All senses were hazy.
How strange. Miros thought he was dreaming. He couldn’t explain it in words, but that’s how it felt. Light, sound. Even the air blurred ambiguously. But only one thing—the image of that existence—remained uniquely clear.
The face wasn’t visible. Even the form flickered dimly. Yet he could know. That it was the trace that always covered me.
Beneath the shade of thick leaves, we were together. The smell of moss and earth mixed together was very familiar. The grass scent seeping into the tip of his nose kept making his breathing steady.
A thin beam of light slipped through between fingers. The touch that stroked his cheeks and smoothed his hair was warm. Remarkably soft and delicate.
It was okay not to say or want anything. When that hand simply touched him, his eyelids sank heavily and his breath became quiet. Everything was affectionate. He didn’t know what it was, but that warmth was engraved in his bones, in his soul.
Why can’t I remember this? Miros thought it was strange. All those sensations are so familiar, yet why? Everything is so clearly vivid, so why can’t I remember what it was?
Why can’t I recall that face?
Grains of sand slipped smoothly between his fingers. The little child looked at it as if it were fascinating, then grasped the sand again. The pile of sand collapsed without form, but an inexplicable sense of pride welled up in his heart. He frantically piled up sand with both hands, then knocked it down and laughed.
The sound of laughter rang out clearly, and from somewhere the chirping of small birds mixed in.
When he stumbled and fell on his bottom on the sand, a stinging sensation brushed past, but tears didn’t come.
He simply looked up at the sky. Sunlight poured through the tree branches.
‘Miros, are you happy?’
‘…No, well. Not particularly.’
‘But I like it when Miros laughs.’
As that light gently seeped into his eyes, he smiled soundlessly.
He reached out and plucked a blade of grass. The thin stem that had been swaying gently stayed obediently in his hand. That hand was still small and dirty with dust, but as he affectionately stroked that single blade of grass, his mood improved.
‘That child turns beautifully colored in autumn.’
‘…Prettier than me?’
‘No way. You’re the prettiest.’
With small feet, he walked through the grass with clumsy steps. The texture of earth touching his soles was ticklish, and even that sensation was pleasant. Even when he tripped over a stone and fell, even when he rolled and slid on the grass, the child giggled.
Everything around seemed good.
The grass smell, the dust smell, the cool wind, the warm sunlight brushing past. When I laughed, it seemed like the wind laughed too, and when I ran, it seemed like the leaves ran together too. So I was truly happy.
Everything, everything in this world seemed to be on my side.
Back then, happiness was so natural to me, and I loved everything in that moment—the air, the light, the smell, even the earth.
Huh? What did I just say? In a corner of Miros’s heart, a question bloomed quietly, like a very small whisper.
I? Me? Wait, why ‘I’? Was I really ever that happy…
When was that?
***
The room was quiet.
Miros lay on the bed breathing only faintly. His eyelids were tightly closed, and heat remained on his face with a faint flush seeping in.
Levia sat beside him.
Holding a white cloth in his hand, he carefully wiped away his sweat and checked his condition.
The wiping motion was gentle and affectionate, but Levia’s expression clearly held something else.
Worry, and puzzlement. Though he was relieved by the mere fact that he was alive, that state was utterly incomprehensible.
“How did he come all the way here?”
“Didn’t his memories return?”
“I don’t know.”
Levia sat beside Miros in human form. Next to him, Havi was sprawled out yawning widely. It was because Levia had made such a fuss that he’d been dragged here while trying to sleep. Levia waved his hand over the face of the lying Miros and said,
“My energy still remains, so I can’t be certain.”
He couldn’t understand it at all. There were certainly places he couldn’t erase so he’d hidden them, but he’d carved out most of it well. At least he’d thought so at the time. But if you put it that way, there was no explaining why Miros was here now.
Miros’s face was still pale, and his breath was faint. Still, he was a bit better now. Just until right before, he’d been running a high fever and even spouting nonsense. Though his face still showed a pained expression.
“This time, even if it’s a bit dangerous, you can just erase it thoroughly.”
“Don’t be so heartless and help me think about it.”
“Frankly speaking, it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it anyway.”
Havi grumbled to his heart’s content. Well, of course. Not only was he dragged here while trying to sleep, but even if he was here, there was no way a solution would come out anyway. Whatever he did, Levia would have to use his power in the end. Havi stuck out his snout and got up from his seat.
“You’re going to do whatever you want anyway.”
“…I came to you because I don’t know what will happen.”
“How ridiculous. Frankly, if I say something, will you listen? Even if I say let’s kill him cleanly?”
“Havi.”
“Anyway, I made a mistake settling here. I shouldn’t have relaxed just because it was quiet for decades.”
At Havi’s words, Levia only frowned and closed his mouth. Annoying but true. There was no way he’d do everything Havi told him. Especially how could he just listen to words about harming Miros?
“When he was young he at least had cuteness, but now he’s just a huge male adult at a glance. Disgusting.”
“…Miros is still pretty. Don’t say such harsh things.”
“You’re the one making me heartless. I’m not really saying to kill him. I’m saying if you’re going to send him back, don’t make such a fuss. Anyway…”
When Levia became quiet, Havi seemed displeased with that too, muttered complaints, then left with a huff.
—Havi left.
—Kill this?
—…Don’t say things that will cause big trouble.
As soon as Havi left Levia’s nest, this time the Dryads gathered in a cluster and began chattering. Levia was displeased with all of it.
—This got uglier.
—When he was a Hatchling he was at least cute.
—I’m telling you he’s not ugly. Why do you say such things about the prettiest child?
—Progenitor’s eyes seem wrong. Though he originally has no eyes.
That was true. Levia originally had no eyes. That didn’t mean he couldn’t see. Though he knew it, the Dryads seemed displeased that Levia, their progenitor and origin, wouldn’t follow their wishes, so they chattered.
—Ugly.
—All of you go away. And saying ugly about Miros is forbidden.
—Progenitor is petty. Bleh.
—I said go away.
No one acknowledges the fact that Miros is pretty, so even in this situation I’m getting horns. But soon Levia sank back into contemplation.
How did he enter this place again? He was a child he’d sent back to live well as a human in the first place. This wasn’t a place one could easily reach with walking steps.
The fingertips wiping Miros’s face hesitated. And another question arose.
Did his memories return?
If his memories returned, when? How? And why was he collapsed covered in wounds like this? That question and anxiety, and subtle guilt tangled together.
Levia was still pretending to have an endlessly affectionate attitude, but inside he was constantly wavering to maintain that affection.
Levia looked at Miros again.
His breath was quiet, and his body still had a slight fever remaining. But from within it, something inexplicable, an unfamiliar sense of discord seeped out.
Feeling the subtle warmth of sweat touching his fingertips, Levia was still monitoring his breath.
The moment puzzlement and anxiety tangled and churned messily in his heart, Miros’s eyelids trembled very faintly.
That trembling was minute, but it was clearly captured in Levia’s vision.
And soon, Miros’s eyes slowly opened. Beneath the eyelids where redness faintly swirled, those eyes were no longer green.
Cool golden light. An indescribable strange light rippled coldly.
“…Huh?”
Without even being able to steady his breath, those golden eyes turned directly toward Levia. It was a gaze that was hazy but seemed to clearly know Levia.
Did his memories return? Then what do I do? And why did his eye color change? Levia was confused. Then, Miros’s lips opened very faintly.
Levia was confused. At that moment, Levia’s fingertips trembled very faintly. Into Levia’s ear, that pet name he hadn’t heard in so long seeped in coldly.
“Leri…?”
It was a low, subdued voice. Quiet, but it rang out clearly in the room.
***
Miros opened his eyes, but the scenery that came into view was strangely unfamiliar. Even the air was somehow uncomfortable.
It was cool but not cold. When he breathed in, damp grass scent seeped in, but that fragrance was strangely comfortable. It felt familiar, yet that familiarity flowed only on the surface like a shell.
There were no angular structures anywhere, and all lines curved roundly and continued softly. But even that softness strangely gave tension.
Where… is this?
Though his head became hazily murky, only his body’s sensations awakened clearly. His body still held a slight fever, but before that, from deep inside his body an inexplicable sense of discord rippled.
He turned his head subtly toward Levia.
Just the fact that that existence was beside him made a cool pressure well up from somewhere inside his body. But that sensation wasn’t fear, nor was it revulsion. A strange sensation where inexplicable intimacy and tension were tangled.
While steadying his breath, he carefully grasped the edge of the blanket with his fingertips. But even that small motion felt like ‘a motion that wasn’t his’. All sensations were misaligned.
“Um? Are you okay? Does it still hurt?”
At Levia’s question, Miros quietly lowered his eyelids then raised them again and let out a short sigh.
It was strange. Everything was familiar yet unfamiliar.
But why, why was a corner of his heart feeling such relief like this?
When Miros raised his head again, Levia was still watching only Miros with a face full of worry. Though it was a short time, that silence seemed to stretch endlessly long.
“Um, by any chance, do you remember everything?”
“…Mem…ories?”
“Or not?”
“Which… ones?”
Miros answered with a still dazed face, and Levia, who had been observing for a while, let out a very small breath.
That sigh pretended to be calm and affectionate, but the heavy emotion dwelling within it seeped into the room.
At that sight, Miros’s heart churned messily inside, but outwardly he still feigned tranquility. Words ultimately didn’t come out. He couldn’t bear to say them. Seeing Levia’s appearance that seemed relieved, his mouth absolutely wouldn’t open. Miros secretly despaired alone.
How could he say something like I remember everything, here of all places?
