CHAPTER 50……………………………………….
The surroundings changed. It was a different place from where we had been.
It wasn’t barren land. Around us looked like a forest.
Between the thick trees ran a narrow side path. It was so detailed it was hard to distinguish from reality.
“It seems we’ve entered the flower’s memory.”
“Yes, I think so too.”
He looked at me, frowned slightly, and brushed his hair back.
“Saintess. Why did you follow me into something so dangerous?”
“Then were you planning to come alone into something dangerous, Your Grace?”
My emotions surged and my voice rose without me realizing it. Kardin stared at me before speaking.
“I told you because I thought we’d be back quickly.”
“…It might not be quick. This place could really be dangerous.”
For some reason, he couldn’t hide his flustered expression. Wondering if I was crying, I touched the corner of my eyes and found them wet with tears.
Avoiding his face, I spoke.
“I think we should look around first.”
“Agreed.”
No matter what, we had to get out of here. Kardin and I walked along the narrow path.
The space was so elaborate it could be mistaken for reality.
The forest, filled only with shade and no sunlight, felt cold. The damp energy made me frown unconsciously.
At the end of the path, beneath a ceiling of greenery, we saw a withering flower.
The owner of this space.
Just then, a fairly young man’s voice sounded nearby.
[There was a flower in a place like this.]
Kardin and I immediately turned toward the man behind us. He had golden hair.
“…Dave.”
“Seems you’re calling me Dave because of my hair color.”
He had the same hair color as Kardin. The man called Dave walked past us toward the flower.
His face was covered in wounds.
Dave set down the water buckets he was holding in both hands and sat beside the flower.
He let out a deep sigh and looked down at it.
[You’ve withered too.]
He gazed at the fading gray flower with pity.
As if it resembled himself.
[Will this help you live?]
He slowly sprinkled the water he had brought over the flower like a gentle rain.
As if being here alone let him breathe, he tilted his head back and looked up.
[How long have you been here?]
The flower did not answer.
Dave continued the conversation by himself. He even seemed used to it.
He said he’d been beaten by his drunken father. Even so, he smiled — a very lonely smile.
[I should get going. I’ll come again tomorrow to water you. Hang in there.]
He dusted off his pants, stood, picked up the buckets again, and walked back down the path.
As if this weren’t reality, a day passed quickly.
The next day, Dave returned as promised with a watering can and watered the flower again.
He continued one-sided conversations beside it, and when darkness fell, he left through the path again.
The days repeated.
“It feels like all the time here is aligned to that man,” Kardin said.
“Maybe because the flower is trapped in this memory. I guess we have to see its memories to get out.”
“It seems this is what the flower wanted.”
We tried to leave together, but there was no exit.
No matter where we went, it led back here.
We couldn’t cut through the space, and even holy power didn’t work.
Maybe, just as Kardin said, the flower trapped us to make us experience its emotions exactly as it did.
Then we heard footsteps behind us.
Time had moved quickly — Dave was no longer a child.
[So you were a blue flower.]
The faded flower was gradually regaining its original color.
[You’re beautiful.]
The flower swayed in the breeze. As if he’d heard a reply, the man gave a faint smile.
[It’s like you’re glowing.]
He gently stroked the petals.
[I like your light.]
Kardin and I looked at each other. It was the same thing the flower had said before we entered.
Originally, it must have shone in the sunlight.
Perhaps because he cared for it every day, the flower was now in full bloom.
Sunlight filtered through a narrow gap in the leafy ceiling, making the blue flower sparkle.
It seemed the flower had drained people’s vitality to produce that light when he praised it — even though that light could never truly be the same.
The weather here was always clear, like the flower’s feelings as it waited for the man.
Its emotions could be felt by both Kardin and me.
[Maybe you’re a flower of God. You’re that beautiful.]
Whenever it received affection, the flower shone brighter. I could even feel its fluttering excitement.
But on days the man didn’t come, no sunlight fell here — only shadow remained.
The man who used to come daily began coming every other day, then sometimes not for several days. Without sunlight or water, the flower slowly began to droop.
The shadow-covered space was lonely.
[Oh no. I’m late.]
One night, the man arrived, staggering, and sat beside the flower.
He wasn’t holding a watering can. Even so, the flower absorbed the moonlight at his presence.
[Flower of God. My lover seems very angry. She doesn’t like this village.]
He lowered his head with a sigh.
Now we knew why he hadn’t been coming lately.
[I think I’ll be leaving this place with her.]
[She doesn’t like that I come to this forest. I won’t be able to visit often, but I won’t forget you.]
Since childhood, this place had been where he could breathe.
He poured his affection into the flower he had cared for.
After finding a fiancée he promised to marry, he only visited occasionally. Even when he forgot the water, he always spoke kind words to it.
[If I leave here, I want to transplant you into a pretty pot and take you with me.]
[She’ll like you too.]
The flower gradually withered, but it seemed happy just that he came, casting moonlight to brighten its dull petals.
But the intervals between his visits grew longer — and at some point, he stopped coming entirely.
The flower completely withered.
Now, no light existed in this space.
The wind was cold and empty. Its longing for the man deepened, and the bleak air reached even us.
It felt like a completely different place.
The dark emotions grew in size and stole the vitality around them. Each time that happened, the withered flower briefly regained life.
But only briefly. The once-lush trees disappeared, and the ground became increasingly barren.
With no more vitality to take, the flower’s emotions surged violently.
Now those emotions could be heard as a voice.
[Dave forgot me.]
[Dave isn’t coming.]
[He said he would take me.]
[I don’t want him to see me like this when he comes.]
The heavier the emotions became, the more crushed we felt beneath them — as if it was trying to assimilate us into its feelings.
[Without you, I cannot shine.]
The surroundings kept changing with its emotions, gradually shifting toward the landscape we recognized.
The flower drew in the power of monsters.
[Monsters aren’t enough.]
[If he sees me withered, he won’t like me. He won’t take me with him.]
Feeding on monster blood, the flower grew more cunning.
[I am a flower of God. Come to me.]
[I am a flower of God. Come to me.]
It sounded like it was calling people — to steal their vitality and shine.
An emotion driven purely by instinct.
Kardin stroked his chin and stared directly at the flower as it spoke its cunning words.
“If the one called Dave waters the flower, could the memory here change?”
“…What?”
“I’m wondering if the memory here can be altered.”
Just then, the space began to distort. Kardin pulled me into his arms.
When I opened my eyes after reflexively squeezing them shut, a path had formed before us — as if inviting us to walk forward.
