Chapter 35: The Old Man in the Clearing

That much they could see with their own eyes. The domain was filled only with tasteless old people.

“At first, we thought it was a monster. After all, people kept vanishing. But surely monsters don’t choose what kind of humans to eat…”

At that, Lema glanced at Bel.
It was as if the phrase “choosing what kind of humans to eat” had struck a nerve.

In any case, the situation in the domain was like this:
At first, they assumed it was another case of the poisonous mushrooms that sometimes plagued the land. But it was neither wild beasts nor monsters. And since only the elderly were spared from sleep, it couldn’t be dismissed as an accident or a disease.

So they had tried to appeal for help from Lucilonia.
It was clear that only the apostles of the Holy Empire could resolve such a matter.

“On our own… sending only the elderly wouldn’t work to carry back those who fell asleep. And we couldn’t keep sending expeditions into the forest.”

One by one, their able-bodied men had dwindled. First the knights, then the sturdy commoners conscripted afterward—until Mirgas’s public order collapsed entirely.
The women knights who remained were those who had never received recognition while overshadowed by the men.

Listening, Lema recalled the knight-captain, Kibyr.
“For all that, they weren’t lacking in skill. Perhaps this was even an opportunity for them.”
“Well… yes, in a way.”

So that explained why only women knights were left in the domain, and why strangers were met with such excessive suspicion.

They pressed deeper into the woods.
Though it was still bright daylight, the canopy was so dense that the forest seemed cloaked in shadow.

Even with ten or so people traveling together, not a bird sang. The silence was oppressive.
It was not the sort of atmosphere that invited idle chatter. As they walked in silence, it was Lema who finally spoke.

“Do we actually know the precise location? It doesn’t look like ground the elderly would tread often. We may need a guide.”
“You’re right, my lord. But we don’t need a guide.”

Beata scanned the ground, then quickly stooped to pick something up.
“You’ll recognize this.”
“What’s that?”

Lema asked, and Beata answered:
“The closer we get to the place where people fall asleep, the more of these appear. They’re not things that naturally exist—they’re just common stones or leaves, altered like this.”

It was the same object Bel had examined before—a stone with two carved letters glowing faintly blue. No natural rock could emit such light.
And indeed, as they looked around, more and more could be found scattered across the ground and clinging to trees.
The deeper into the forest they went, the more numerous they became.

“Master, is this perhaps a relic of Pranagenis? You said you knew of it.”
“Yes.”

Lema and Beata exchanged a look, then turned back toward Bel.
She had never directly said so, but it seemed true that Bel had existed since the days when the ancient Pranagenis civilization still stood.

“Then do you know what these mean?”
“Restoration coordinates.”
“…You mean, they indicate a location?”
“Mm.”

That brief explanation was all.
But the conversation ended there—not because they had said all there was to say, but because now the sleepers came into view.

A clearing opened in the heart of the forest, as though the trees had been deliberately cut down and the undergrowth cleared away. Stones, boulders, and leaves all bore glowing letters, illuminating the space as if it were meant to be seen at night.

“Gods… what is this…”
“Unnerving…”

The knights trailing behind could not help murmuring.
The clearing was filled with people lying flat on their backs, eyes closed as if in peaceful slumber.

It looked like the aftermath of a great calamity, the dead laid out in rows.
But unlike the others, Bel merely glanced about with indifference.

As expected.
The sight stirred old memories in her.

“These are… not corpses.”
Lema hurried to the nearest sleeper and checked.
“They truly only seem to be sleeping. Their temperature is a bit low, but they breathe slowly and evenly.”

Bel peered down lazily.
Beata asked cautiously:
“Can you wake them?”
“Yes. But not here.”
“T-then… should we carry some back to the manor? It would be easier to examine them there.”
“…”

Bel didn’t answer.
The sun was already sinking. The glow of dusk cast shadows across her blank face, making the air feel chill.

Unwilling to linger in that place, they followed Beata’s orders and each hoisted one sleeper onto their backs.

Lema approached Bel quietly and whispered:
“You can wake them… Then do you also know what caused this?”
“Yes.”
“You said we might meet an I-know-what. Was that here?”

Bel didn’t reply. Instead, she looked at Beata Mirgas.
And as Lema followed his master’s gaze, his eyes too fell on her.

Beata’s gaze met theirs. Startled, she flinched and turned her eyes away.

So she’s the cause.
Before meeting Bel, Beata Mirgas had been unable to even hold herself upright.
But afterward, she had suddenly run about, laughed until she retched, and then cried, overwhelmed.
It wasn’t hard to guess why.

Now that she knew the cause, the solution was simple.
But to end the phenomenon entirely, she would need to destroy it at its root—something that was not yet visible.

As Bel brooded in silence, the knights whispered nervously.
“…Isn’t this a bit exaggerated?”
“They say she killed an entire bandit horde.”
“…What? That’s absurd. I saw no such signs. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Their voices were hushed, yet loud enough for Bel’s ears to catch every word.
“If anything, it was that male knight. At least that I could believe.”

The speaker was one of the knights who had been collapsed near Beata’s carriage. He had been treated alongside her, but unconscious the entire time Bel massacred the bandits. No wonder he doubted.

“But my back feels strange… It’s like it healed overnight.”
“How could that be? Injuries don’t just vanish.”
“Maybe the shock from the accident knocked my spine into place?”
“…Do you hear yourself?”
“And you think your theory makes sense?”

The knights bickered quietly, grasping at idle talk to smother the fear hanging over the clearing.

So he had a bad back… Annoying. Better make sure he never finds out I healed it.

“Um… Lady Belmias.”
“Hm?”

Beata had drawn closer.
“You said you grant wishes, didn’t you? Does that mean any wish, without restriction?”
“Yes. But a sacrifice is required.”
“…A sacrifice.”

Her eyes swept over the clearing. Indeed, the sleepers looked like offerings laid upon an altar.
If they were sacrifices, it would be the most merciful form of death imaginable—painless, peaceful, in their sleep.

Darkness had thickened. The atmosphere grew colder still.
“Then… did you already grant my wish?”
“…”
“I know there’s no way my body should have recovered. Even the apostles could not have done it. Did you… fulfill my wish that way?”

Bel stared at her. She lowered her eyes.
“You never wished to me. And that wasn’t the wish you would have made anyway.”
“T-that’s… true.”

Beata bit her lip several times before speaking again, her voice trembling.
“…You’re right. I never wished to be healed.”

She spoke as though confessing in a church.
Humans of this age did not separate divinity cleanly. In her heart, she seemed to believe that the same transcendent being who had worked her miracle also brought this calamity. That was why she confessed now.

“T-then, if I say now that I wish to cancel it… would you undo it?”
“…It’s here.”
“…What?”

Bel didn’t answer. Her gaze fixed on a point ahead.

There stood an old man—one they had never seen before.
And in that moment, the hushed chatter of the knights fell silent.