Chapter 4
It was truly delightful, but counting the number of times she had heard such words from various gods—hundreds of times by now—it was no longer something that could deeply move her.
The bouquet twitched as if alive. Prim, watching it quietly, added,
“I’m happy, but I’m worried you might stop speaking halfway, like just now.”
— You care more about the oracle than about me right now!
“Barin is important, so what you say is important too…”
The bouquet trembled again before finally calming, and Barin’s voice flowed once more.
— …Consider all of this as if it never happened.
“……?”
Prim’s eyes widened.
Seeing Prim, who usually replied calmly to everything, show a surprised expression, Barin’s voice brimmed with pride.
— Oh, my little lily of the valley. Isn’t it obvious? We’ve traveled back in time! Naturally, my power has returned to this period as well. You’re the only ones who believe in me, a few orphans, and the only thing that consumes my offerings are the fragrances you make. I’m a god reduced to a roasted potato, barely able to issue an oracle.
In other words, the plate doesn’t have steak. Only a peripheral asparagus, some onions, a little sauce—or a roasted potato.
“So?”
— So, until the day you die comes again, you must become the greatest perfumer in this land and offer me the finest fragrance once more. Otherwise, this regression is null and void. This is what the recurrence of regression means.
“……”
A furrow formed on Prim’s brow.
Her feet, pricked by thorns while walking barefoot under the early summer sun, suddenly seemed to ache intensely.
“You knew this would happen?”
— Of course.
“But at that time… you didn’t say such things.”
Barin had never warned her that the regression would be invalid if she failed to offer the fragrance.
Barin, instead, asked with surprise:
— If I had? Are you saying it wouldn’t have regressed?
At that moment, the only other choice she had besides regression was the “revival of dead Rogien.”
“……That wouldn’t have happened.”
She wanted everything that Rogien rightfully deserved to be restored. Even the time he had devoted to her.
— See! I knew everything and only told you what was necessary.
“Then I’ll make the fragrance again.”
The fragrance was filled with enough poison to easily take a life, but it would be fine as long as she didn’t pour it into her own body to die.
— I told you, it’s impossible.
“……?”
— It’s already become a ‘real fragrance.’
Barin continued:
— Because I know it.
“……?”
Prim blinked. The bouquet she had made trembled, releasing its scent.
Above the lively fragrance transforming the temple into a summer villa, the god’s voice boomed sharply.
— I told you! This was an extraordinary scent created by the world’s greatest perfumer, a fragrance that never existed before! That’s why it required the power equivalent to the elixir of reversing heaven! So until ‘that day’ comes, you must become one of the twelve Perfuma Aeteria once again and create a ‘fragrance that never existed in the world,’ one that even the gods have never smelled! And you must offer it to me!
Prim decided to correct what she could immediately.
“I wasn’t one of the Perfuma Aeteria at that time, remember?”
— What do you mean? Even they secretly acknowledged that you were the best.
“Barin doesn’t understand human hearts, though.”
Even gods cannot read human emotions.
— Oh, my lily of the valley, don’t keep making me mad.
“But I understand what you mean. But is it really important that I become Perfuma Aeteria?”
— Of course it is! It’s to certify that this follower of mine is the finest perfumer—of course it’s important!
Prim thought it might be more about Barin’s pride than actual importance, but she didn’t voice it.
At that moment, she was a perfumer who had amassed more wealth than any active perfumer in the mortal world.
However, since she had never passed the test, she wasn’t officially recognized as Perfuma Aeteria. Perhaps aiming for it in this life was a good idea.
Prim paused, looking up at the sky. Rain was still dripping from the inadequately repaired roof.
This was all that remained of Barin’s temple. Priest Marceria, busy taking care of the orphanage, could not even touch this temple.
In this situation…
“So you’re saying Barin must be one of the top thirteen gods?”
— Ahem, not the very top, maybe second or third…
Could regression really be maintained with only second or third rank? Prim tilted her head.
“The strongest god right now is Alendiai, right? Could they also cause regression? Then there might be more people who have regressed…”
At Prim’s innocent question, the bouquet shook violently.
— Damn it! I must be the top! Second or third is ridiculously insufficient!
“I see. Then why did you lie?”
— Ha, little lily of the valley, listen carefully. Suddenly telling the lowest-ranked that I must be first would be too much of a burden. I knew it was difficult, so I moderated it so you wouldn’t feel pressured.
“Hmm, second or third rank seems just as burdensome to the lowest-ranked anyway.”
— …….
Prim said gently:
“Next time, you don’t have to worry about me so much. Just be honest.”
— Alright…
Barin answered weakly.
Prim gazed quietly at the raindrops, which had lessened after pouring heavily.
These drops did not carry the fragrance she knew, the scent that gathers when moisture floats in the air and condenses.
The damp droplets smelled a little sweet, familiar yet slightly different.
Prim realized:
This isn’t rain.
“Barin, did you… cry?”
— I-I’m not crying! I’m not crying!
The bouquet trembled frantically.
— Don’t think I cried in joy because I was issuing an oracle again after so long! Not at all!
The tears that Barin shed after inhaling her fragrance were clear and pure, like crystal, evaporating quickly to leave only the scent behind.
Then Barin trembled.
— Your rose is running to me. Remember what I said.
The light faded from the bouquet. As Prim, kneeling, slightly lifted it, the temple doors suddenly swung open.
“Prim! So you were here!”
At the same time, through the gap of the door, red hair cascaded like blooming roses, and a boy’s voice rang sharply.
Prim stared, momentarily dazed, at the temple door.
A boy with deep green eyes, like dense foliage, walked straight toward her.
“Were you wandering around again without me? I told you to wait until I came!”
The boy scolded her, then hurried over and lifted Prim onto the altar.
She looked at him, alive and grown younger, her chest swelling. Light sparkled in his eyes.
And those eyes flickered slightly, as if trying to interpret her silence, to understand what she wished without her speaking.
After briefly checking her expression, he said:
“Prim, did something happen… to make you upset?”
“Nothing like that.”
Prim denied firmly and quickly. Seeing a clear denial rather than silence seemed to surprise Rogien a little.
“Still, don’t go anywhere alone. I said I’d take care of it.”
He said that, then knelt before her, examining her feet. They were bloodied from thorn pricks.
Rogien opened the lid of his always-carrying water flask and gently washed her feet.
“Ouch…”
“Does it hurt a lot? That’s why I told you to wait for me.”
“I was in a bit of a hurry.”
“What could be so urgent? What were you trying to do?”
The boy, unable to contain his curiosity, asked eagerly.
The last time she saw his face, there had been a shadowed, fierce smile.
Holding complete control over the back alleys of Bitrelia, he couldn’t have kept such a carefree expression.
But now Rogien’s voice was clear and cheerful. Prim felt her chest ache and turned her gaze to the bouquet beside her.
