The Regressor and the Blind Saint-Novel

༺ Delusional Obsession (2) ༻

Time passed indifferently, even amid the chaotic situation.

Maleus was still in the closed-off palace, and the undead were guarding its front.

Meanwhile, the group busily looked around the Cradle for something to do.

In the midst of those days, Vera, who was continuing his training to awaken his Intention as usual, took a moment to visit the reception room where Renee was.

“Saint.”

“Ah, Vera?”

In the middle of the reception room.

Renee, who was flipping through papers alone in the middle of the big table across from Vera, raised her head.

Vera smiled softly and captured Renee’s appearance in his eyes.

Her white hair cascaded gently as she lifted her head.

A small smile spread across her lips, like ripples on a lake.

The eyes resembling transparent sky were beautifully curved towards the empty air, as if they didn’t know where to go.

Vera felt the oath in his heart burn warmly at the sight.

That was the destination of his Intention. There was the light that his pure white sword must follow for the rest of its life.

Remembering how much he liked the tickling warmth that came over him whenever he was with Renee, Vera walked over to her and held out his hand.

His hand reached for the thick papers scattered across the table.

The papers he picked up were stacks of paperwork the group had prepared especially for Renee, with the letters embossed large enough that what was written could be discerned by touch.

“Is there anything uncomfortable?”

Vera asked as he gathered and organized the papers. When he asked because he was unfamiliar with embossing letters on paper, Renee smiled and answered.

“Huh? Ah, the paper? There is none! It’s really good.”

Her hair, which had fallen over her shoulder, swayed with the sound of her giggles.

“What should I call this… Ah, right. It’s fun! Whether it’s turning the paper over with my hands, touching and feeling letters one by one, or assembling them into a sentence in my head. Everything is fun.”

As if her words weren’t a lie, Renee spoke excitedly while stroking the paper. Vera’s smile widened as he watched her.

‘I was worried for nothing.’

Vera had expected Renee to struggle with things like turning pages, reading letters from the top, and understanding them since she had never seen a book with her own eyes in her life, but Renee’s bright appearance made him feel relieved.

At the same time, he felt a truly strange emotion.

It was a mixture of pride in Renee’s growth and a feeling of emptiness that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“That’s a good thing.”

“It’s all thanks to everyone’s hard work.”

Renee was somehow growing up in a different direction than he knew, but Vera didn’t think that was a bad thing.

No matter what, Renee was Renee. Renee was someone who was always trying to improve, so a change in personality was not a flaw.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Your health always comes first…”

“Pfft! Come on, really? That’s so… totally like an old man.”

…No, that might be a bit of a flaw.

Vera glared at Renee with narrowed eyes, then reached out and pinched Renee’s cheek.

“It is not a good habit to enjoy making fun of others.”

“Bhut, I only dho this tho Verha…”

“Then it is a worse habit to have. It is a very evil attitude to take pleasure in harassing a particular person.”

Even as her cheeks were being pulled, Renee pouted and then pulled Vera’s hand away before speaking again.

“…But if I don’t do this, Vera won’t respond. That’s Vera being bad.”

Vera shut his mouth at her whining. A troubled look began to cross his face.

The atmosphere quickly grew heavy.

Meanwhile, Renee stopped rubbing the wrist that she was holding and smiled.

“Why are you being silent? Are you sorry?”

At the mischievous tone, Vera belatedly realized that Renee was playing a prank on him again and then replied with a furrowed brow.

“…I’m not sorry in the slightest.”

“Oh, that’s another one I’ve never heard before. Vera, who doesn’t feel sorry at all! This is very precious.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s funny for me.”

Renee giggled.

Vera sighed heavily and then laughed with her.

Renee’s bubbly appearance was so pleasant that it was impossible to hate her. Even that appearance made Vera happy, so he smiled back.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“It’s an exercise.”

“Well, I’ll leave it at that. My back is bothering me anyway. Let’s walk a bit.”

Grabbing the cane leaning against the side of the table, Renee stood up. She held out her hand to Vera.

As Vera clasped his hand on hers, Renee grinned and said to him.

“Shall we go then?”

Renee’s fingers wriggled in Vera’s hand. Feeling it tickle his heart, not his hand, Vera replied while thinking pointless thoughts that maybe Renee really did have the ability to tickle his heart with her hand.

“Yes.”

***

Hodrick felt restless about a change that had recently happened to him.

‘A dream…’

It was a dream he suddenly started having one day.

He began to worry about it.

The cause of this was beyond Hodrick’s understanding.

He was an undead. A moving corpse that lives on for eternity because of lingering attachments.

It was rather strange for an undead like him, who didn’t sleep, to lightly think of having a dream.

In front of the old castle gate, Hodrick stared blankly at the sight of the Cradle before him, reliving the dream with a sinking heart.

Burning wooden buildings and incessant screaming. Unknown men running rampant with menacing knives, and the weak civilians running away from them. He replayed those scenes and tried to find their meaning.

It was literally trying to find ‘meaning’ in the dream.

Hodrick already knew the true identity of the dream.

The dream was his own lingering attachment.

It was a memory of the moment when his past self, who could only flap his mouth and make promises he couldn’t keep, was finally punished for it.

The deep and vivid memories began to overlap with the scenery of the Cradle.

— Honey!

His wife Della, covered in blood, cried out from under the burning building. His most precious treasure, Usher, grew cold in her arms.

Grab—

No matter how many times Hodrick relived the memory and clenched his sword tightly to crush the building, he could not draw his sword.

Because it was already a thing of the past.

Because Hodrick didn’t know how to cut through the past.

— Kyaaaak!!!

A suspicious man thrust out his sword.

Stab—

Della’s heart was pierced before Hodrick’s eyes.

A pure white blade pierced through her body, leaving it adorned with red.

If he were in a living body right now, he would have stopped breathing.

Hodrick just watched those moments with terribly shaken feelings.

Because the reason why he called this illusion a ‘dream’ now came out.

The sword pushed Della away with a gruesome motion. It scattered the red paint on its body to the ground.

After that, the suspicious man holding the despicable sword let out a long breath.

He turned his head to Hodrick, and took off the mask he was wearing.

[…]

The suspicious man’s face, that unkempt brown hair and the bushy beard. It all belonged to him when he was alive.

Creak. Creak.

The suspicious man stepped across the half-torn wooden floor.

Then, one by one, other suspicious men took off their masks and approached.

Strangely, all the suspicious men had the same face as Hodrick when he was alive.

It was this.

The reason why Hodrick called what happened to him as a ‘dream’.

The reason he called it a nightmare made of lingering attachment.

Hodrick referred to it as a ‘dream’ because the self-reproach, stemming from the belief that he had orchestrated that regrettable moment, had transformed into something akin to this.

[Such fools.]

Hodrick said sharply in an angry voice to his past self.

[Why did you make those vows you could not keep?]

He poured out his resentment.

But, even so, they didn’t offer an answer.

Being fools who only knew how to create tragedy, they simply raised their swords and prepared to lunge at Hodrick.

At that moment, Hodrick’s hand moved beyond perceptible speed.

With a swish, the man in the vanguard who had pierced Della’s heart fell.

As if that was the trigger, the rest of the men lunged at once.

Hodrick slashed at them with the calm, burning rage in his sword.

Those were sword attacks with stronger Intention than ever before.

It was a sword that chased away the lingering regrets that had become illusions.

Unable to cut through the past, it could only cut through the illusions in the form of that past.

And in doing so, it became a sword that exhausted Hodrick until he himself became an illusion.

Hodrick’s sword, which Vera had once described as ‘like a mirage’, danced joyfully as if this were its own stage.

As the last of them fell, Hodrick’s body suddenly jerked.

[…Ah.]

He stopped moving and looked at his hands in surprise.

Hodrick thought he was just reliving the memory, but he had a sword in his hand before he knew it. When he looked up, the castle gates of the Cradle were in ruins.

In the meantime, he was immersed in the dream again.

A sense of crisis rose in Hodrick.

‘It’s dangerous.’

This was not a normal thing. He didn’t know the reason, but at least Hodrick could feel it all too clearly that something was wrong with him.

Hodrick sheathed his sword with a shaky movement, then raised his head to look in the direction of the King’s Palace.

[Of all occasions…]

Why does this have to happen at this time when Maleus is away?

Hodrick felt a shudder at the devastated heart, but then he remembered someone who would be hurt if a bigger problem happened to him now.

‘…Young Lady.’

He thought of Jenny.

He thought of the tears Jenny would shed.

A child who really resembled Usher. A lovely girl with a lot of affection and a lot of shyness. A warm girl who considered even sinful souls as family.

Hodrick didn’t want her to be sad.

[…]

Hodrick’s head turned to the sky. The ashen sky that covered the Cradle was there.

As the agonizing thoughts raced through his mind, Hodrick made a decision.

[…Your Majesty.]

It wouldn’t be heard, but Hodrick opened his mouth with an apologetic heart.

[I’m sorry. I don’t want to regret it twice.]

He didn’t want his loved ones to be hurt by his sin.

If anyone had to be hurt, he hoped it would be him.

Hodrick pushed himself upright.

He refined the deathly aura that had been flowing until just before.

Hodrick, who had been frozen like a statue for a moment, soon slowly entered the castle.

He headed in the direction where he could feel Vera’s divinity.

***

In a secluded corner of the old castle.

Vera stared at Hodrick, breathless.

The hardened face and the mouth that kept opening and closing as it couldn’t find the words to say expressed his surprise.

“…What?”

The word barely managed to escape his lips.

Hodrick felt his guilt rising at the sight of Vera and replied.

[You heard correctly. Please, kill me.]

After uttering those words, Hodrick realized his explanation seemed insufficient and elaborated further.

[No, it must be a little strange to ask you to kill someone who is already dead. Allow me to rephrase. Please, put an end to me. I believe Sir Vera is capable of doing so.]

What came out of Hodrick’s mouth were nonchalant words as if it were of no consequence, maybe even a joke.