Episode 1. Damn Goddess, Bercheria
Bercheria, my beloved daughter.
Do you know that you are the most special child in the world?
When you laugh, even in the depths of winter, warm sunlight shines down, life blossoms, and the fruit's flesh blossoms with a sugary sweetness.
Then, the humans outside will scream with happiness.
But when you cry, rain falls for a long time.
The frozen ground loses life and rots away.
Then, the humans who watch this shed tears of blood.
Bercheria, you are a child of God who can kill all of humanity, whether happy or unhappy, depending on your mood.
So remember: you must never cross paths with any human.
No one in the world does not hates Bercheria.
Now, look at the tower of darkness I have created for Bercheria.
This is a sacred place where no one can enter or leave, where only you exist.
Look. Isn't it so beautiful?
If by any chance the dry bread I brought you tastes bad, imagine the delicious juice you gave humans.
Never think bad thoughts.
You are a child who must be happy.
My beloved daughter, Berche.
If this mother scolds you, persecutes you, and beats you, please understand.
It's all because I love you too much.
I have no choice but to protect you from humans who hate you.
Now, smile, my Bercheria. As long as this mother breathes, the tower of darkness and the dry bread will be with you.
Let's live happily without any worries.
My daughter, Berche.
Mother loves you so much.
Forever.
The Empire of Periat.
In the harsh north where the biting wind blows, in the northernmost border region, a tall tower shrouded in fog stands tall.
Long ago, this tower, said to be home to Bercheria, the goddess of weather, had a peculiar shape, lacking even a passageway.
It was a cursed tower, impenetrable to all, and once inside, no one could escape.
The setting sun slanted a woman hanging from the tower's waist.
"Haa, haa."
Dangling from a thin rope, she looked precarious, as if she might fall at any moment.
A dry, dusty wind blew, causing her voluminous blonde hair to billow and then sink onto her small body.
The woman clutched the rope tightly with frail hands, as if it would break, and took several deep breaths.
Raising her trembling head, she gazed up at the tower's summit, a distant sight.
Blinking, her golden eyes flickered; she moved her arms again and began descending.
Soon, a darkness so dark that she could not see an inch ahead engulfed the entire forest.
A long time later, the rope attached to one side of the tower's wall swayed like a snake.
Then, suddenly...
Whirl!
The rope snapped at the top and plummeted terribly downward.
The long tower, shrouded in fog, held only a serene silence, as if nothing had ever happened.
Butler Timothy walked across the study and placed a steaming teacup on the large mahogany desk.
“I’m seriously worried. I think we might all die at this rate.”
“Hmm.”
Lacrahan flipped a page with his long fingers, then crossed his arms with an indifferent expression.
“These days, it’s scary to go down to the village. It hurts so much I can’t even look. Ha. At times like this, I really miss Bercheria so much.”
A dry wind blew through the window, leaving a white dusting on the glass before disappearing.
Timothy’s face, gazing at the scenery, was filled with worry.
“It hasn’t rained for over three months already. I don’t know how many more people have to die before this drought ends. If this isn’t the curse of Bercheria, then what is?”
Although the north was winter all year round, snow and rain fell at regular intervals, so the crops they grew, such as sweet potatoes and garlic, were all incredibly sweet and firm.
They maintained their abundance by bartering the crops they grew with nearby border regions or periodically delivering them to the capital.
It wasn’t just the north.
The Periat Empire was originally a fertile land protected by Bercheria, the goddess of weather.
But at some point, the protective aura evaporated, and only a harsh winter, making people tremble, descended.
People believed it to be the god's sabbatical year, a year that came once every hundred years.
But one year passed, and another, and the guardian of Bercheria did not return.
From then on, the north became an unpredictable land plagued by extreme temperatures.
Crops could not be grown, for fear of what weather would strike at any moment, and even animals, unable to withstand the volatile weather, left.
If Lacrahan had not moved his territory here a decade ago, everyone would have abandoned the north or starved to death there.
"Bercheria is not worthy of being called a god."
Bercheria, my beloved daughter.
Do you know that you are the most special child in the world?
When you laugh, even in the depths of winter, warm sunlight shines down, life blossoms, and the fruit's flesh blossoms with a sugary sweetness.
Then, the humans outside will scream with happiness.
But when you cry, rain falls for a long time.
The frozen ground loses life and rots away.
Then, the humans who watch this shed tears of blood.
Bercheria, you are a child of God who can kill all of humanity, whether happy or unhappy, depending on your mood.
So remember: you must never cross paths with any human.
No one in the world does not hates Bercheria.
Now, look at the tower of darkness I have created for Bercheria.
This is a sacred place where no one can enter or leave, where only you exist.
Look. Isn't it so beautiful?
If by any chance the dry bread I brought you tastes bad, imagine the delicious juice you gave humans.
Never think bad thoughts.
You are a child who must be happy.
My beloved daughter, Berche.
If this mother scolds you, persecutes you, and beats you, please understand.
It's all because I love you too much.
I have no choice but to protect you from humans who hate you.
Now, smile, my Bercheria. As long as this mother breathes, the tower of darkness and the dry bread will be with you.
Let's live happily without any worries.
My daughter, Berche.
Mother loves you so much.
Forever.
***
The Empire of Periat.
In the harsh north where the biting wind blows, in the northernmost border region, a tall tower shrouded in fog stands tall.
Long ago, this tower, said to be home to Bercheria, the goddess of weather, had a peculiar shape, lacking even a passageway.
It was a cursed tower, impenetrable to all, and once inside, no one could escape.
The setting sun slanted a woman hanging from the tower's waist.
"Haa, haa."
Dangling from a thin rope, she looked precarious, as if she might fall at any moment.
A dry, dusty wind blew, causing her voluminous blonde hair to billow and then sink onto her small body.
The woman clutched the rope tightly with frail hands, as if it would break, and took several deep breaths.
Raising her trembling head, she gazed up at the tower's summit, a distant sight.
Blinking, her golden eyes flickered; she moved her arms again and began descending.
Soon, a darkness so dark that she could not see an inch ahead engulfed the entire forest.
A long time later, the rope attached to one side of the tower's wall swayed like a snake.
Then, suddenly...
Whirl!
The rope snapped at the top and plummeted terribly downward.
The long tower, shrouded in fog, held only a serene silence, as if nothing had ever happened.
***
Butler Timothy walked across the study and placed a steaming teacup on the large mahogany desk.
“I’m seriously worried. I think we might all die at this rate.”
“Hmm.”
Lacrahan flipped a page with his long fingers, then crossed his arms with an indifferent expression.
“These days, it’s scary to go down to the village. It hurts so much I can’t even look. Ha. At times like this, I really miss Bercheria so much.”
A dry wind blew through the window, leaving a white dusting on the glass before disappearing.
Timothy’s face, gazing at the scenery, was filled with worry.
“It hasn’t rained for over three months already. I don’t know how many more people have to die before this drought ends. If this isn’t the curse of Bercheria, then what is?”
Although the north was winter all year round, snow and rain fell at regular intervals, so the crops they grew, such as sweet potatoes and garlic, were all incredibly sweet and firm.
They maintained their abundance by bartering the crops they grew with nearby border regions or periodically delivering them to the capital.
It wasn’t just the north.
The Periat Empire was originally a fertile land protected by Bercheria, the goddess of weather.
But at some point, the protective aura evaporated, and only a harsh winter, making people tremble, descended.
People believed it to be the god's sabbatical year, a year that came once every hundred years.
But one year passed, and another, and the guardian of Bercheria did not return.
From then on, the north became an unpredictable land plagued by extreme temperatures.
Crops could not be grown, for fear of what weather would strike at any moment, and even animals, unable to withstand the volatile weather, left.
If Lacrahan had not moved his territory here a decade ago, everyone would have abandoned the north or starved to death there.
"Bercheria is not worthy of being called a god."
The thick book that had been gaping closed into a single volume.
"Even abandoned humans do not wait for God."
"Even abandoned humans do not wait for God."
Unwavering, pitch-black eyes stared clearly at Timothy. Ebony hair tangled above neat eyebrows, sharp eyes. His lips, seemingly infinitely soft, contrasted with his high nose. Timothy's Northern Grand Duke, though already twenty-seven years old, still looked like a boyish youth. Of course, his body told a different story. "...Do you really think so?"
"If she had any compassion for humans, she would have come before those children lost their parents."
Lacrahan turned his head and looked at the warehouses lined up below the window. Not long ago, he had brought orphans who had been wandering the village here. He had just heard a story of a child starving to death on the streets.
When the prolonged drought left food scarce, the vulnerable were the first to suffer. The people no longer had the will to care for abandoned children.
"God is gone, Timothy."
"Oh, yes. I know. It's been a long time, but I still have lingering regrets."
Timothy's expression turned bitter. As Lacrahan had said, this continent was no longer under God's care. The empire belonged to Emperor Gerard, and this northern region depended on Lacrahan for survival.
“Well, shall we now organize our schedule?”
The two sat face to face, discussing how to distribute the remaining food in the castle. Then, they looked up when they heard a commotion outside the window.
At the sound of the shrill screams, Lacrahan and Timothy simultaneously rushed to the window. A red flame was raging from the warehouse.
“Fire, is there a fire?”
Timothy looked at Lacrahan with a pale, astonished face. It had been over a month since the rain. The dry firewood and straw bales surrounding the warehouse walls made Lacrahan’s blood run cold.
“Your Highness!”
Lacrahan ran outside without a moment to think.
Clang.
The hem of his cloak knocked over the chair that had been tilted askew, and he disappeared like the wind.
***
“Oh, how did this happen?”
The castle workers couldn't even approach, only sighing in pity. That afternoon, the servants had piled firewood against the warehouse walls, following Lacrahan's instructions, to keep the children warm. These had become kindling, and the fire quickly engulfed the warehouse.
"Bring water, quickly! Water!"
"We don't even have drinking water, where are we supposed to get it?"
The women, at a loss for words, burst into tears as the children's terrified voices echoed from within the warehouse. Then, a large shadow appeared behind them.
"Your Highness!"
Lacrahan rushed over, and the shadow of a blazing fire loomed over his face.
"Bring water,"
He muttered through gritted teeth.
"Your Highness!"
"Whether it's drinking water or anything else, just bring it now!"
At Lacrahan's shout, the men who had been standing there in a daze rushed to a nearby rainwater collection point. A swift man brought a bucketful of water, and Lacrahan, without hesitation, took it and poured it over his head. He then dashed straight into the blazing warehouse.
"Ugh!"
A fierce heat instantly enveloped him. The moisture in his cloak sizzled and rose into steam. The heat was so intense that he couldn't even open his eyes.
"Tatiana! Mark!"
Lacrahan called out the names of the children he'd brought in during the day.
The heat was so intense that taking even a single step was difficult.
“Tatiana!”
A child’s cry came from somewhere.
Lacrahan’s heart pounded with unbearable force.
Ten years ago, he had stood in the midst of the Three Continents War.
There, where corpses piled like mountains and blood flowed like rivers, Lacrahan had resolved.
He would never let his people die again.
He would never again become such a helpless ruler.
“Mark!”
-Eeeeeep!
Lacrahan strode towards the source of the noise.
The hem of his cloak sizzled, and a painful heat spread across his skin.
Crack.
The log supporting the warehouse ceiling fell from above him.
One more step and he would have been crushed beneath it.
-Eeeep.
His gaze, fixed on the red-hot log, grew cold.
Lacrahan leaped over it and headed towards the source of the noise.
His heart pounded, blood pumping through his body.
The faces of the dozen or so children he'd brought here today flashed through his mind.
Could I take them all out at once?
Could I save them all?
If that wasn't possible, wouldn't it be better to watch them for the rest of their lives? The thick smoke obscured his vision, but he finally saw the children gathered together.
"Is everyone okay?"
The heat was so intense that taking even a single step was difficult.
“Tatiana!”
A child’s cry came from somewhere.
Lacrahan’s heart pounded with unbearable force.
Ten years ago, he had stood in the midst of the Three Continents War.
There, where corpses piled like mountains and blood flowed like rivers, Lacrahan had resolved.
He would never let his people die again.
He would never again become such a helpless ruler.
“Mark!”
-Eeeeeep!
Lacrahan strode towards the source of the noise.
The hem of his cloak sizzled, and a painful heat spread across his skin.
Crack.
The log supporting the warehouse ceiling fell from above him.
One more step and he would have been crushed beneath it.
-Eeeep.
His gaze, fixed on the red-hot log, grew cold.
Lacrahan leaped over it and headed towards the source of the noise.
His heart pounded, blood pumping through his body.
The faces of the dozen or so children he'd brought here today flashed through his mind.
Could I take them all out at once?
Could I save them all?
If that wasn't possible, wouldn't it be better to watch them for the rest of their lives? The thick smoke obscured his vision, but he finally saw the children gathered together.
"Is everyone okay?"
He hurried over, and the air felt a bit more pleasant than before. His vision cleared, and the sight he saw brought Lacrahan to a halt.
"..."
There was a strange woman. A woman he'd never seen before, embracing and protecting the children. All ten children looked unharmed. The youngest was crying in the arms of Tatiana, the eldest.
There was a strange woman. A woman he'd never seen before, embracing and protecting the children. All ten children looked unharmed. The youngest was crying in the arms of Tatiana, the eldest.
"Uu ..."
"Your Highness!"
Tatiana waved at Lacrahan, wiping the water running down her forehead. At her voice, the woman protecting the children slowly turned her head. Her delicate features were impassive, framed by her translucent white skin. When her gaze met with the golden eyes within their large, piercing eyes, Lacrahan was as if under a spell, unable to move.
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