To set up a stone barriers to such an extent that it would nauseate the onlookers, the person who created them must have been overwhelmed by something as well.
I thought that if this would stop me from seeing the god of the underworld, I would do the same.
Creating barriers requires magic power, and the more you create, the more it’s life-threatening, so having good physical strength is needed.
But seeing so many barriers like that, I could understand just how desperate the situation must have been.
“Miss Mary…?”
Holding the cookie in my hand, I remained silent, which seemed to worry Jenny.
I quickly smiled at Jenny. It seemed to put her at ease, as she focused on the bread she was eating once again. The crumbs in her mouth were adorable.
“But how did you know that the saint and I resembled each other?”
In response to my question, Jenny blinked her large eyes. Then, without giving me a chance to interject, she wiped her hands on her apron.
If she had told me, I would have given her a handkerchief. As I was about to get up, Jenny took something out of her pocket. It was a neatly folded piece of paper.
“It’s like a charm that the people in our village carry around.”
“Can you show it to me?”
A charm, huh? It seemed like a precious item that she carried with care, so I hesitated to touch it unnecessarily.
What if I touch it and get bad luck? Jenny tilted her head as if she had heard the dumbest question in the world, then nodded confidently.
And she unfolded the paper and showed it to me.
Although I had refused once, deep down I wanted to see it, so I pretended to give in and accepted the paper charm.
The paper had a picture of a woman drawn on it. I could tell that the woman in this painting was the saint Jenny was talking about.
She was truly beautiful. Even more so than the portrait of the princess that Lausanne received in the past. No, it wasn’t just because she resembled me, but because she was genuinely a stunning woman.
So, I resemble this woman? Well, of course, Mary Conler objectively has a cute and lovely appearance, but…
‘Oh, I’m evaluating myself from a third person point of view again.’
I couldn’t help but taste the bitterness in my mouth at the habit of evaluating Mary Conler objectively.
“Why are you acting like that?”
“Huh?”
“Your expression keeps changing…”
I chose to put on an awkward smile once more, not wanting the young child to see an unpleasant sight. I handed the picture back to Jenny.
She folded it back neatly, just like when she took it out for the first time, and put it in her pocket, tapping it a couple of times.
Just by observing her actions, I could tell how precious that picture was to Jenny.
So, everyone in the village carries this picture like a charm… for some reason, it made my cheeks burn.
“She’s beautiful…”
I muttered to myself. Jenny’s eyes sparkled when she heard it.
“Of course, she’s beautiful on the outside, but her inner beauty is even more remarkable. She received abundant love from the gods.”
“I see.”
“But the problem is that she even received the love of the god of death…”
The god of death?
There was something odd about that familiar name. It made me feel strange, as if my head was throbbing. My chest felt tight.
Is there a cookie on it. I forced myself to concentrate on Jenny’s words, pressing between my index finger and thumb.
“The reason this village was created was to escape the god of death.”
“…To escape the god of death?”
“Yes. But my older siblings scared me so much that I couldn’t hear it properly. They said ‘someone similar to Jenny will take Jenny away’.”
“That’s really frightening.”
As I sympathized, Jenny trembled. Her trembling was cute, and although I smiled, the feeling of frustration didn’t dissipate.
‘Yusa’ seemed to be in line with the ghost stories circulating in this village.
“Has anyone in the village become a victim?”
“Well, our ancestors did. It was a long, long time ago. They said that the Saint rescued people who almost became a victim of the god of death and brought them here.”
“She must be a truly kind person.”
Perhaps Jenny heard the legend of this village like a bedtime story. Her exaggerated tone conveyed that impression.
When I was young, I probably didn’t take it too seriously, just like I would with a ghost story.
As this legend passed through people’s mouths, it must have become distorted, altered, and embellished. But why did my chest feel tight as I listened to this story?
“But the god of death…….”
Whether Jenny knew my feelings or not, she approached me with a serious expression.
When I slightly lowered my upper body for Jenny, she whispered softly as if sharing a secret.
“He loved the saint so much that he became obsessed with her.”
The adult who told Jenny this story must have emphasized this part.
Jenny made an effort to imitate them as best as she could, and it was unexpectedly adorable. I lightly stroked her little chin, but at that moment, a piercing headache struck me.
“Ah!”
“Are you all right, Miss Mary?”
My groan seemed to startle Jenny, and she hesitantly placed her hand on my knee, looking at me with concern. I held Jenny’s little hand tightly.
“Sorry, I suddenly got a headache.”
“Should I get you some medicine?”
“No, I’ll be fine if I rest for a bit. I’m sorry. Will you come again next time? I had a great time today.”
Jenny, who was looking at me with worried eyes, went back, and I looked at the books on the shelf.
There might be more about the god of death. Or the saint that the god of death loved…
I had an indescribable premonition. No, this wasn’t just a premonition. Why did I go around in circles for such a simple fact?
The God of Death loved the saint. The God of the Underworld wanted me to become the saint of the Underworld.
He… had loved me for a very long time.
But did he really love me?
***
Arsene knew that Mary always acted cheerfully as if she was fine, but she cried every night due to longing for her family.
Occasionally, she had nightmares. The nightmares she had so far were the God of Death playing tricks on her.
However, this place was not a place where the God of Death could have an influence. The nightmares Mary had here might be the manifestation of the trauma deep within her heart.
Although he said she could bring anything she wanted from her home before coming here, the naive Mary Conler didn’t bring anything from her house.
Arsene sighed, wishing he had obtained more information.
Nevertheless, it made Arsene happy to have Mary in this village.
The village that she had created, devoting everything until the very end. He wanted to show it to her someday. Those whom she wanted to protect had missed her for so long.
Arsene was always there to bring her the things she wanted to eat. Mary, with her innocent voice, seemed to express her desire to alleviate her longing.
After having a human figure like this, he didn’t want to go back to being a dog as much as possible, but Mary, who seemed to be drunk on longing every night and out of her mind, seemed to be more comforted by the dog’s appearance.
“I’m back, Mary. I brought the bread you wanted.”
As Arsene entered the house, she saw Mary sitting blankly in a chair. It was a sight he had always seen, but today it seemed a bit different.
She seemed absent-minded. Did something happen? Arsene suddenly became worried, as Mary was always lively until bedtime.
“What’s the matter?”
Arsene gently stroked Mary’s head. Mary twitched like a loose marionette string.
It seemed like a squeaking sound could be heard as she turned her head.
“Am I…the saint?”
The time has come. Arsene let out a sigh that sounded like a laugh. What should he say? He ran his hand through her his roughly.
“Am I the saint who created this village?”
Arsene hesitated for a moment, and then Mary raised herself up and asked in a firm voice.
However, Arsene stood as if she had become a rock, unable to confirm or deny it.
“Then the god of death must be the god of the underworld.”
The God of Death gathered his power to become the God of the Underworld, so that Mary could be incorporated into the world where he existed. It was even more effective than an ancient and forgotten name.
“Then it’s not me that he wants.”
What was Mary thinking as she sat in this chair that led her to this result? The corner of Arsene’s eyes began to twitch.
‘She asked if she was the saint… How did she know?’
“So, he wants to bring her back through me.”
To become a sacrifice similar to her.
