Chapter 6
01_The abandoned princess
Some time later, Mr. Lawrence died.
He was a patient whom Prina had diligently cared for, praying day and night for quite some time.
“…A, A reaper!”
“L-Lies! You witch! That jet-black hair… you’re a reaper!”
The sound of him, in the grip of delirium, shouting as if in a fit, still rang vividly in her ears.
She wanted to believe he was seeing things, but it was clear those words were meant for her.
He had struggled, even spat at her, but Prina understood him. She thought, just how afraid must he have been, with death’s shadow looming over him.
But, as if it were a lie, Mr. Lawrence never woke up after that day.
Remembering it made her feel as if she really had become a reaper. She had only tried her best to save him. With a touch of self-deprecation, Prina let out a faint sigh.
It had seemed like his condition was improving a little. But once it started to worsen, the end came as quickly as a sandcastle collapsing.
Life, which sometimes seems so tenacious, could also be this fragile.
A patient under her care had died. As she always cared for those close to death, it wasn’t uncommon, yet the memory of that day lingered more than most.
Prina laid new sheets on the now-empty bed, smoothing out the wrinkles with her palm. The feeling under her hand was cold and unfamiliar. If death had a texture, it would probably feel like this, she thought in passing.
To care for and look after the weak was her duty.
Prina believed it was the mission given to her by the divine. Yet sometimes, after sending off those she cared for so earnestly into the divine’s embrace, it all felt meaningless.
Perhaps that’s why, Prina suddenly recalled the words of that stranger from the other day.
“This is my job.”
With the dying light in its eyes, he had gripped the wounded animal so roughly in his hands, claiming that it was his job. At the time, it had been chilling, but now, thinking it over…
‘…What kind of job would that be?’
Was there really such a profession? Prina mulled over the man’s strange answer again and again.
‘Could he be a hunter?’
Someone whose job is to collect injured or dead animals in the forest. Who else could that be, but a hunter? It seemed natural to think so.
Is it truly wrong for a hunter to catch animals?
Some people need meat, or use fur and pelts. There are people like herself who heal the weak, but there are also those like hunters who must catch the weak to survive. Prina did not deny this order of the world.
What if he hadn’t meant to be cruel, and had only intended to take in a rabbit that had been injured by a snare or trap?
Strictly speaking, he hadn’t acted threateningly.
He had simply picked up an injured rabbit.
Led by misplaced compassion, she had resented and feared him from the start. Maybe she’d wrongfully treated an innocent person as strange. In hindsight, she even felt a bit of embarrassment, her face flushing.
But thoughts and feelings are different things.
No matter what kind of work he did, she couldn’t shake the lingering sense of dread he gave her.
“Everything that breathes dies anyway. Especially things as weak as this. They’re meant to be trampled.”
Even when speaking of the death of something weak, which would usually evoke pity, he was perfectly calm. There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment. That unshakable composure only grated on Prina’s nerves all the more.
Even when she tried not to think about it, that intense memory drifted through her mind, poking at her like an awl in her pocket.
The injured rabbit had had its wound stitched and dressed with herbs. At first, it had trembled in fear and refused to eat, but gradually regained stability thanks to her gentle care.
Perhaps realizing it was being helped, it no longer refused Prina’s touch. Once its wounds fully healed, she would be able to send it back to the forest.
Letting it go was also part of the order of nature. She couldn’t let herself be selfish when she didn’t have the means.
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