Chapter 97
“Huh.”
For a moment, Exion remembered something.
It was a memory from long ago.
“This is nothing. It’s just a wound, that’s all.”
The sound of rain came flooding back. It was the memory of that day—the one Exion believed he had never forgotten for even a single day, the one he had resented Arzeletta for ever since.
…And yet, ironically, it was he who had forgotten that conversation first.
It had been a day of torrential rain. Rain heavy enough to wash away all the noise in the world. Two drenched children huddled together under the vines, leaning against one another. Without that, they might have died from the cold.
The rain poured down in torrents—louder, heavier than any he had ever experienced since. It had rained so hard that sometimes Exion doubted his memory of it. Every time he saw Arzeletta act as if she didn’t know him, those doubts would rise again.
Could it really rain so hard that you couldn’t see ahead, that all the sounds of the world were erased?
Was that memory of his fabricated? Was it all just a delusion?
“……”
Exion opened his left hand. And yet, the mark from that day still remained so clearly on his arm, too clear for a delusion.
It was a scar from when they’d pushed through the underbrush together in the rain. A spot that young Arzeletta had once pressed her lips to.
His body was full of scars, but that particular wound—its unusual shape, cut by a blade of grass—he cherished like a talisman.
That was why he would get so angry every time he saw Arzeletta. She had left him with something that would never fade, and yet she acted like she didn’t even know who he was.
She had made it so he couldn’t even stand at attention for anyone but her…
“……”
Maybe to Arzeletta, that memory wasn’t anything special.
Maybe he was just one of the many townspeople who tormented her. Just one among the faceless crowd.
And the one who was still beating with nervous energy, still holding onto the sensation of that day after all this time—was only him.
Exion recalled the conversation from that day, the one even he had forgotten until now.
The sound of rain, like it was crashing down beneath a waterfall, had felt like it was breaking something inside him and washing it away.
Maybe that was why he said what he did to the girl who had always sided with the crowd and thrown stones with the rest.
…But more than anything, it was the most sincere thing he had ever said. Even as he hurled stones and cursed her to marry a hunchback, somewhere deep inside, he had always been thinking:
‘You’re beautiful.’
“Damn it.”
‘It’s just a wound. Anyone who thinks something like this is contagious is a complete idiot.’
“Damn it, damn it.”
‘Scars can’t ruin you. Among all the girls I know… you’re the prettiest.’
Exion suddenly sprang to his feet. Even the back of his neck had turned red.
‘Scars aren’t something to be ashamed of. They’re proof that you were hurt. And that you endured it well. To a warrior, scars are something to be proud of.’
It was such an unbearably cheesy thing to say that it made his face burn, and perhaps that’s why he had buried it deep in his memory. But that wasn’t what mattered now.
The point was, he had already once given the right answer.
Well—he didn’t know if it was truly the right answer, but it was definitely the most sincere and best answer his foolish self could come up with.
That was what he should have given Arzeletta. Just like he had back then—bravely, as if no other sound in the world could reach him, speaking only from the heart.
“I could never marry anyone anyway. No man would ever want to marry a monster.”
“……”
Exion clenched his fists tightly. The answer was so simple.
It was because he hadn’t said what he needed to in that moment that he ended up lying awake through sleepless nights. That nagging feeling that he had let something slip by—his bottomless self-reproach—had all begun from there.
That was the reason everything made sense.
It wasn’t that he had wanted to be angry at Arzeletta.
It certainly wasn’t that he had wanted to treat her so harshly.
What he really wanted to say was…
“Arzeletta.”
Realizing the answer, Exion called out her name.
Only after saying it aloud did he realize he had never actually called her name properly before.
“Arzeletta, Arzeletta.”
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