A Lie – Part 06
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Translator: Kell
“Mercenary,” the priest suddenly called.
I turned around to see him looking straight at me, a somber aura about him.
“You’re not going to ask?” he said.
“About what?”
“About the favor you asked of me.”
“Oh, that.”
It wasn’t that I forgot. I just didn’t want to talk about it unless he brought it up.
When I learned that the priest was flying south, I asked him to check on my village and how my parents were doing. But I thought perhaps he did not have time to check. Or maybe what he learned was not something he could tell me proudly.
“Are they dead?” I asked. There was always that possibility.
Realizing that the topic had turned grim, Gemma said, “I don’t think I should be listening to this.” She quickly covered her ears. I didn’t really mind if she listened.
Gouda and Lily’s expression stiffened, probably because they knew the answer to my question.
Looks like bad news. I wrapped a cloth around my heart to protect it. So it would not hurt if the priest told me they were dead. I told myself over and over again that it was obvious they were gone.
The priest was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “They’re alive. In very good health, even.”
I thrust my chin forward. “If they’re alive, then why do you look so grim?”
“Because it’s far more cruel than them being dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were mad at you. They said you should never come back.”
“I see. Understandable.” I chuckled, feeling nostalgic as I imagined my feisty mother and stern father getting furious, veins popping out of their heads.
“They were glad you left the village. That’s a symbol of depravity for you, all right. Not even your own parents like you. I suggested they take refuge in Wenias, but from the looks of things, I think they’re staying. Well, it’s a dying village. It will most likely perish sooner or later.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Thanks.”
It was always at the back of my mind. Imagining my parents being sad because I left the village made me depressed. I was worried that bandits might attack them again. Many times I wanted to return to the village, but I didn’t have the courage to do so.
They were alive. They said I should never come back. They were glad I was gone. A huge relief for me.
I got out of the carriage, took the potatoes out of my pack and started peeling them. My specialty was a simple, not-too-fancy potato soup, the first dish I had learned to make.
My father taught me how to make this dish, and my mother praised it, saying, “Not bad at all.” They said I would take over the inn. They said they were proud of me. They didn’t care if I was a Beastfallen.
“You suck at lying,” I said. “You have to do better than that to fool me.” I could not even pretend to be fooled.
I stopped peeling the potatoes and looked up at the sky for no reason. It was what people did when they were trying to hold back tears. Even though I could not shed a single tear, I still wanted to look up.
The priest got out of the carriage. He must have heard what I said. “An upsetting remark for someone whose job is to lie.”
“But you were lying.”
“I will admit that it’s hard to destroy a relationship of trust with a hastily-prepared lie. You had good reason not to believe my lies. You can imagine how your parents would react if you returned to your village. Almost as if you were very close.”
He was right. I could see it clearly. Even after thirteen years—we had spent more time apart—I knew exactly how my parents would be furious and how they would disown me.
“If my parents really despised me, they would have said, ‘Who’s that guy? I don’t know him.’ No matter what, my father never spoke ill of others. Neither did my mother. She would say things like, ‘It doesn’t matter’ and ‘It’s not worth worrying about’.”
Getting angry would not change people. The best thing you could do was to forget about the people who hate you and live your life smiling. It’s what my parents told me over and over again, back when I was still a small, cowardly kid, who would get depressed when others called me a brute.
“Do you want the truth?” Shelving his poorly-crafted lie, the priest forced me to make a choice.
Believe the lie and live a carefree life, or learn the truth he was hiding.
“Yes.” I demanded the truth.
“An epidemic took out half the village,” he said. “Your parents survived, but it’s a small village. If the population decreased, the village itself would not survive. Many people left, but your parents chose to remain. They believed that you would come back.”
“But I never did.”
“Apparently.”
“I buried their bodies. Your father died first, and your mother passed away later at her desk, writing in her diary. Here.” He handed me a crumbling piece of paper. “It’s the last page of her diary. You can read, right?”
“Yeah. My mother taught me. Though I left the village while I was still learning, so I can’t read that well.”
I tried to open the folded paper, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to know what was written on it. No. I wanted to know, but I was too afraid.
“Have you read it?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s why I brought it with me.”
“Do you remember what’s written on it?”
“You’re such a coward.” He heaved a sigh.
I couldn’t say anything back. I was painfully aware that I was a coward.
“I wanted to tell you in person, but you’re taking too long to come home. My time is running out, so I’ll just write it down here. Welcome home, our stupid son.”
I let out a howl, a cry that I could not suppress. I felt an irresistible urge to return to the village. I wanted to tell my parents “I’m home.”
Why didn’t I return? What was I afraid of? Why did I doubt them? I was so afraid of being rejected by my parents, by everyone in the village, that I told myself that no one would be waiting for me anyway.
They were waiting for me. They loved me. But I kept running away to protect myself.
“Big Brother.” Lily was at my side, tugging on my sleeve, and I finally stopped screaming. “Y-You told me before… that you ran away because you felt guilty… but you wished you hadn’t… Because of you… I was able to return to my mom and dad… I, uhh…”
She didn’t seem to know what she was saying. And neither did I. But I got her sentiment a little. I gave her a pat on the head. A grown man being consoled by a kid was nothing short of pathetic.
“Your parents were very strong and honorable people,” the priest said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Their son, a Beastfallen, ran away from home, but they waited for you to return until the very end. They continued to love you as their son. Not once did they resent you for it.”
“A sermon? How industrious of you,” I hissed, then let out a sigh. “Go on. I think your fake-ass sermon might even strike a chord in me right now.”
It didn’t matter what the topic was. I just wanted to have a conversation with someone. I had never felt so reassured by Lily’s and the priest’s presence.
“To be honest, I envy you,” the priest continued. “My parents didn’t like my eyes, so they abandoned me in the woods.”
“Yeah? Well, I envy you.”
“What?”
“At least you don’t have to feel sad when your parents die. You don’t have to keep questioning the parents who loved you and make them wait in vain until they die. Am I wrong?”
The priest gave his usual laugh. “There are as many hardships as there are people. If you want to wallow in self-pity, I won’t stand in your way. I’m not nice enough to join you.”
“But you’re a priest.”
“I’m Dea Ignis. The mercy I have is only slightly less than the minimum.”
“I’ll listen!” Lily exclaimed, pulling on my arm. “When I’m sad, I say I’m sad. And then I ask for someone to comfort me. My mom said that if I don’t, I’ll die from the pain in my heart.”
“Can you give me a hug, then?”
“Sure! I’ll hug you tight!” Lily held out her small hands towardy me.
I was only joking, but apparently she was serious about comforting me. But the priest would not allow it. He smacked me on the head with his staff, grabbed Lily by the collar, and yanked her off me.
“If you can afford to say something stupid, you don’t need comforting. Just get on with preparing your meal. Have Zero comfort you instead when she returns.”
Gemma awkwardly slipped out of the carriage. “C-Can I leave now? I can call Lady Zero if you want.”
Not you too. Why are you all acting like I can’t live without her anyway?
Keeping the thought to myself, I let out a sigh and wordlessly grabbed the pot. “If you’re not too busy, could you please go find some clean snow and put it in this pot, Captain? If you call the witch back when the food’s not even ready yet, she’ll keep yapping endlessly.” I tossed the pot to Gemma.
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