Chapter 19

But not a single one succeeded. Most ended up crawling away on all fours, sobbing, overwhelmed by Gart’s murderous aura. And that’s just the women. When someone, suspecting Gart’s preferences, put the most handsome man on the continent in his bed, the man fainted on the spot and had to be carried out by the servants—his eyes rolled back, drooling in disgrace.

Having lived far longer than others, Gart had met thousands of gods and thousands of monsters. Those superior to humans or other races, beings called “gods” because of their strength, were always mysterious and beautiful regardless of form. Beauty, in itself, had the power to captivate others. Even if one wore armor called the “Peerless Treasure,” they would inevitably fall to their knees.

One could not armor the soul. Beauty pierced the most vulnerable parts like a powerful weapon. Gart knew all too well what humans were willing to do under its spell. To him, beauty was no more than a simple weapon.

It didn’t work on him, but the fact that the other party wielded it was reason enough to be annoyed. That irritation likely explained why he was so averse to Mariax, even wanting to eliminate her. That, and the fact that she was a god of Heimdrix—her outer form was excessively beautiful.

Gart brushed aside the strands of hair stuck to the woman’s cheek with the back of his hand. The painful curse would always ease whenever he touched her. So too did the seething, condensed emotions deep within his soul. It was a calm he had never once felt in his entire life. 

What an astonishing…

Gart furrowed his brow and let out a twisted smile. His hand slowly left the woman’s cheek. His gaze, once fixed as though nailed in place, finally broke away from Mariax. The bathwater had already gone cold. A perfect temperature to wash off the lingering heat.

***

Knock, knock. The sound of someone knocking roused Mariax, her eyes fluttering open in a daze. Her body was stiff, and the fatigue still clung to her, making it hard to rise. The tension and rigidity she’d held over the past few days were only now catching up to her. With a man who exuded killing intent all day long, it was no wonder her body couldn’t handle it.

“…”

Her round eyes darted about. From the aura alone, it seemed like no one else was in the room, but she had to be cautious just in case. Slowly sitting up, Mariax looked around. Fortunately, Gart was nowhere to be seen. She let out a relieved sigh and ran her hand over her chest—only to catch on an unfamiliar texture. What was this? She was wearing clothes she had never seen before. The tunic hung so loosely it exposed one shoulder. The sleeves had been rolled up several times, making them bulky. The clothing was made for someone much larger than herself. The moment she realized that, Gart’s scent wafted off the fabric—a faint smokiness and a bitter, herbal smell.

Still dazed, Mariax absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of the tunic until her gaze fell to her thigh peeking out from beneath it. A bandage had been wrapped around the wound from yesterday. She froze in place, eyes wide. A deep sigh got caught in her chest, echoing inside her like a trapped bell.

She desperately hoped that she had wrapped the bandage herself and borrowed the clothes from Gart of her own volition. But her memory was cut off at sitting in the bathtub. She absentmindedly touched her neck—surprisingly, it was intact. That violent human hero, Gart, had spared her life. While that was certainly a relief, understanding the man named Gart had only become more difficult.

What sort of creature lives with thoughts like his?

Knock, knock.

The knocking broke her thoughts again. Carefully, Mariax opened the door. A man dressed entirely in black stood politely outside. Bits of his introduction surfaced in her memory. 

“I’m Oze, from the cave of the Black Underground God in Zimna’an”

“Good morning.”

It was a morning greeting, not from Ulri or Ba’en, but from someone else. The strangeness of it made Mariax pause before responding. She was about to nod belatedly but felt it wasn’t appropriate since the man had his eyes closed. She hesitated, unsure how to reply. In the meantime, Oze held something out to her—new clothes and shoes. As Mariax brushed her hand over the soft fabric, she stole a glance at his closed-eyed face.

“Good morning.”

It was a bit late, but she felt she had to return the greeting. Fortunately, it seemed to matter—Oze smiled warmly. Feeling a little lighter, Mariax got dressed and stepped out.

As she followed Oze, her attention and fingers kept returning to the white fur on her cloak. It felt a bit different from what she’d touched yesterday. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Oze.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know what kind of animal this fur is from?”

After briefly toying with the fur, he answered, “I think it’s rabbit fur.”

Thank goodness. It felt even softer than yesterday, reminding her more of Ulri and Ba’en.

“Fox fur is actually better, but in Olkiedpan, foxes are protected. Anir forbade hunting them. If caught, it’s an immediate execution.”

He sure liked summary executions, that one.

“Rabbits, wolves, martens, bears—even humans can be hunted in some cases. But foxes? Not even a single hair.”

He really did seem like a madman. Mariax’s guard went up another notch. If humans could be hunted but foxes couldn’t, what made foxes so special?

Come to think of it…

Even the fortress’ emblem had a fox on it. Was it related?

“Why?”

“Not sure. Maybe he just really likes foxes?”

Mariax tried to imagine Gart cherishing a fox, but she failed miserably. It just didn’t suit him at all. While lost in that absurd thought, they arrived at Three Thousandth’s room. Oze, apparently just a guide, waved and left.

“Welcome, Lady Mariax. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Peaceful…”

Mariax had to revisit the definition of the word peaceful. She’d been threatened into a contract by Gart, made a spectacle of before humans, almost devoured by a rampaging mutant mermaid queen, then treated and dressed by the human weapon Gart…

Her expression darkened.

Clearly, that expression said otherwise. But Three Thousandth didn’t seem the type to care deeply about others. 

“I’m glad you had a peaceful night.”

Or perhaps he simply found it bothersome to address.

One side of Three Thousandth’s room was filled with drawers of all sizes, and the opposite wall lined with shelves overflowing with books and papers. Unlike the dim interior of Gart’s room, Three Thousandth’s space was unusually bright. Mariax’s gaze turned to a large window. Sunlight poured in, resting gently on Three Thousandth’s shoulder. Right—he had forest spirit blood. He must have liked sunlight, just as Ulri and Ba’en liked snow.

After shuffling through books and papers for some time, Three Thousandth finally sat across from her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Now then, shall we begin?”

As his brown eyes met hers, a ticklish tension spread from her chest. The research was about to begin. She didn’t know exactly how it would proceed, but since it was an inquiry into the gods of Heimdrix, the weight of it felt extraordinary. Whether she could satisfy his curiosity about the gods of Heimdrix was not a trivial matter.

“How old are you?”

“…”

Mariax’s lips parted slightly, then closed. It was a question she could answer. “Over a hundred.”

“A hundred…”

Three Thousandth rolled his eyes upward, lips pursing thoughtfully. Then he looked at Mariax again, a doubtful glint in his gaze.

“To a great god, what meaning could time truly have? Could it be that more time has passed than you realize?” His tone suggested confidence that she was much older than a hundred.

“To be exact, 159.”

“…I see.”

Still seemingly dissatisfied, he pursed his lips, forming creases on his chin as he scribbled on a sheet of paper.

【Name: Mariax

Age: 159?】

The two fields felt oddly trivial. Mariax once again had to rethink the meaning of the word research.

“Could you tell me which god you were born from?”

Aside from naturally occurring spirits, all life forms had ancient gods, born from creator gods, as their ancestors. Today, the divine power was diluted into millions of fragments, but Heimdrix was an exception. Though they existed under the same sky, time did not flow the same for Heimdrix and the continent.

In other words, even a young god of 159 years could be a direct descendant of an ancient god. That was exactly what Three Thousandth wanted to find out. Mariax might not be special, but her parent god might be.

Meeting his gaze, Mariax awkwardly looked away. It was a difficult question.

“I don’t know. I have no memories of my childhood.”

Hm. That’s a lie. Three Thousandth, quick to catch on, nodded slowly. He could press her for the truth, but what mattered was not the truth itself—it was the fact that she had lied. Her parent god’s identity, or the reason she needed to hide it—some unique quality of the god named Mariax must lie there.

Scratch, scratch. Three Thousandth’s pen moved again.

【Parentage: Unknown】