Chapter : 38
“Traitor!”
“Don’t come near!”
“Go away!”
“Get out!”
Tiny, clamorous voices heckled Charmaine from every direction.
The piercing cries pelted her so harshly it made her freeze in bewilderment, scanning her surroundings.
All she saw were bright torches, freshly sprouted grass, scattered stones, and the altar.
No presence could be felt, and yet the voices kept echoing.
Charmaine turned her head, searching for the source of the sound.
Her body, reacting instinctively, shrank back in fear as though the voices were gnawing at her subconscious.
Still, she stepped closer to the altar.
The nearer she drew, the louder the voices swelled—driving her back, as if desperate to keep her away.
Her will wavered, her shoulders curling in, her feet heavy as lead.
Yet Charmaine forced herself forward until she reached the altar, extending her hand toward the tarnished brass chalice perched at the highest point.
Just as cherished memories from old relics had strengthened her before, she thought this chalice might help her now.
‘!’
‘…’
The instant her fingertips brushed the brass, the deafening noise vanished into silence—as though cut off by agreement.
At once, Charmaine was pulled into the memories sealed within the chalice.
“Lord Salid will be pleased when I bring this to him.”
A fairy with shimmering silver-blue hair and four delicate, iridescent wings—like those of a butterfly but glinting like mermaid scales—gazed happily at the tree’s abundant fruit.
This fairy was Charmaine Pepe.
Among all the fairies who served Salid, she had been the first to blossom from his fingertips.
The sweet, tangy scent of ripe apples tingled at her nose.
“No matter how much you bring him, he’ll only give them to humans.”
Another fairy grumbled. Her wings and build were the same, but her hair was brown instead. She was Tume, the tenth fairy to be born from Salid’s hair.
Together, they were tasked with gathering fruit for Salid to bestow upon humans.
“Lord Salid is the god of abundance,” Pepe said, clutching a bright red apple with care.
“But he’s never once given anything to us.”
“That’s because we serve him. And besides, we don’t need food.”
“But we know sweetness. What if Lord Salid actually hates us?”
At Tume’s words, Pepe startled, glancing around nervously.
“Don’t say such things. That’s blasphemy.”
“It’s the truth. I’m not going. Do it yourself.”
With that, Tume flopped down into the grass, eyes closed, ignoring Pepe’s pleas to help.
Pepe found her behavior strange. Fairies were born to serve Salid. That was their nature.
Never before had any fairy questioned his will.
So, Pepe tilted her head in confusion, gathered the fruit Tume had picked, and flew to Salid alone.
“Lord Salid, Lord Salid!”
Salid, golden hair cascading to his toes, greeted her with a gentle smile.
“Pepe.”
“Yes, my lord! I brought fruit. You’ll give it to the humans, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I knew it! So I picked the reddest, prettiest ones.”
Every piece of fruit Pepe set down went straight into human hands.
The next day, the same.
And the next.
Pepe worked tirelessly without rest.
“Where’s Tume? Where’s Sise?”
Pepe flitted about, wings buzzing, searching. But no matter how far she flew, she found no other fairies.
The festival season for humans was near, and the work was too much for her alone.
“Where’s Lati gone?”
Two hours of flying yielded no one. At last, she gave up and, until sundown, harvested fruit alone for Salid.
The next day, Tume appeared.
“Pepe.”
“Tume! Where were you? We needed to pick fruit yesterday!”
“Follow me.”
“Eh?”
Without explanation, Tume spread her wings and darted off. Pepe chased her until they reached the mouth of a cave.
Inside, every fairy had gathered.
“Why are you all here?”
Pepe folded her wings, puzzled.
One by one, the fairies turned their eyes on her.
“We’re not gathering fruit anymore.”
“We’re leaving the rice as it is.”
“The wheat too.”
“We’re not doing anything.”
Their voices overlapped like a chorus. Pepe gaped.
“What do you mean?”
Tume leaned in close, so near their noses almost touched.
“We’re not doing anything anymore.”
“But… the humans’ festival is soon. They’re counting on us.”
“So what?”
“Huh? What do you mean, so what?”
Pepe’s soft pink eyes quivered.
“So don’t do it either. Lord Salid doesn’t care about us anyway.”
“That’s not true.”
“He only favors humans.”
But Salid had never favored anyone. Not fairies, not humans. He gave each what they needed.
Humans, through Salid’s gift of abundance, tilled the soil, planted seeds, raised crops, and offered back the best of their harvest at his altar.
Fairies lived on Salid’s emotions and on the energy radiating from humans.
The stronger and happier humans became, the more eternal the fairies’ life.
Pepe loved those humans. She believed all fairies felt the same.
So why were they suddenly rebelling?
From that day, the others kept urging her to stop working too.
But when she refused, they left her behind.
Even alone, Pepe persevered. She worked twice, three times, ten times harder—so Salid would not be disappointed.
She searched for the others, tried to persuade them. They ignored her, mocked her, tormented her. Still, she didn’t give up.
Through rain, through storm, through snow—
She labored on, season after season, until her body finally broke.
In winter, harsher than any spring or summer or fall, she collapsed, bedridden for days.
When spring came, the others appeared at last—descending all at once to where Pepe lay weak.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, her patience gone.
“Come with us.”
“Join us.”
“We no longer follow Salid.”
“We are no different from gods. We can live as gods ourselves.”
“If you refuse to join, we’ll call you a traitor.”
“We’re going to destroy Salid.”
Their faces hardened with resolve.
Destroy him?
The thought was monstrous.
“No—you can’t! If you do, you’ll be punished!”
Pepe refused to follow.
And so, they left her behind—off to overthrow Salid and claim his place.
Pepe searched frantically, wings shredding, until one finally tore off. At last, she found him.
But Salid was already broken.
“…No! Lord Salid!”
His once-radiant golden eyes were blackened, his divine power and life drained.
The god had abandoned the land, leaving behind only an empty husk.
Pepe collapsed, sobbing without end for days.
Then the land itself began to die.
Crops withered.
Endless rain drowned villages.
Snow buried everything.
The fairies, who had dreamed of becoming gods, withered with the land.
Their immortality stripped away, they fell to incurable sickness.
All except Charmaine Pepe.
“Traitor.”
“You cursed us!”
“You knew this would happen and kept silent!”
“You only wanted to use a human name for yourself because of this!”
“You’re a traitor.”
“Our traitor.”
