Episode 77. The Beginning of a Knot (1)
A soft golden light emanated from Bercheria's body as she lay in bed.
From her wavy hair, from her pale skin, the golden light grew stronger, enveloping even Lacrahan in a single mass.
The moment he felt the warm light seep into his skin, Lacrahan suddenly felt his surroundings being sucked into pitch-black darkness.
"Adkins."
An unfamiliar voice shook him awake.
"Adkins!"
Lacrahan closed his eyes and tried not to wake.
Now was not the time to be disturbed by such useless things. He had to save Bercheria.
He couldn't allow himself to be swayed by personal dreams when he didn't know what would happen to her at any moment.
"Hey! Adkins, you punk!"
A thud!
A sudden slap to the cheek made Lacrahan open his eyes, dumbfounded.
He'd fought in countless battles on the battlefield, but never once had he been slapped. Even back in the Empire, no one dared slap the Grand Duke.
"It's your turn. Are you kidding me? You won once, and now you want to toy with me?"
Lacrahan stared intently at the woman sitting before him.
She wore flowing white clothes, her hair completely white, and her eyes were a shade of gray, closer to white.
As he stared blankly at this sight, she reached under the table and kicked his shin.
"Oh, really, what's wrong with you today? Hurry up!"
A chessboard lay before the woman who shouted.
Lacrahan glanced at the woman, then at the board, and moved the piece in front of him forward.
"Oh, my. That's an unexpected attack."
The woman hummed, choosing her pieces before sighing in boredom.
"But that woman."
Still fixated on the woman, Lacrahan asked,
“Who?”
The woman, resting her chin on her hand, spoke, repeating one of her words.
“Bercheria.”
Lacrahan raised his eyes to look at her.
“Bercheria?”
“Uh. That human woman.”
Lacrahan looked down at himself.
He was dressed entirely in black.
Similar flowing clothes to the woman’s, with long black hair that almost touched the floor.
Lacrahan realized that this was Adkins, the god, his memories.
“What was she?”
“Nothing. The fact that a human knew how to kill a god is problematic in itself, isn’t it?”
“Kill a god?”
“Should I just turn that woman into a god? Then she wouldn’t go around bragging about it, lest she risk her life, wouldn’t she?”
Bercheria looked at the men lying on the ground.
And Groovy, lying among them.
Still, she was so grateful that she had saved the child.
Carrying Groovy on her shoulder, she walked a few difficult steps.
I had to get out of here before the men woke up.
Yes, that was the last memory she had.
Why am I running through the forest now?
What are those clothes? Where am I? Was this also a memory of a previous Awakened?
No.
This was her memory.
The reflection in the puddle was none other than her own.
She was looking at the place where the knot began, long ago.
When she was Bercheria, and Murk Adkins was the first Adkins.
A soft golden light emanated from Bercheria's body as she lay in bed.
From her wavy hair, from her pale skin, the golden light grew stronger, enveloping even Lacrahan in a single mass.
The moment he felt the warm light seep into his skin, Lacrahan suddenly felt his surroundings being sucked into pitch-black darkness.
"Adkins."
An unfamiliar voice shook him awake.
"Adkins!"
Lacrahan closed his eyes and tried not to wake.
Now was not the time to be disturbed by such useless things. He had to save Bercheria.
He couldn't allow himself to be swayed by personal dreams when he didn't know what would happen to her at any moment.
"Hey! Adkins, you punk!"
A thud!
A sudden slap to the cheek made Lacrahan open his eyes, dumbfounded.
He'd fought in countless battles on the battlefield, but never once had he been slapped. Even back in the Empire, no one dared slap the Grand Duke.
"It's your turn. Are you kidding me? You won once, and now you want to toy with me?"
Lacrahan stared intently at the woman sitting before him.
She wore flowing white clothes, her hair completely white, and her eyes were a shade of gray, closer to white.
As he stared blankly at this sight, she reached under the table and kicked his shin.
"Oh, really, what's wrong with you today? Hurry up!"
A chessboard lay before the woman who shouted.
Lacrahan glanced at the woman, then at the board, and moved the piece in front of him forward.
"Oh, my. That's an unexpected attack."
The woman hummed, choosing her pieces before sighing in boredom.
"But that woman."
Still fixated on the woman, Lacrahan asked,
“Who?”
The woman, resting her chin on her hand, spoke, repeating one of her words.
“Bercheria.”
Lacrahan raised his eyes to look at her.
“Bercheria?”
“Uh. That human woman.”
Lacrahan looked down at himself.
He was dressed entirely in black.
Similar flowing clothes to the woman’s, with long black hair that almost touched the floor.
Lacrahan realized that this was Adkins, the god, his memories.
“What was she?”
“Nothing. The fact that a human knew how to kill a god is problematic in itself, isn’t it?”
“Kill a god?”
“Should I just turn that woman into a god? Then she wouldn’t go around bragging about it, lest she risk her life, wouldn’t she?”
***
Bercheria looked at the men lying on the ground.
And Groovy, lying among them.
Still, she was so grateful that she had saved the child.
Carrying Groovy on her shoulder, she walked a few difficult steps.
I had to get out of here before the men woke up.
Yes, that was the last memory she had.
Why am I running through the forest now?
What are those clothes? Where am I? Was this also a memory of a previous Awakened?
No.
This was her memory.
The reflection in the puddle was none other than her own.
She was looking at the place where the knot began, long ago.
When she was Bercheria, and Murk Adkins was the first Adkins.
***
“Huh? The rain is stopping.”
Murk looked up at the sky, holding the unfamiliar woman in his arms. The heavy rain that had been pouring down for days was now lightening.
“Looks like the weather is finally ending its sullenness.”
Murk mounted his horse, one hand on the reins. Despite carrying the woman, his movements were as light as a feather.
“Hurry up. The road is slippery.”
“Of course.”
Murk pulled the reins and led the way, and Elliot, the bodyguard right behind him, shouted, “Everyone, follow Your Grace!”
At the same time, dozens of horses darted across the forest path like bullets. Behind them, thick fog enveloped them.
***
Seen from inside, the woman looked exactly like a drenched mouse. That's what she looked like.
There was no other way to describe it.
Her hair and face were covered in mud, and her tattered clothes were torn and worn, making her look unsightly.
Fortunately, she came to her senses as soon as she arrived and was able to stand on her own, but her shivering body was so pitiful it was almost pathetic.
Drop, drop.
As raindrops dripped from the hems of his dirty robes, the maids who had been summoned by Murk frowned simultaneously.
“You should probably wash up first.”
He took off his cloak and brushed past the crowd.
The air changed, and his wet white shirt revealed itself to everyone.
The sight of his lean, muscular body, reaching down to his waist, made the maids, who had been frowning until then, flush their cheeks.
The cold, harsh nature of the northern region meant there were many men with exceptionally well-built bodies.
Among them—perhaps because he was a god—Murk stood out.
He was taller than the bear-sized men, but his muscles were neither dull nor wiry.
Despite his proficiency with a knife, no woman could fail to love Murk, who spent more days holding a book than they did.
“After bathing, take the guest to my bedroom.”
The maids who had stopped in their tracks all widened their eyes.
“To Your Grace’s bedroom?”
Murk asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no!”
The maids quickly lowered their heads.
“Understood, Your Grace.”
“I will, Your Grace.”
Murk turned his gaze away from them to the small woman standing there, clenching her fists.
Her head and face had been covered in mud since he’d first seen her, so he hadn’t yet been able to properly see what she looked like. Perhaps that was why Murk could usually guess what kind of person she was when he saw her, but this woman was completely out of his depth.
The only thing that surprised him was how small and thin the body he’d held was the fragility of it. The fragile, almost fragile feeling kept making him look back.
“I’ll know when I wash and come back.”
The moment he averted his gaze and turned away.
A small, creeping voice came from behind him.
“...I.”
Murk’s cool eyes drifted back to the woman.
He saw her eyelashes blinking, frustratingly slow, through her wet hair.
Even that was obscured by the dirty dirt.
When the woman remained silent, Murk felt tired.
The thick book he’d left in the study and the now-cold black tea were even more interesting.
“If you can’t think of anything to say, come back after your bath. I’m not the kind of person who has free time.”
Fortunately, she wasn’t oblivious, as the urgent voice, seemingly on the verge of dying, could be heard.
“Thank you, thank you for saving me.”
The woman stammered, gasping for breath as if she’d expended every ounce of her remaining strength.
“I-I wanted to say that.”
“...”
“That’s all.”
Bercheria lowered her head.
Indeed, she was truly exhausted.
Her stamina, already weakened by being confined in the confined space, had long since depleted.
With her head bowed, she counted jer breaths.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you say thank you.”
Bercheria lifted her face in surprise.
Dark, deep black eyes, like the night sky she’d once glimpsed, gazed down at her.
“Well, it wasn’t bad to hear.”
The man, after leaving a brief word, turned and went into the bathroom.
She stared blankly at the closed door, then tilted her head with a creak.
A strange sensation tickled beneath her skin, as if someone were gently tugging at the tip of her hair.
“Hey!”
Bercheria jumped like a startled rabbit at the sudden voice.
She caught her breath, then turned her head to look at the maid with buttonhole-sized eyes.
They were the same dark eyes she’d seen earlier.
But they didn’t feel the same depth.
“What’s your name?”
“...”
“What’s your name?”
Bercheria blinked rapidly and backed away, as if she’d heard something she shouldn’t have.
“Oh, it’s so frustrating! Do you want to die?”
The maid shouted, and her body froze reflexively.
Her mother's voice, always yelling and getting angry, rang in her head as if it had been waiting for me.
Berche! Berche! Bercheria-! She tightly closed her eyes and clenched her fists.
This is not home.
And the one in front of her is not her mother.
“Oh, don’t scream.”
“...What?”
The moment Bercheria’s two feet, which had been hesitating to step back, came together neatly, squealed.
Heavy rain suddenly poured down outside the window.
The maids surrounding Bercheria were startled by the sound and shouted in surprise at the same time.
“Oh my. It’s raining again!”
“The furniture will be a mess. Close the windows. Quickly!”
Her hair and face were covered in mud, and her tattered clothes were torn and worn, making her look unsightly.
Fortunately, she came to her senses as soon as she arrived and was able to stand on her own, but her shivering body was so pitiful it was almost pathetic.
Drop, drop.
As raindrops dripped from the hems of his dirty robes, the maids who had been summoned by Murk frowned simultaneously.
“You should probably wash up first.”
He took off his cloak and brushed past the crowd.
The air changed, and his wet white shirt revealed itself to everyone.
The sight of his lean, muscular body, reaching down to his waist, made the maids, who had been frowning until then, flush their cheeks.
The cold, harsh nature of the northern region meant there were many men with exceptionally well-built bodies.
Among them—perhaps because he was a god—Murk stood out.
He was taller than the bear-sized men, but his muscles were neither dull nor wiry.
Despite his proficiency with a knife, no woman could fail to love Murk, who spent more days holding a book than they did.
“After bathing, take the guest to my bedroom.”
The maids who had stopped in their tracks all widened their eyes.
“To Your Grace’s bedroom?”
Murk asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no!”
The maids quickly lowered their heads.
“Understood, Your Grace.”
“I will, Your Grace.”
Murk turned his gaze away from them to the small woman standing there, clenching her fists.
Her head and face had been covered in mud since he’d first seen her, so he hadn’t yet been able to properly see what she looked like. Perhaps that was why Murk could usually guess what kind of person she was when he saw her, but this woman was completely out of his depth.
The only thing that surprised him was how small and thin the body he’d held was the fragility of it. The fragile, almost fragile feeling kept making him look back.
“I’ll know when I wash and come back.”
The moment he averted his gaze and turned away.
A small, creeping voice came from behind him.
“...I.”
Murk’s cool eyes drifted back to the woman.
He saw her eyelashes blinking, frustratingly slow, through her wet hair.
Even that was obscured by the dirty dirt.
When the woman remained silent, Murk felt tired.
The thick book he’d left in the study and the now-cold black tea were even more interesting.
“If you can’t think of anything to say, come back after your bath. I’m not the kind of person who has free time.”
Fortunately, she wasn’t oblivious, as the urgent voice, seemingly on the verge of dying, could be heard.
“Thank you, thank you for saving me.”
The woman stammered, gasping for breath as if she’d expended every ounce of her remaining strength.
“I-I wanted to say that.”
“...”
“That’s all.”
Bercheria lowered her head.
Indeed, she was truly exhausted.
Her stamina, already weakened by being confined in the confined space, had long since depleted.
With her head bowed, she counted jer breaths.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you say thank you.”
Bercheria lifted her face in surprise.
Dark, deep black eyes, like the night sky she’d once glimpsed, gazed down at her.
“Well, it wasn’t bad to hear.”
The man, after leaving a brief word, turned and went into the bathroom.
She stared blankly at the closed door, then tilted her head with a creak.
A strange sensation tickled beneath her skin, as if someone were gently tugging at the tip of her hair.
“Hey!”
Bercheria jumped like a startled rabbit at the sudden voice.
She caught her breath, then turned her head to look at the maid with buttonhole-sized eyes.
They were the same dark eyes she’d seen earlier.
But they didn’t feel the same depth.
“What’s your name?”
“...”
“What’s your name?”
Bercheria blinked rapidly and backed away, as if she’d heard something she shouldn’t have.
“Oh, it’s so frustrating! Do you want to die?”
The maid shouted, and her body froze reflexively.
Her mother's voice, always yelling and getting angry, rang in her head as if it had been waiting for me.
Berche! Berche! Bercheria-! She tightly closed her eyes and clenched her fists.
This is not home.
And the one in front of her is not her mother.
“Oh, don’t scream.”
“...What?”
The moment Bercheria’s two feet, which had been hesitating to step back, came together neatly, squealed.
Heavy rain suddenly poured down outside the window.
The maids surrounding Bercheria were startled by the sound and shouted in surprise at the same time.
“Oh my. It’s raining again!”
“The furniture will be a mess. Close the windows. Quickly!”
All eyes that had been focused on Bercheria suddenly disappeared, and the surroundings began to erupt in commotion.
“Ha.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the dirt from her eyes with the back of her hand. Her sparkling eyes appeared, then quickly hid in the shadows created by her hair.
“I, I’m not getting, like, taken advantage of anymore.”
Meanwhile, the maids who had been tidying up the area were returning.
There were maids with their heads soaking wet, and others walking while squeezing the water from their clothes.
“You must be crazy. Why is it raining so hard all of a sudden? It’s like a flood.”
“Don’t say things like that, my dear. How could something like that happen with the new Master Murk here?”
“Oh my. My dear. No matter how great His Grace is, he can’t prevent a flood. Are you an idiot?”
One of the maids, who had been looking at her chattering colleagues with pitiful eyes, walked towards Bercheria, who was standing like a statue.
“Ha.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the dirt from her eyes with the back of her hand. Her sparkling eyes appeared, then quickly hid in the shadows created by her hair.
“I, I’m not getting, like, taken advantage of anymore.”
Meanwhile, the maids who had been tidying up the area were returning.
There were maids with their heads soaking wet, and others walking while squeezing the water from their clothes.
“You must be crazy. Why is it raining so hard all of a sudden? It’s like a flood.”
“Don’t say things like that, my dear. How could something like that happen with the new Master Murk here?”
“Oh my. My dear. No matter how great His Grace is, he can’t prevent a flood. Are you an idiot?”
One of the maids, who had been looking at her chattering colleagues with pitiful eyes, walked towards Bercheria, who was standing like a statue.
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