Chapter 3
Since that day, Prim was cursed: wherever she stepped, thorns would sprout and pierce her feet. Anything that touched her soles caused thorns to emerge, wounding her, and she could not even wear shoes.
By midnight, the wounds would heal as if washed away, but because of this, she never developed even a single callus. The thorns always inflicted pain, piercing the soft, new flesh of her feet.
And because Prim had taken the curse instead of Rogien, he carried her everywhere. In the previous life, until his last breath.
“Ugh!”
Prim rose from her spot, groaning from the pain of the thorns beneath her feet, but closed her eyes to focus on her sense of smell.
A gentle breeze blew.
Dusty earth, the scent of ancient marble, and then, faintly, another fragrance from a distance.
Pale lavender heather bathed in sunlight, the bitter-sweet smell of small wild rose buds, the soft, faint musk of musk mallow blossoming in pink, the earthy scent of thistles, and lily of the valley blooming cool and clean in the shade.
Prim opened her eyes again and sought out the fragrance she had known. From the heather bushes blooming haphazardly, she broke off the branch with the sweetest scent.
Breaking the wild rose branches with her bare hands hurt, but there was no time to find scissors.
“Going back and forth is even harder.”
She gazed at the garden path, marked with her red footprints, and shut her eyes tightly.
She had removed the largest thorns before breaking the stems, but her hands were still pricked by small ones. Yet she silently continued surveying her surroundings.
Collecting a few musk mallow stems and thistles together, she arranged a reasonably good bouquet.
Finally, in front of the cluster of lily of the valley growing under a large tree, Prim hesitated for a moment.
These flowers had been abundantly added to the fragrance she had intended to die creating—so much that Barin called her a “little lily of the valley”—and it made her heart flutter slightly.
“Still, I have to do it.”
But she could not leave the fragrance incomplete just because her heart wavered. She broke off the lily of the valley with effort.
These lilies, found only in this region, were called Saint-Bertal Lily of the Valley after the estate. Their unique floral scent was even more pure and refreshing than others.
However, when turned into perfume, their concentrated toxicity was much stronger than ordinary lily of the valley, making them unusable.
Prim had used this flower in her final perfume in her previous life—her first and last time.
Examining the flowers, she added them to the bouquet she had gathered.
Though it didn’t quite match the bouquet Marceria had offered, left to dry completely, the fragrance was different.
The sweet scent of slightly thirsty wildflowers, combined with the soft warmth of musk mallow, and the pure, clear aroma of the lily of the valley evoked the morning dew of early summer.
Like the chime of transparent glass bells, it felt as if she had instantly traveled to a charming summer villa.
“Hmm.”
Yet it was slightly different from the fragrance she had originally envisioned.
The bitter scent from broken stems and the raw, watery smell unique to fresh flowers, rather than refined essences, were mixed in. Furthermore, the musk mallow did not give the aroma she had imagined.
Prim surveyed the musk mallow briefly.
Crushing the seeds, shaped like black snail shells, with a stone, released a slightly rough yet sufficiently warm musky aroma.
She sifted through the crushed seeds by hand, plucked a few thyme leaves growing nearby, and sprinkled them over the bouquet.
The intense, lively scent of thyme subtly layered onto the bouquet, dancing in a way that cheerfully expressed the refreshing heat of early summer.
A faint smile appeared on Prim’s lips as she inhaled the scent. It had been a long time since she had made a fragrance from raw materials alone. She felt she could almost forget the sharp pain at her feet.
“With this, Barin should be able to speak, right?”
Flowers and trees feed on water and sunlight. Animals feed on plants and other animals. Magical beasts feed on animals and humans. Humans feed on grains and bread. Then, what do gods eat?
They eat fragrance.
Well-crafted fragrances serve as meals for gods, granting them powerful strength, which they use to perform miracles and deliver oracles.
As more people witness the gods’ power, more followers believe and offer fragrances, strengthening the gods further.
Conversely, if there are no followers, there are no offerings, and the gods’ available power weakens, creating a vicious cycle of diminishing faith.
This was exactly Barin’s case.
Over time, he was slowly forgotten among people, the offerings dwindled, and even his divine power became weak. Now, only a tiny orphanage with a small temple in a ruined estate remained as followers.
Prim arranged the altar and placed the freshly made bouquet atop it. Handling living plants, rather than refined essences or perfume oil, felt awkward and even slightly embarrassing—it had been a long time.
She glanced around, clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and called the name of the god.
“Hmm, Barin?”
— …….
Prim peeked one eye open. The bouquet remained still.
“Is this not enough?”
She muttered as she reached to remove the bouquet, when suddenly rain began to fall from the clear sky, streaming through the temple’s holes, and a gentle light erupted around the bouquet.
Then, Barin’s urgent voice rang out.
— No! You just called my name without a single prayer!
“Oh, Barin. You’re here. So, what happens if I, as Perfuma, don’t offer the fragrance?”
Barin paused for a moment before replying.
— …Prayer?
Prayer? What prayer?
Prim’s eyes widened.
“Barin has a prayer… separate from this?”
— Of course I do! Naturally! I’m a god, after all!
Prim rolled her eyes.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled, and raindrops fell from the temple’s damaged ceiling, soaking the interior.
Prim crawled carefully to a dry spot, thinking.
If even a god in this temple had a prayer, where could she find it? Perhaps she could ask Priest Marceria later…
“I’ll look for it later. Not now. It’s impossible.”
— …….
The bouquet trembled.
Prim cleared her throat at the movement.
Usually straightforward and blunt, she hadn’t many people around to explain. That had been part of what made her end difficult.
She decided to explain her impossible situation further and ask about the important matter only after greetings.
“I can’t look for the book right now. I’ll ask the priest later. But Barin, how about the fragrance? Do you like it?”
— ……. It’s… wonderful…
Though Barin was still sulking, he answered honestly.
The bouquet captured the essence of a summer villa in a southern land.
It carried fragments of early summer, shimmering in the sunlight.
A warm, joyful scent, as if droplets had danced in a waltz and were sun-kissed.
Barin lingered in the fragrance, thinking: in the previous life, Yulberon had hurriedly sent the inquisitors down for a reason.
Those inquisitors had come running to “escort” Prim—not to punish her with death.
Yulberon must have known Prim intended to die herself.
And he could never allow her to actually die.
Even with a bouquet made not from refined essences or cherished plants, but from wildflowers scattered across the fields, such fragrance could emerge.
How could anyone give up a perfumer capable of reconnecting the god’s severed voice and manifesting it on earth?
— …I think I can deliver an oracle for three days.
“I see. That’s perfect. There are hardly any proper ingredients here anyway. So what were you saying… what happens if I don’t offer the fragrance?”
— You’ve just been praised by a god for your scent, and that’s all you have to say?
Prim responded quickly.
“I’m very happy. Truly.”
