The Mysterious Child: An Adventure Tale Beginning with Numerology

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"'Legendary Manifestation—Tantalus'"

The moment Ruruk chanted those words, all the surrounding spirit elements began to glow.

Saaya immediately understood it was the activation of spirit veins. She knew that using spirit veins was a technique of thought magic. But even her mystical arts teacher couldn't use thought magic. It wasn't a technique that could be used so easily, even among the difficult-to-master mystical arts.

The spirit elements gushing out from everywhere were a dazzling torrent of light.

Those spirit elements were being absorbed into Saaya's father's head.

"Once, there was a human named Tantalus who was favored by the gods. One day, he invited the gods to his own banquet. Tantalus, unbelievably, killed his own child and mixed its flesh into the meal he served to the gods. Furthermore, Tantalus stole food from the gods and gave it to others for his own benefit. Incurring the wrath of the gods, Tantalus was condemned for the crimes of filicide and embezzlement and sent to hell. Tantalus was suspended from a branch above a swamp in hell, cursed with an unquenchable thirst—whenever he tried to drink from the swamp to quench his thirst, the water level would recede, leaving him to suffer endlessly."

Ruruk narrated dispassionately.

Saaya's heartbeat quickened.

...She knew this.

She had heard this story before.

She remembered him excitedly telling it to his best friend long ago.

She had been eavesdropping from the next seat.

"Therefore, suffer. For the sin of attempting filicide, for the sin of trying to steal your brother's honor with poison. What lies at the end of your tainted hands is an eternally unattainable illusion—'Unreachable Suffering'. That is the name of the story that will torment you."

Her father said nothing more. He couldn't say anything.

He sat there, staring into space, having lost all emotion—his usual abuse, his jealousy towards his brother, his tyranny towards slaves—as if he had become a mere shell of a person.

...It's over.

That's what Saaya felt.

It was a very quiet ending. The father who had tormented her for so long would now suffer from his own desires by Ruruk's hand.

There was no battle, no blood, no pain. Yet it had certainly ended.

He had ended one person's life by making them suffer while still alive.

It was undoubtedly a sin of arrogance and selfishness.

"...I'm sorry, Ruruk."

"There's no need to apologize."

That was Ruruk's sin.

But it was also Saaya's sin.

The sin of not delivering proper judgment might one day turn against Saaya and Ruruk. The god said to exist somewhere in this world might judge them both.

...Even so.

"Thank you."

Those were the words that came from Saaya's mouth.

Gratitude for saving her life. Gratitude for leading her unforgivable father to ruin. And above all—

"'Let go, you bastard.' That's what you said earlier, right Ruruk? That's why my father let go, right?"

By this point, it was close to certainty.

Her heart began to race, thump-thump.

"...Saaya-san, you understand these words?"

Ruruk's surprised expression.

It took courage to tell the truth.

What if she was mistaken? What if she was wrong?

Her heartbeat was so loud she could almost hear it herself.

Her throat trembled.

It took all her courage... but.

"'Because I was Japanese too.'"

Saaya answered in Japanese.

This time, Ruruk was so shocked he held his breath.

But just being fellow former Japanese wouldn't make her this nervous.

There was more to it than that.

"That story from earlier, it was Greek mythology, right? I've heard it before. Before I reincarnated into this world, I overheard a classmate telling that story to a close friend. I eavesdropped on them at that time."

"I-I see. This is quite surprising... To think Saaya-san was also originally Japanese. If it gets out that I'm just pretending to be strong by using Earth's mythology, it might be a bit embarrassing."

A slightly embarrassed face.

It's similar.

Ah, his laugh is really just the same.

"Ruruk... um..."

"Yes?"

Her throat felt dry, but she managed to ask properly.

That question was the key to confirming whether Ruruk was him or not.

Even though she desperately wanted to know, Saaya felt like closing her eyes and covering her ears now. Ruruk, who held her in his arms, brightened his eyes.

"Yes! There are various forms of stories, but myths are really at the root of legends! Norse, Greek, Egyptian, Indian, Chinese, and of course Japanese—there are many myths in all of them. I love researching their origins and how they've been passed down! It's so fascinating how the same god might have different names and powers in different language areas, or how they might be spouses in some regions—the connections between regions are really deep! I wanted to study more about it in university, but unfortunately, I died rather easily before that dream—"

Ah, God...

Tears welled up in Saaya's eyes.

It had been so hard for so long.

She died without understanding why, and when she opened her eyes, she had reincarnated into this world as a baby.

Despite being born into nobility, life was poorer than she had imagined. Back in Japan, she had taken for granted being surrounded by kind parents and having warm meals. She had never questioned being born in a safe country and raised in a comfortable environment.

How many times had she resented coming to this world with those memories intact?

Bland meals. A city where theft and murder were commonplace. Her loving mother died soon after, and her days were spent following orders from a father who saw his daughter as nothing but a tool.

A future she didn't want. Days of confinement where she couldn't do what she wanted. Only the theoretical study of magic and mystical arts brought color to Saaya's otherwise dull, gray life.

Not allowed to leave the house, she had no friends. Forbidden even from approaching the beastkin children her uncle was sheltering, she had to live alone, in solitude.

The only reason she could endure for 10 years was because she had inherited not just her memories, but her heart as well.

In elementary school, she had been a chuunibyou.

She wore an eyepatch for no reason and ran around with the boys. She was an embarrassing child who believed she had magical talent and could transform into a magical girl by removing her eyepatch.

Even when her classmates made fun of her, she didn't give up. She acted tough, smiled, and put on a happy face... and then cried at home.

Why do they make fun of me?

I'm just doing what I like.

I'm not bothering anyone.

The first person to acknowledge her was a somewhat peculiar boy.

"That's cool! If you're the protagonist, it'll surely make a great story!"

For him, he might have thought her chuunibyou was just imaginative play.

But for her, that didn't matter at all.

He had encouraged her, telling her it was okay to think of herself as the protagonist of a story.

Since then, she had been interested in him.

Even after she outgrew her chuunibyou phase in middle school, she kept watching him.

When they became high school students and started to become adults, she suddenly made many friends. There were plenty of boys who approached her, but she still continued to follow him with her eyes.

He was straightforward, loving all kinds of stories and hardly caring about anything else.

She thought she'd gather her courage and take a step forward when they became university students—but just then, he suddenly died along with their classmates.

They could never meet again.

These feelings would never be reciprocated.

But for 10 years, she had used these feelings as support whenever things got tough.

She didn't want to fight, but she would study hard, become wise, and rise to prominence.

She would definitely become famous.

She would become someone talked about as the protagonist of a story.

Then someone might pass on her tale.

If a story with her as the protagonist remained in history...

Perhaps these unrequited feelings might someday reach him, who loved stories so much.

That's what she had thought.

So, so...

"W-wait, Saaya-san!?"

Tears flowed endlessly.

"I'm sorry, does something hurt? Should I put you down? You don't like being touched, right? I'm sorry, I'll immediately—"

"Nanairo-kun."

She whispered his name.

Not as Saaya, but as Ichinomiya Azusa.

She made no attempt to wipe away the overflowing tears.

She just stared at him intently.

He—Ruruk—held his breath for a moment, then answered softly.

"Could it be, Ichinomiya-sa—mmph!?"

At that moment, Saaya's lips sealed Ruruk's.

For him, it was just an instant.

For her, it felt like an eternal moment.

It was a rough yet warm kiss.

As their lips parted, Saaya, still clinging to Ruruk's neck, spoke with a trembling voice.

"I've wanted to see you for so long... I thought I'd never see you again... But I did. I got to see you, Nanairo-kun!"

"...I see. You've been working hard all alone, haven't you, Ichinomiya-san?"

"Yes, I tried my best... I thought so many times that I didn't want this life... But I'm glad... I'm so glad I lived. Uuu, waaaaaah!"

"Yeah. I'm glad you lived. I'm glad we met. I'm really glad I could save you."

Ruruk gently stroked Saaya's back.

His gaze towards her, who had burst into loud sobs, was gentle and filled with affection.