Are all humans like this, or is Miros just special? It seems like he thinks everything’s a transaction. How can that be? If you want to give something, you give it. If you want to receive something, you receive it. Or you don’t. I don’t understand why there has to be so much calculation.
“You don’t have to protect me or love me. Your heart is yours, and your freedom is your will. I’m satisfied just seeing you bloom beautifully again. So it’s fine. If you’re really that anxious, just ask me to show you a miracle. Just ask me for power. I don’t want anything from you. I’m simply happy when you’re happy.”
Miros seems very fearful. I knew humans were weak, but Miros is especially fragile. After hesitating for a moment, Miros spoke.
“To be honest, I’m scared. I can’t help but hope since you say you can fix it, but I can’t lie either. I know it’s an unreasonable greed.”
“Greed begins with wishes. Wanting and desiring something is a right and duty given to all things.”
“I’m angry at myself for being so shameless and brazen.”
“You don’t need to be. Now, hurry and say it. That you’ll accept me, that you’ll receive my power and enjoy my miracle.”
There’s no need to be this honest. I heard humans are full of liars, but Miros is too honest. He could just quickly say he’ll take it and be done with it, but he even hesitates at that. After fidgeting, Miros kissed my hand again and said quietly.
“O progenitor of the oak, proof of all nature. Grant me your miracle.”
Finally! Finally Miros gave permission! Why is this so troublesome? If he’d just asked for it right away, there would’ve been no such ordeal! As soon as Miros finished speaking, I swept my fingertips over the empty eye socket.
Light and wind gathered and clustered in the empty space that had only been gushing tears. The glittering things pooled like mist, then scattered, and in their place, a human eye filled up again.
“Ah, did I use too much strength in my joy?”
But it’s not amber. Not Miros’s pretty eyes, but a very deep green. I thought I was being gentle, but I guess I put in more strength than I thought. My goodness, even this was too strong. How weakly was I supposed to use it?
After blinking a few times, Miros suddenly raised his head. And his eyes met mine looking down at him. No, more precisely, my face. Since I don’t have eyes. Strictly speaking, it’s not eyes since horns sprout where eyes would normally be.
Miros seemed shocked seeing my true form and just kept his mouth opening and closing for a while.
“Hello? Miros?”
Why is he acting like this? I poked him with my fingertip, but he just rolled over on his side. Huh?
—Why is the human like that?
“I don’t know either.”
—Is he dead?
“…He was fine until now?”
If he was going to die, shouldn’t he have died already? Why is he like this?
Shocked, I had the dryads urgently summon Havi. Havi, who was suddenly dragged over, was angry but said it was nothing serious. The human just fainted from being too startled.
“Why would he suddenly faint? Can that happen?”
“Goats and mountain goats go stiff and lie down when there’s a loud noise. Among humans, especially timid ones sometimes collapse too.”
“…Miros is incredibly, incredibly, seriously ridiculously weak.”
“At least he didn’t die because he received your power. Weak ones can die right on the spot if they’re too shocked.”
My goodness, he can be this weak. Is he weaker because he’s pretty? I really don’t understand.
***
[Miros]
At first, I thought, what kind of crazy bastard is this?
‘You’re really pretty.’
A human who suddenly appeared spoke to me like this out of nowhere.
I had no idea where he crawled out from. I thought I had good eyes, but I didn’t notice until he was right in front of me. The guys I was with seemed surprised too, slowly backing away before running off.
Damn, what rotten luck. Some lunatic pops out right from the start.
I don’t know exactly when I first saw him. Was it summer, was it fall? I don’t think it was winter, but I’m not certain. Maybe it was early winter and I’m just mistaken.
The man approached me without a care.
He looked normal at first glance. No, in a way, he couldn’t be more suspicious. A human walking around the market in such luxurious clothes. Alone, at that.
‘Get lost! You fucking pervert!’
It’s best not to associate with this kind. So I ran off.
But then I met him again the next day. No, seriously, how did he find me? Today I even made the effort to come out to a different neighborhood.
It couldn’t be a coincidence. He pointed at me very precisely and walked straight over.
That crazy human’s appearance was really normal. No, let me be honest. He was the best I’d ever seen. It’s really annoying, but I have to acknowledge what I have to acknowledge.
Quite tall with a nimble body. His footsteps were almost silent. His hair was thick, curly, and very dark brown, but when it caught the light, it sparkled in a deep green like jade. His skin was fair and smooth, without even a single freckle showing.
He was so pretty that it seemed strange for something like that to exist and walk around in this world.
Should I say handsome? I don’t really know. I can tell he’s so good-looking it’s excellent, but I can’t decide whether to call it beautiful or wonderful. Maybe I’m confused because it’s both.
The clothes he wore were silk garments covered in all sorts of metalwork and embroidery, very colorful and splendid. The coat he wore had fluffy fur trim so abundant it looked like it would burst with a pop, and the leather shoes he wore had gold embroidery on them.
A walking vault, a vault.
I wondered if he was a noble. Actually, even among the nobles I’d seen before, I’d never seen anyone this splendid, but if not that, I couldn’t really guess anything else. He couldn’t possibly be the emperor or something, right?
I really don’t know why a human like that came out to these filthy streets. And wandering around alone, jabbering away, at that.
He was truly, terribly out of place. As if he’d been cut out from somewhere else and pasted here alone. He shone too brightly, and these streets were disgustingly dirty and dark. Something that shouldn’t be there was there. That man shouldn’t have been here.
I ran away several times out of instinctive fear. Even though I didn’t know what he was. It might have been instinctive fear, or maybe because the radiance that didn’t suit these musty gutters was unfamiliar.
But this crazy human keeps finding me. I don’t even know how he finds me, and he comes every day. He doesn’t really do anything. Just stares at most. Sometimes he approaches and talks to me when I’m resting.
‘Stop following me!’
‘I’m just looking. Because you’re pretty.’
I really don’t understand! This crazy human keeps calling me pretty. But I’m not delusional enough to fantasize about those words.
How could I be pretty?
I’m not pretty-looking either. I’ve occasionally been told my eyes are pretty, but other than that, I’ve never really heard that kind of thing.
I don’t even really know what my face looks like. But other people have eyes too, so if I were really pretty, someone would have said something.
Unlike him, I’m a complete mess. So filthy I can’t even remember when I last washed, and the clothes I’m wearing are no different from rags. All I do is steal or beg.
He doesn’t particularly interfere with what I do. He just watches from far away, or from somewhere out of sight. But I can’t deny that his gaze bothers me.
What does he want? No, can he even want anything from me? I have nothing. There’s nothing I can give. Is he after my body? That’s even stranger. He wore very luxurious clothes and was beautiful.
There’s no reason for him to want someone like me. No reason to call someone like me pretty. But he keeps calling me pretty. He’s not exactly trying to catch me, but he is following me around.
What is he really trying to do?
‘You’re really pretty.’
‘You’re really crazy.’
Whenever our eyes meet, he calls me pretty. He really says it like breathing. At some point, I got tired of arguing back. I got tired of getting annoyed and angry, and of babbling about reasons why I’m not pretty.
Because that damn bastard didn’t listen to a word I said!
He asked all sorts of things. Where are my parents, why do I need money, what do I like, and such. Even though I wanted to ignore him, he kept hovering nearby, so I ended up answering.
But this is strange too.
He suddenly brings me food—catches rabbits and mice and such. Since I didn’t eat them, he brought fruit. No matter how I think about it, it’s strange. How can this kind of thing come out in this dead of winter?
Strawberries on a day when it’s snowing heavily—does that make sense?
Do nobles seek out and eat these things regardless of the season? At some point, I had become convinced that man was a noble. At least within my common sense, only nobles came to mind as idlers who could wander around looking like that.
Stupidly, at some point I started waiting for that human too.
‘Hey, what’s your name?’
I asked because it was bothersome to keep calling him “that human, that human.” It’s okay to know a name at least, right? But this crazy human said his name was “Levia-Rishian.”
I was dumbfounded. He should have just said he didn’t want to tell me.
Levia-Rishian is an ancient god. Famous enough that even I, who haven’t learned anything, knew about it.
Not a god of faith like the Nine Great Saints or Seven Great Seats, but a primordial god who’s willful and unpredictable. An ancient god who pours out blessings and curses as he pleases.
A god that only occasionally appears in old tales. Used for things like scaring children. The family that gave someone such a name must be equally insane.
Though the strangest one would be that human who still uses that name.
Actually, maybe he just didn’t want to tell me his name. It wasn’t a very important matter. In any case, what mattered was that I could now call him something.
The man casually tossed that out as his name, then stared at me intently. Why is he like that? The man who had been staring blankly opened his mouth.
Then he asked my name too. Damn, I had nothing to say. It wasn’t the time to laugh at someone else’s name. At least he has a name; I don’t even have that.
When I told him to just call me whatever, he said he’d call me “Miros.”
‘If you want, you can ask me to call you something you like later.’
When I asked if it had a meaning, he said it meant divine. A name far too generous for a street beggar and thief. But it didn’t seem like I disliked it.
Hey, you, there, kid. I’d been called other things, but those weren’t designations just for me. They were just momentary calls for convenience.
I gained a designation solely for me, pointing to me. That wasn’t so bad. No, maybe it was a little good.
That’s how I obtained the name Miros.
