TRL 73

Chapter 73

Rita stood with her mouth agape in shock.

“For real? I really have that kind of strange constitution?”

“We’ll have to run more tests to be sure, but I’m 99 percent confident. Both healing magic and divine power are harmful to your body. They may work immediately, but in the long run, they’re closer to poison. Herbal potions seem to be okay, probably because they contain a lot of pure Ode due to the use of natural ingredients. That’s also why healing potions, while effective, can be addictive for regular people.”

Olivia let out a short sigh and shook her head.

“Rita, in Pascal’s history, you were… born with a frail constitution but also happened to be a noble lady. From childhood, you must’ve been bombarded with healing magic and divine blessings without anyone realizing they were actually harming you. People back then didn’t even know what Ode was. And it probably looked like you were getting better temporarily, so they kept using it.”

“…Then my body must’ve gotten weaker over time.”

“Yeah. There’s a record of a rare case like that in the Tower of Magic’s history books.”

Olivia pulled the book that had been in front of Rita and opened it to Part 7 of the Heroic Chronicles. She pointed to the slightly messy handwriting, as if it had been hurriedly copied, and read aloud.

“‘Lady Lillietta of Lascaille seems to possess a unique constitution that reacts sensitively to magic. It’s now concluded that even healing magic is intolerable, so a priest has been summoned…’ See?”

Olivia sighed again.

“We know that magic and divine power are essentially altered forms of Ode. It just looks different depending on whether the user processes it or transmits it. But people of that era didn’t know, so they tried to treat your pneumonia with divine power, which only worsened your physical condition and caused you to deteriorate rapidly. That’s how Lillietta died.”

“Now that you say it, it makes sense.”

Rita rubbed her face with both hands and said,

“When I was little, they say I was so weak I couldn’t even run. But after I returned, I wasn’t that bad. I always wondered why I seemed healthier than in my childhood—maybe it’s because my body, while in that coffin… wasn’t exposed to magic or divine power. So it grew a bit stronger.”

“Probably. No—almost definitely. And now you’ll be fine going forward. You’re a Vowed One now.”

Olivia grinned bitterly and continued,

“Unlike regular Vowed Ones, your body might actually benefit from storing and using large amounts of Ode. Since you now have internal Ode, you won’t go haywire just because you’re exposed to minor magic or divine power anymore… So no need to worry too much from here on out.”

“Ah-ha.”

“Just be careful not to get healing spells or divine treatment if you get hurt. Always carry potions with you. And don’t overuse Ode. If you go into Ode overload, there’s no saving you, so be careful. Your limit is probably higher than Gide’s, so it should be fine, but… Damn it, now that I think about it, scratch that—it’s not fine at all. You’re Rita Pascal, which makes me damn nervous.”

[Decision: Grace will intervene before anything happens.]

[Request: Please relay this determination to my Creator.]

At the voice that rang in her mind, Rita lowered her gaze to the opal butterfly, its antennae held stiff and wings spread wide.

‘Was I really acting that recklessly? Everything I did was calculated, even if it looked risky. And the results were always good…’

She felt a bit unfairly judged, but considering the things she’d done, she wisely chose not to say it out loud—Olivia might strangle her. So she simply passed along the artificial spirit’s words.

“Grace said she’ll make sure that never happens.”

“Oh, how admirable. It really understands its purpose well.”

Olivia beamed and gave a sweet smile to the butterfly still perched on Rita’s fingertip.

“I’m counting on you, uh… Grace. You know? Let’s do our best, okay?”

The butterfly trembled and slowly fluttered back toward its master. Olivia snorted and turned her sharp gaze back to Rita.

“Rita, if you leave Grace behind, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“…Don’t worry. I’ll keep it close.”

“Damn it, Rita Pascal. It wasn’t enough that you lacked survival instincts—you’ve even got a paper-thin body now. This is giving me a headache.”

Rillietta hurried to change the subject before Olivia could nag further.

“Then… if I died young in Pascal’s history, why did Pascal summon me at all? I wasn’t even a legendary hero.”

She had been curious about how her name might be remembered in history, so she felt a little disappointed. But this question was more pressing. She pushed aside her slight disappointment and focused.

Olivia narrowed her eyes and replied,

“Like he said, you were an exception.”

“So why? Why was I, someone who wasn’t even a hero, the exception?”

“Your talent is ridiculous.”

“…Ah.”

“You know it yourself, don’t you? Your Ode aptitude might be poor, but your control, analysis, and processing abilities are all exceptional. Even the original Lillietta had extraordinary aptitude. Of course Pascal would be tempted. If you had awakened to your Ode, you would’ve been amazing—a genius who died young because she was born in the wrong era. If it were me, I’d want to revive and use you too.”

“But I didn’t even leave a mark in history. How did he find out about me?”

“Maybe he was digging through obscure historical records, looking for more talent to summon, and came across you. The Magic Tower had records of your unique constitution, so that might’ve caught his interest. From what I heard about how he abducted you, it sounds like he possessed ‘Hannah’ and observed you directly. That would’ve confirmed your talents for him.”

Olivia shrugged and added,

“So you became the ‘exception’… And since there was no historical record of you, he probably made up your Vow based on his own wishes.”

“That’s probably why my first weapon was some random dagger, and the memories implanted through training were so flimsy and incomplete.”

“You didn’t have any prime-era memories to implant, after all. He must’ve just cobbled together random ones. And since there was no historical record of what weapon suited you, he couldn’t assign one properly… Wow, it’s amazing you managed to pass that training under such crap conditions.”

She clicked her tongue and continued, looking at Rita, who looked sheepish.

“Anyway, now it all makes sense. Why you looked so different during the Ashes Era, and why your maid now looks just like your past self.”

“Yeah. I get it too.”

“F*ck, am I the only one not following? What? Why does her maid look like Rita Pascal?”

Ethan, who had been listening quietly, suddenly cursed and asked. Olivia scowled at his cluelessness, so Rita quickly explained.

“In Pascal’s history, I died young and left no descendants.”

“You talk about your early death so damn casually.”

“Well… it’s a rewritten history now. I’m not going to die early anymore, so it’s nothing to stress over. Anyway, in the Pascal he knows, I left no descendants. But my maid Hannah’s descendants must have continued through to the Ashes Era.”

“Huh?”

“So Pascal chose Dorothy, a descendant of Hannah, to serve as the vessel for my soul, since I had no descendants. After targeting me, he must’ve looked among my close associates’ descendants for a suitable host, and she got unlucky.”

Olivia chimed in.

“That explains why Rita’s paralysis symptoms were worse than any other Pascal’s. The rest of us were possessing the bodies of our own descendants, so the side effects were milder. But she got forced into a complete stranger’s body—of course things went haywire. Rita was an exception in every way.”

“It must’ve been a new experiment. Maybe he used me as a sample to try expanding the types of revenants.”

“It’s plausible. Since all the existing Pascals were failing to return, maybe he wanted to try a new method… And you were the first one to successfully return.”

“Speaking of which—”

Rita recalled something Gide had once said:

“…I found out after you died. Your death was… different.”

“If you no longer existed in the future, maybe it meant you returned to the past. By chance. Like a miracle. I clung to that hope. That’s why our return was inevitable.”

“I…”

What happened after I died? How did you all make it back?

She had been about to ask the question that had been left unanswered—but stopped. She sensed someone approaching the Ode they had laid out.

Olivia must’ve sensed it through magic as well; she quickly closed the basket lid and handed Rita the history book.

“Someone’s coming. Take this.”