Chapter 140.6: Volume 15: Chapter 3: Aura's Hard Work (6)

A dream.

I am having a dream.

I know this is a dream.

What was it called again?

Yeah, right. A lucid dream.

A dream where you are aware that you are dreaming.

I am a kid in the dream.

And—I was sent flying.

It doesn't hurt. Yes. It doesn't hurt because this is a dream.

Yet, it hurts.

My face throbbed with pain. I probably have a cut inside my mouth from the impact.

It tastes full of blood.

I can taste it even though it's a dream.

Strange.

Is this really a dream, I wonder.

A hand came into my view.

A small hand covered in dirt.

So it's a dream after all.

My hands are no longer so small.

I am relieved.

This is just a dream.

My vision moved.

—no! I don't want to stand. Yet, I stood.

I stood again, picking up the club I dropped.

Mother is standing before me.

She is expressionless. It's like she was wearing a mask. She is looking down at me with cold eyes.

She held a club in her hand, to beat me until I won't be able to stand anymore.

And then she swung it.

The present me could take it, but it was impossible for me at that time.

Just as I started to feel the pain, I'm flying through the air.

More pain coursed through my body after I got knocked to the ground.

My vision blurred.

It's the tears.

Suddenly, I wondered how long it had been since I last cried.

My gaze moved once again.

Mother is saying something.

I look at the club on the ground that left my hands at some point.

Mother probably told me to stand.

But I can't.

It's painful, and difficult.

I probably replied something to that effect while crying.

Mother's expression didn't change, but she slowly lifted her club and took a stance, like she wanted me to see her doing that.

I hear a voice.

I move my eyes, and I see a plump woman running towards us.

She is someone who helped with our household work. She made delicious food.

It's aunt Nazaire.

Her runny omelets were excellent. They were my favorite. Her cooking was the taste of my memories, and also the standard by which I judge other food.

Unfortunately, she has already passed away. If I am going to dream anyway, I would rather dream about eating her food instead of training with my mother.

I later learned that mothers are supposed to cook, but I don't have any memories of eating my mother's cooking. But I do remember someone saying that she likely had her hands full with my training.

I accepted that explanation back then because I was ignorant.

But now—after becoming an adult I can say for sure that was wrong.

I don't even have many memories of eating together with my mother. Most of my memories were of me eating alone.

"Good morning..."

Color returned to the world. Am I going to wake up? They should have woken me up sooner.

It's not like I forgot about it.

Yes, I can understand.

My mother hated me.

She probably found the child born from her rape extremely unpleasant.

So, my mother never celebrated my birthday.

I never received any words of encouragement from her.

Like "thank you".

Or "congratulations".

Or "Isn't that great!".

Even such common words.

In the first place—did my mother ever call me by my name?

I wonder who named me.

But, if she really hated me she should have just killed me.

She could have easily done that.

But I was not killed.

So, it stands to reason that I was not hated.

Maybe it's nothing more than a pitiful hope of mine.

"P-please hold, Faine-sama. She is still a child. It's not good to continue her training in this state"

Aunt Nazaire does not back down even after receiving mother's glare.

Thinking back, aunt Nazaire wasn't an ordinary person either.

"S-she will need to rest soon. I will prepare drinks..."

"She's fine."

"I will tend to her wounds while Faine-sama's having a drink so..."

"She's fine."

All of my wounds were healed by a wave of mother's hand.

The pain went away as well.

"You are fine, right?"

Mother brought her face closer.

A pair of glass-like eyes and a face devoid of any expression. Repulsive.

"...yes...I feel fine"

"That's right," mother turned to aunt Nazaire. "...are you satisfied? She is still alright, and she is already strong enough to withstand resurrection anyway. See? There's no problem at all"

"...Yes. Underst—"

"—Good Morning...Excuse me, is Zesshi-sama in there?"

She faintly heard a woman's timid voice. This was not a voice inside her dream. It came from reality.

Her consciousness broke through the surface.

She could see the ceiling. This was her own room. There was a presence of a person in the room, besides her. Maybe it was because she wasn't fully awake, but she couldn't feel any hostility from the person.

"If I am going to dream anyway, at least let me dream about something magical..." she whispered. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Feeling something moist on her fingers, she realized that she cried at some point. "—I woke up, just now. Can you wait a minute?"

"Hiyeeee! Please don't worry about a lowly person like me! I will wait however long it takes, so please take your time!"

She didn't say a single thing to threaten the woman, but she was extremely scared. Feeling like sighing again, Zesshi rose from the bed and put on a coat that hung on a nearby chair.

She knew who came to her room from their voice.

Zesshi felt like she didn't need to take time dressing up as the visitor was a colleague of the same sex, and it would be rude to make her wait in the next room until she got completely dressed up.

When she opened the door to the next room and entered it, she found the visitor standing there like she didn't know what to do with herself.

"—Sorry for making you wait. It would have been fine if you took a seat"

"No, no, I didn't have to wait for long at all. That said, heheheh. Sorry for disturbing Zesshi-sama's rest. I would be glad if you could forgive me."

She servilely bowed with an amicable smile on her face. Also—probably unconsciously—she even started rubbing her hands together. For one of the trump cards of the theocracy—the 11th seat of the Black Scripture, with the title of "Infinite Magic," and one who reached the realm of heroes—this behavior was too pathetic.

"So then, won't you take a seat?"

"No, no, no, no. That's not necessary. I will return immediately after giving the message so something like sitting on Zesshi-sama's sofa..."

She shook her hands in a fluster.

She didn't have to reject it so vehemently, Zesshi thought.

"Nothing will happen just because you took a seat, and it's not like I will get angry you know? No, I really won't...you don't have to be so abject...aren't we colleagues?"

When she heard that, an obsequious smile floated to the woman's face.

"Ehehehe, I apologize that Zesshi-sama has to call a worm like me her colleague."

"No, you don't really have to go that far... You see. Among the people I've dealt with—among the members of the Black Scripture that I had mock battles with, you are the most servile you know? ...to think that you used to be so conceited."

The Black Scripture was a gathering of heroes. Therefore, occasionally some newcomers would think too highly of themselves. One of Zesshi's duties was to break them in. Therefore, even though all of the Black Scripture were her colleagues, she was only acquainted with the haughty guys.

That said, it was something she did to every member of the Black Scripture who grew arrogant, so it's not like this woman was special. Even the captain, who she disciplined harder than this woman—she sometimes even regretted that she might have gone too far with the captain—treated her normally now. Yet, only this woman acted like this.

Maybe just getting broken in was already a bit too much for this woman.

I should take into account things like their personality next time...

"It's bad to be arrogant, but couldn't you at least act a bit more confident?"

"Heh, eheheh. I can't do such a thing before Zesshi-sama"

She started rubbing her hands even more intensely.

Zesshi thought she didn't do anything that would make her go this far.

She only advanced while taking the woman's magic head on, mounted her, and just single-mindedly punched her in the face—and because it was supposed to be training—took care to not kill her while beating her into a pulp.

Zesshi had seen her not recognizing her defeat, throwing out her spells even when pinned, so she admired her as someone with a spine. Since then, she had even learned to cast spells while bearing the pain. She was someone with a desire to improve herself.

Zesshi felt a little sad seeing a person she had high opinions of acting like this before her.

"...And so, what's the matter today? Though I have an idea what it is about"

"R-right. As expected of..."

"—Aa, enough with the flattery."

"Ah, Y-yes. As the elf subjugation army started advancing further, I was entrusted with informing Zesshi-sama to start her preparations to head out."

"Is that so..."

The woman's face twitched when she saw Zesshi smiling. Zesshi wondered why because she wasn't making a scary face but just smiling normally.

"I wonder if I could clear one of the bones stuck in my throat at last."