Chapter 186: Miracles That Shouldn’t Happen (1)

Chapter 186: Miracles That Shouldn’t Happen (1)

Eventually, the rain stopped.

The bells that had been ringing in the city pierced through the rain, announcing the death of a young star.

I stomped forward, not even bothering to avoid the puddles on the ground.

Soon I was inside the small church where the bells had come from.

The air was even more somber and there was no light in the place, only a few candles burning here and there.

At the end of the hall was Zetto.

He was lying comfortably in a wooden coffin, redder than blood.

After today, the coffin containing the dead will be closed tightly. So this was the last time I would be able to see him.

I looked at Geppeti and Rei, who stood beside the coffin, dressed in all black.

“Aizel...”

I wondered if they had accepted this terrible reality but Geppeti was no longer crying and Rei avoided my gaze.

It was too much for her at such a young age.

“......”

I bowed weakly to them, offering my condolences, and then turned to face Zetto.

He was lying on a cool, jet-black coat, wearing the Academy’s uniform.

The pure white bandages that had always accompanied him were clutched in his right hand, resting alongside his sword at his side.

To the naked eye, Zetto appeared unharmed, except for the absence of his left arm.

At any moment, I felt like he would pull himself up and speak to me.

But...I knew better than anyone that such a miracle would not happen.

My hands tightened around the coffin.

This was the second time I’d seen it.

I searched and searched.

I wandered the world with the sole intention of saving Zetto but I couldn’t find it and no miracle happened.

There was no way to revive the dead so at that point, I gave up and I took the easier way out.

It was the first time I had ever chosen to regress when I wasn’t even facing death.

I turned back time for the sake of one insignificant person and destroyed everything people had built.

Selfishly, I deceived myself into thinking it was for Zetto’s sake.

That if I didn’t, I couldn’t move forward.

I didn’t think I could save him.

This is the result.

Zetto died again.

I made him suffer again.

How painful it must have been for him.

How tormented he must have been that I had saved his life and he had chosen to die.

I stroked his hair gently and I could feel the coldness of his forehead behind his hair through my black gloves.

It was cold and I could feel his pain.

I’m sorry, Zetto, I couldn’t have saved you.

I’m an incompetent regressor for making you go through this twice.

I’m so sorry.

There are no miracles.

Not for him, not for me.

Regression was never a miracle.

The happiness I had regained was replaced by more misery, the joy by more sorrow.

This is a curse on my soul.

Regression has always been a curse for me.

I thought of all the ways I could have saved Zetto, but they no longer made sense.

From the moment my worthless life was saved by Zetto...

...it was sealed.

My fate was sealed.

“......”

I chose to accept that fate.

His sacrifice would not be meaningless.

I will survive to the end, to the bitter end, no matter how desperate and miserable it may be.

So...

“...Rest in peace, Zetto.”

I bent down and kissed Zetto’s forehead.

Then I turned away.

“...You’re early.”

I saw Kaen, who had also come to mourn Zetto’s death.

He had made so many connections in his short life so many would come to see him.

Before, I had stormed out of the cathedral, unable to wait for his end.

I’d run, thinking there must be a way to save him.

This time was different.

There was no reason to, no point.Fiind updated novels at novelhall.com

“Zetto is waiting.”

With those words, I bowed weakly to Kaen and turned on my heel.

I sat down in a waiting pew in the center of the church, then I stared at Zetto in disbelief while waiting for everything to finish.

After a while a heartfelt song in his honor echoed in my ears. It was a wistful tune but the melody was filled with despair.

***

I looked down at Zetto.

“...I thought I was going to have a son-in-law.”

‘A son-in-law...?’

“You’re the worst son-in-law ever. How dare you make my daughter cry...”

There was no anger in his voice as he continued, but rather a hint of despondency.

“Next time, don’t be so fleeting...Make your woman happier.”

“......”

“May the Phoenix bless you...”

With those words, Jeras turned away.

Hakam’s mouth dropped open as he realized he’d just gotten a huge piece of information.

‘If it’s Yuri Clementine, she must be connected to the First Prince of the Kingdom of Terracia...?’

Of course, he’d known that it was more of a pressure from power, but this was the first time he’d heard that Jeras had tried to make Zetto his son-in-law.

The next person to appear after Yuri and Jeras was a nameless old man.

His face was not particularly informative, but Hakam’s ears were open enough to hear his voice.

“...What is it, are you sad too?”

The old man did not look at Zetto’s face in the coffin, but at his feet.

“Strange, you don’t even hate him...? Huh... I wonder what kind of trick he played on you... Now that there’s no life force left to eat, you’ll be free in a few days.”

Hearing this, Hakam couldn’t understand the old man’s words, so he shrugged it off, thinking, ‘He’s just a madman.’

After the madman, another shabbily dressed old man approached.

This time, however, the face was familiar.

Beneath the tattered robes, the old man’s face was one Hakam knew well.

No, he was a man he’d rather forget.

Hakam remembered his previous encounters with him.

The old man had approached the tower, holding onto a bird that was desperately trying to fly away, and asked innocently, “I’d like to write a letter to Julius Klaus.”

Hakam, who couldn’t even speak, felt his life was threatened at the time.

The old man suddenly sits down in front of Zetto’s coffin and speaks.

“...I told you to come to me until I was old and dead, but what if you died first...”

Hakam overheard the small talk between the dead and the old man and was horrified.

The old man’s identity was none other than Chris, the greatest swordsman on the continent.

‘He had a relationship with the Sword Saint...?’

Chris took a long swig from the bottle in his hand and said, “That’s too bad...it’s a shame...” and left.

Hakam thought that perhaps the cadet named Zetto who had died this time could not be categorized as a mere academy cadet.

Maybe he was a major player who wasn’t even on the Black Hand’s radar.

Next up was a man named Anthony.

A man who had been a fairly prominent merchant in the Holy Land, but who had been falsely accused and exiled, only to rise again and become a legend among merchants.

He came with his daughter and confronted Zetto.

“...Dad, why isn’t brother Zetto waking up?”

“Well...”

“Zetto... Wake up...”

“Emilia...”

“He’s just like mom...he’s asleep...People are crying... I hate this...”

“......”

The innocence of a child can sometimes be brutal for adults.

Hakam overheard and cut off the flow of mana to his ears.

‘Shit.’

It was a common sentiment among informants.

Hakam scratched his head.

He had a job to do, but this was not a good place to continue gathering information.

No blood, no tears, no nothing.

They should always strive to be thorough and accurate, and to keep their opinions to themselves but at the same time, you can’t give up being human, Hakam thought.

People’s negative emotions were filling the cathedral where the heartfelt song had been played.

‘Let’s call it a day.’

Blanc was here on personal business anyway, and with this much information, it would be assumed that he wasn’t working.

Besides, Zetto, the main source of this information, was already dead, so it might be worthless.

Hakam was about to turn away when the thought occurred to him.

Knock.

He bumped into someone.

It was a fairly large crowd for a small church, so it could have happened.

“...I’m sorry.”

Hakam quickly bowed his head and apologized but no one responded, so he raised his head.

“...”

Hakam’s eyes caught sight of the woman who had bumped into him.

“Ugh...”

After recognizing the woman’s face, Hakam had to stifle a gasp of surprise.

He tried not to let on that he’d figured out her identity.

The silver-haired woman wasn’t looking at him.

Her body was shaking, and she seemed to be lost in thought, but her eyes were fixed on the direction of the coffin.

The woman in front of him, clad in black robes, was comparable in reputation to the former Sword Saint.

‘The Saint...why...’

Bernice, the Saint of Innocence.

‘Here...?’

She walked into Zetto’s funeral in disguise.