"Thank goodness. You responded to my head, so you must be fine. Annoying, but just like usual."
After observing Oliver’s reaction, Merlin seemed to conclude that he was in no serious trouble.
Oliver, still struggling to comprehend the situation, attempted to sit up, only to be struck by a piercing pain that radiated throughout his entire body.
Ribs, spine, neck, organs, muscles—every part of him.
Despite his high pain tolerance, Oliver found himself holding his breath.
Just as he was about to collapse back onto the bed, two people appeared on either side of him to support him.
It was Mari and Jane.
"Chief."
"Dave."
"······Hello?"
Panting from the pain, Oliver greeted them, feeling as if he hadn’t seen them in ages.
It wasn’t only Mari and Jane; many others had gathered around.
Forest, Al, Joe and his comrades, Internal Affairs Minister Paul Carver, and even Kevin and Yareli from the Tower of Magic were there.
It felt almost like some sort of gathering.
"······Is there a reason for everyone’s presence?"
Oliver, his mind not yet fully clear, asked.
In response, Forest answered on behalf of the group.
"They’re all here to check on you."
To check on him...
Upon hearing that, Oliver realized that he was in a hospital and that he was injured badly enough to be wrapped in bandages.
It was the obvious result after facing the Piper.
"What about the Piper—?"
"He’s been driven away."
"By whom?"
"You."
"What?"
Oliver asked, dumbfounded, wondering if the meaning of "driven away" had changed while he was unconscious.
"Well, that’s how we announced it. You’ve been lying here for a while, you know."
At that, Oliver understood that he had been in a coma for a significant period. His internal clock, though hazy, told him this much.
Not that it was a major issue, but—
"—Wait a moment."
As if something had just occurred to him, Oliver looked around. He didn’t see it.
"Is something wrong?"
"By any chance, do you know where my quarterstaff is?"
A very, very important matter.
At that moment, someone approached Oliver and spoke.
"Teacher, here it is."
When he turned, he saw his quarterstaff. The one he had received from Kent.
Instinctively, Oliver reached out and grabbed it.
"Ah, thank you... Rosburn?"
He looked at the boy who had handed him the quarterstaff, recognizing him.
The boy gave a relieved smile.
"Yes... I'm glad to see you’re back with us."