Chapter 1 - Ritz Alster's Story <1>
This is the beginning of a 15-volume otherworld fantasy.
However, I'll be making corrections here and there, so posting the full text will surely take some time, but I hope you enjoy it.
I
"So I'm back, huh..."
Ritz Alster dropped his luggage and a greatsword roughly the size of a small person at his feet, letting out a murmur that was equal parts sigh and nostalgia. Before him spread a great forest, dark even in the daytime, its depths impossible to see. He glanced back, but there was only a sprawling grassland, with no sign of a town, let alone another person. That was to be expected, of course. It was rare for any human to set foot in this great forest.
Located in the northeastern Yuresla Kingdom, this great forest was officially named Ciedena Forest. But few called it by its proper name. Its other, far more famous moniker was much better known.
Ciedena Forest... also known as the 'Lost Forest of the Spirit Tribe'.
Only the beautiful Spirit Tribe, who lived ten times longer than humans and could converse with spirits from birth, were permitted to live in this land. In truth, "Spirit Tribe" was a name humans had given them out of admiration for their beautiful appearance; their official name was the "Clan of Light." They were one of the six demi-human races living on the continent.
Should any other race wander into this forest, there was no guarantee they would return alive. Those who managed to escape with their lives would speak with trembling voices of the forest's horrors, and thus it became known to the world as a place of terror.
"Alright, let's go."
He'd been lost in thought for a while, but just standing there wouldn't get him anywhere. Steeling himself, he hoisted the baggage onto his tall frame once more and stepped into the notorious forest with the casual gait of someone out for a stroll.
"This forest never changes, huh."
Contrary to his casual steps and light tone, the pack on his back felt crushingly heavy. It wasn't just the physical weight; his heart felt heavy, reluctant.
Having entered this forest, he obviously couldn't be human. And yet, Ritz's appearance was a far cry from the commonly known image of the Spirit Tribe. His hair was jet-black and cut haphazardly. His physique, devoid of the clan's characteristic suppleness and delicacy, was lean yet well-muscled, a tall, balanced frame that could only be described as a body of steel, forged for battle.
To the average person, he looked entirely human, but the shape of his ears, hidden beneath his black hair, was distinctive. They were slightly larger than a human's and pointed at the tips. Still, they weren't as characteristic as those of the Clan of Light, which were said to resemble the wings of a mystical butterfly, so he could easily pass among humans with a simple excuse. In fact, until now, he'd always brushed it off with a vague, "Yeah, I was just born a little different."
"Been away for forty years already."
He looked to be in his mid-twenties, yet he muttered these words as he walked deeper into the woods.
The time was autumn, in the year 1572 of the Yuresla Kingdom Calendar. The scent of summer still lingered strongly in the air.
But here in Ciedena Forest, the high altitude and the dense canopy of trees kept it quite cool, as if the seasons had skipped ahead. Dappled sunlight filtered through the rustling leaves, dancing softly through the woods.
Walking here again after so long, he couldn't help but remember the day he'd stormed out of his home. The memories threatened to pull his mind back to the person he was then. In the forty years since, his way of life, his values—everything about him had changed dramatically. And yet, this forest remained utterly unchanged, as if time had stood still.
What was a long time for him was perhaps no more than the blink of an eye for the great trees of this forest. Even the long-lived Clan of Light barely reached a thousand years, but this forest had a lifespan far greater than that.
The gentle, damp air of the forest wrapped around Ritz like a comforting embrace. If one could hear the voices of the spirits, they would surely hear the trees whispering in unison, 'Welcome back,' and 'Where have you been?' But while every other member of his clan could hear the spirits, Ritz himself could not, due to his unique birth. He'd never felt it was an inconvenience, but there were times he wished he could.
Strolling leisurely, as if reacquainting himself with the feel of the forest, Ritz came to a stop before a tree that stood out, even among the other giants. He looked up at its massive form, its spreading branches seeming to cover the very sky. After a quick glance around to confirm it was the right one, he gently touched its trunk.
A cool, crisp air enveloped him, different from the warmth he'd expected from the wood. Then, where the thick trunk had been, the wood slowly seemed to melt away, revealing a pair of massive, heavy wooden doors.
He placed his hands on them, and the doors, which looked impossibly heavy, swung open without resistance, welcoming him home. Relieved to have made it back without getting lost, he stepped through the doorway and was immediately enveloped in a brilliant light.
"This is nostalgic..."
As his eyes adjusted, a scene different from the forest he had just left unfolded before him. It was a wide-open space, almost like a plaza, with fewer trees, allowing sunlight to pour down brilliantly. Near the center, a lake shimmered, sparkling blue.
A portion of the seemingly endless dark forest was cloaked in an illusion created by the Clan of Light. Only those who knew the entrance could witness the forest's true form.
The plaza where Ritz now stood was, in a manner of speaking, the entrance to the Clan of Light's village. It would still take some time to reach the actual settlement, but even this plaza alone was picturesque. The green of the trees was so vibrant it almost hurt the eyes, and the lake was as clear as crystal. As the water deepened, it transformed into a beautiful emerald green.
The beauty of the entrance alone was enough to hint at how magnificent the true settlement of the Clan of Light must be.
This area was close to the outside world, so members of the Clan of Light weren't supposed to be here, but there were exceptions to every rule. By the shore of this very lake, closest to the outside, a small house stood, looking almost out of place. Its residents were, of course, members of the Clan of Light.
"I really came back, didn't I..."
Ritz muttered, scratching his head. This lonely little house was his family home. Ritz Alster was, without a doubt, a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old member of the Clan of Light.
But the nostalgia turned heavy as he neared the house. The reason he'd left this forest forty years ago was that he had run away from home. The cause: a massive fight with his father. A ridiculously trivial fight, at that. But the more trivial it was, the more his father would hold a grudge.
Of course, for Ritz, that wasn't the only reason he'd left. It was merely the catalyst. He was already one hundred and ten years old back then. Among the Clan of Light, one hundred was considered an adult, and he had started to question the idea of living with his parents forever. Besides, Ritz's circumstances in Ciedena were far too unusual; he was an outcast among his own people.
That was why he'd begun to vaguely feel that it might be better to try living in the world of humans, whose appearance was closer to his own, rather than clinging to life in the forest.
A forest that was too insular, that scorned him as a heretic. An empty existence where he did nothing but help his father. He'd often sat alone in the treetops, wondering if walking out into the wide world might help him find something—something that could fill the void inside him. He felt so hollow, and the longer he stayed in the forest, the more he was tormented by a loneliness that felt as if his very being was quietly and slowly dying.
But he could never quite find the right trigger to leave. He worried that both the forest and the outside world would be the same, that there would be no place for him anywhere, and the motivation to seek something for himself just wouldn't come.
While he hugged his knees in solitude, being with his family helped distract him. He had even started to resign himself to the idea of slowly fading away like this, halfway to giving up on life.
And that's when the fight happened. The whole thing started because Ritz had carelessly eaten the last slice of his mother's apple tart.
He'd been so seriously, so profoundly agonizing over the meaning of his existence, and the trigger was an apple pie. His relationship with his father, who had always been more of a selfish older brother than a parent, was always contentious.
The apple pie incident was no different. One word led to another, and his father had yelled, "If you weren't here in the first place, I could have eaten that apple pie all by myself! Stop getting in the way of a lovey-dovey couple, you're old enough to know better!" To which he'd retorted, "Fine, I'll leave!"
And so, that was the catalyst for him to leave the forest, but Ritz's life afterward had been tumultuous.
Before he knew it, he'd found himself in the middle of a civil war, meeting all sorts of people and parting with just as many. The greatsword on his back was not just for show.
While he was living out in the world, he never once thought about his father or the apple pie. He'd never even had the time to think about such trivial things. And yet, remembering it now, it seemed so absurd. His father's appearance was the very image of what humans imagined the Spirit Tribe to be. His golden hair, while not long, was as beautiful as silk threads, and his elegant ears had the characteristic shape said to resemble the wings of a butterfly. He was tall and slender, with undeniably handsome features and striking, clear green eyes.
In appearance alone, his father was, without a doubt, a member of the Clan of Light. But his personality was extremely peculiar. The Clan of Light were said to be quiet people who enjoyed conversing with spirits through their beautiful ears and listening to the voice of nature. But his father's ears, while they did hear the voices of spirits, were more often used to listen to interesting or amusing stories from people.
And those green eyes, said to gaze upon truth and reason, were primarily used for admiring his beloved wife and his beloved food—and for snatching food away from his son.
In short, his personality was entirely human. There wasn't a single shred of the Clan of Light in his character.
Of course, there was a reason for this. As a child, he had accidentally wandered out of the forest, couldn't find his way back, and was raised by humans. According to his father, he grew up as part of a poor, large family.
What he learned there were the principles of "survival of the fittest" and "first come, first served"—concepts utterly foreign to the Clan of Light. Perhaps because of this, his father had an obsession with food that could only be described as abnormal. Despite his ridiculously handsome appearance, the words that came out of his mouth were things like, "A grudge over food is a terrifying thing," or "It's food over romance, Ritz." He was completely hopeless.
His father's name was Karl, and he worked as a liaison between the Clan of Light and humans. Because his personality was so peculiar, even after he fortunately found his way back from human society, he couldn't live in the same settlement as the pure-blooded members of the Clan of Light. He, too, had become a heretic in their eyes.
However, since Karl's appearance was indistinguishable from that of a pure-blooded member of the Clan of Light, and he was a spirit user, he wasn't scorned, merely shunned as an eccentric. The Clan of Light had given this heretic, who lived apart from them and continued to interact with humans, the position of liaison and permitted him to live on the shore of this lake, quite far from their settlement.
But Karl had broken another taboo of the Clan of Light: he had taken a woman from the Clan of Darkness as his wife. To the Clan of Light, the Clan of Darkness was a presence to be abhorred. Of course, since the two races were separated by a great mountain range, one in the north of the continent and the other in the south, they had never met before and were never supposed to meet. But by some twist of fate, his wife was a woman who had fled her homeland, crossing the great mountains while on the verge of freezing to death.
Their meeting began when Ciela, nearly dead from the cold, wandered into a small settlement that Karl was involved with. When the appearance of a member of the Clan of Darkness threw the settlement into a panic, Karl rushed in and took Ciela under his protection.
Finding Ciela in a weakened state, Karl wasted no time in bringing her back to this house on the edge of the forest and took care of her.
And that had driven an even greater wedge between Karl and his clan. Unlike the Clan of Light in this forest, the Clan of Darkness had jet-black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, tan skin, and pointed ears. The Clan of Light all despised the Clan of Darkness as a clan that had fallen to darkness. It was true that they followed a unique faith and made their living through assassination and intrigue, but they were a mysterious clan whose purpose and reasons were unknown to anyone. The Clan of Light of Ciedena openly declared her race to be a "defiled race that has fallen to darkness."
Naturally, word that Karl was protecting a member of the Clan of Darkness reached his people, and he was apparently subjected to all sorts of harassment, but Karl paid them no mind. In fact, he'd even threatened to stop negotiating with the humans, which was quite impressive. By that time, trade between the Clan of Light and humans had become commonplace, and if they couldn't purchase supplies from the human side, it would have hindered the clan's way of life.
That woman was Ritz's mother, Ciela, the very person who had baked the apple tart in question. When Ritz was little, Ciela would often sit him on her lap and tell him, "Your father was the winner, you know." But even then, he found it impossible to imagine his father, who competed with his own son like a child, possessing such courage.
Ritz's black hair and dark brown eyes were inherited from his mother. But his skin tone seemed to take more after his father. It had apparently been fair originally, but because he spent so much time outdoors as a child, it was tanned to a wheat color. At first glance, he looked like he was from one of the eastern nations.
Ciela, who had become Karl's wife after all that uproar, had a rather unusual reason for fleeing her homeland. Despite being a high-level spirit user who had never lost a fight against Karl even when they used spirits in their marital quarrels, Ciela's personality was unbecoming of the Clan of Darkness. To put it nicely, she was gentle and easygoing; to put it bluntly, she was a natural airhead.
With a personality like that, she obviously couldn't have survived among the Clan of Darkness. Even Ritz, her own son, could declare with absolute certainty that Ciela was incapable of plotting or scheming.
In other words, both his father and mother were heretics in the eyes of their respective clans. For Ritz, who was raised by such eccentric parents and whose appearance was so far removed from that of the Spirit Tribe, living in this forest was no simple matter.
Before he was even old enough to be fully aware of it, Ritz understood that he was a heretic, a sinner from birth in the eyes of his clan. The hatred and malice directed at him were a constant presence, and he was often injured because of it. To the Clan of Light, a half-breed was an unacceptable existence, and if that half-breed was the child of someone from the abhorred Clan of Darkness, their very existence was something they could not permit.
On top of that, despite being born to parents who were both high-level spirit users from the Clan of Light and the Clan of Darkness, Ritz could not use spirits, nor could he see them or hear their voices. Instead, he had been strong since he was a child, and despite being scrawny, he had never lost a fight. Even in a brawl with human children, he had never lost a one-on-one fight.
He was closer to humans than to the Clan of Light. From the moment he realized that, the Clan of Light became a distant existence for him. It was far easier to live among humans.
Humans came in all shapes and sizes, with various talents and ways of thinking. They were not as uniform as the members of his clan. In the forty years he spent with people from the outside world, he made allies, met a best friend, and even fell in love. For him, humans had become his true companions.
The only problem was that, unlike the Clan of Light, humans had rather short lifespans.
And that was painful for Ritz.
Lost in thought, he found himself at the edge of the lake. Perhaps its nostalgic beauty had drawn him there unconsciously.
He crouched down, scooped up some of the lake water in his hands, and washed his face. The water was quite cold, so crisp and clear that it seemed to instantly lighten his heavy steps.
The physical exhaustion seemed to fade, but his spirits were not so easily lifted. Standing by the lake again brought back the reason he had returned, and it was a painful one.
He was almost home, yet he felt a reluctance to leave this spot. Ritz plopped down, rolled the greatsword off his back, and lay down on his back. Every time the trees swayed in the wind, the dappled sunlight was almost blinding.
"I'm really back..."
Unlike the sigh-filled murmur from before he entered the forest, a deep sense of emotion welled up in his chest, and he couldn't help but say it aloud. No matter how many unpleasant memories it brought back, this was his home. Feeling the beautiful azure birds flying overhead and the rustling of the trees with his whole body, he gently closed his eyes.
The moment he shut out the beauty of the forest from his sight, the forty years he had spent wandering the outside world appeared before him as if they were right in front of him.
Compared to his lifespan, forty years might be as short as the blink of an eye, but he felt they were forty meaningful years filled with an incredible amount of experience. Within those years were packed the lives and deaths of people, human conflict and tragic battlefields, and encounters with trusted friends.
At times he was on the battlefield, at others he traveled the world as an adventurer, and he pushed his body to its limits as a mercenary.
Even in such circumstances, the question he continued to seek an answer for remained unanswered.
His question... was about his excessively long life.
He was of the Clan of Light, yet he possessed none of their traits. What was the purpose of being born, of living, with the long lifespan of his clan? It was an eternal question that had sprouted in his heart at some point.
He spent several years in the Yuresla Kingdom, then wandered from country to country as a mercenary. When he grew tired of the battlefield, he roamed the various nations. Time passed emptily, and no answer was found.
It happened on one such day. On a whim, he left the battlefield as he always did and went to visit the grave of a mentor who had taken care of him long ago. There, he had a strange experience.
The grave, though bathed in the gentle sunlight, stood quietly, seeming almost like an illusion to Ritz's eyes.
When they first met, the man had been a monumental figure, seemingly out of reach. Eventually, he grew old, quietly left the battlefield, and went to his final rest. The man was a mentor and a senior to Ritz. It was through him that Ritz had entered the world of mercenaries.
To a normal human, it was an event from twenty years ago, already an old story. But Ritz stood before the weathered grave, his appearance almost unchanged from the day they had met. A strange emptiness washed over him, as if his present was rapidly flowing into the past. Was the world going to leave him behind as everything else flowed away...?
He felt a sense of listlessness, as if the ground had been pulled out from under him.
It was then that something glinted in front of the grave. There had been nothing there when he arrived, but now, it was definitely there.
For some reason, Ritz knew it had been waiting for him. He unconsciously picked it up. It was a small, round bead, like a crystal. A jewel, perhaps? Or some kind of trinket...
Just then, he thought he heard a voice.
...Find the answer. Your answer...
That was what it had said, he was sure of it.
An answer... Where could it be?
As he wondered, he suddenly thought of his father, who had been raised by humans. Perhaps his father had also stood frozen in a daze like this at some point.
He probably wouldn't find an answer, but maybe he could find a clue. Ritz gently slipped the mysterious bead into his pocket and started walking towards his homeland. Away from the battlefield, he was just a wanderer. He had no particular plans or goals, so it was a leisurely journey.
It had taken him several months to get back here.
But now that he was back, the father he wanted to talk to was in the midst of a petty food war with him. His father was also of the Clan of Light. With his long lifespan, he wouldn't forget something from a mere forty years ago. The thought was depressing. Or rather, it was utterly disheartening.
In this situation, a serious conversation seemed impossible. Cursing his own carelessness for returning without remembering the circumstances, he sighed. Still, he couldn't just turn back after coming all this way.
His parents, both spirit users, had to know he was home. They were probably lying in wait for him. After all, Ritz was their one and only child.
"This is so hard to go back to..."
As he muttered and rolled over, a flash of gold caught the corner of his eye.
Someone's here...!
He shot up, his hand flying to the sword beside him, but he quickly let go. Back when Ritz was a child, it might have been different, but now, there shouldn't be anyone here by the lake who would try to harm him.
If there was, it could only be one person.
"Ritz! Take this!"
He instinctively tried to roll away from the shout, but his opponent was a fraction of a second faster. He took a sharp blow to the back of his head, saw white stars explode before his eyes, and pitched forward. The person had launched a kick at his head from high up in the trees.
"Oww!"
"Bwahahaha! Feel my wrath!"
When Ritz finally managed to push himself up, his eyes were met with the sight of a blond man grinning mischievously while hanging upside down from a tree.
A handsome blond man, hanging from a tree and laughing... It was a bizarre sight, but one that Ritz was used to.
"Dad, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like? Isn't it obvious, you stupid son?"
The creepy upside-down man... Ritz's own father, Karl Alster, seemed extremely pleased with his surprise attack and continued to laugh while hanging there. His face was flushed, suggesting he'd been hanging like that for quite some time.
Was it sheer willpower, or was he just an idiot...?
"Just get down from there, Dad."
"Nope."
"Come on..."
He was more exasperated than angry. To think he had come back with such a heavy heart... he felt like an idiot. He even considered just turning around and leaving the forest again, but leaving over something this ridiculous seemed absurd.
"I finally came home, what's with this?"
He glared at him from close range, but it seemed to have no effect on Karl.
"Because you finally came home, I came out to welcome you. Don't you understand a father's love? You're such a handful."
"What's that supposed to mean, a handful?!"
"You're the handful, aren't you? Ritz, what do you say when you come home?"
Caught off guard by the unexpected counterattack, Ritz faltered for a moment. But Karl questioned him as if he were a small child.
"When you come back home, what's the greeting?"
Understanding what Karl wanted, Ritz felt a brief moment of embarrassment at the words he hadn't spoken in so long. But his father didn't look like he was coming down until he said it.
"...I'm home..."
He muttered it, looking slightly away. It had been forty years since he'd said that to his parents. Ritz let out a long breath. That's right, he thought, I really am back home.
Apparently satisfied with Ritz's words, Karl landed softly from the tree branch without a sound.
"Welcome home... Ritz, who ate my apple pie."
The man was relentless. Averting his gaze from his persistent father, Ritz happened to look towards the house. Standing in the doorway was a woman with beautiful, flowing black hair and tan skin, watching them. It was his mother, Ciela. From the looks of it, she had undoubtedly used her spirits to watch the entire exchange, word for word, with a fond smile.
If you were watching, you could have stopped him, he thought from the bottom of his heart.
Ciela had probably been watching and listening to Ritz through all the spirits ever since he entered the forest, and had told Karl the perfect time to climb the tree.
"Ritz, welcome home."
A quiet voice reached his ears. The wind spirits that were always with her must have carried her voice to him. The voice reached him, but unfortunately, Ritz couldn't even see his mother's spirits.
"I'm back."
As he savored the peaceful atmosphere, the words came from his heart. A feeling like relief, or maybe nostalgia, at being home washed over him.
"Honey, it's Ritz!"
Though it was quickly shattered by his father's triumphant shout.
As he walked behind his father, who strode confidently towards the house, he suddenly wondered if this man ever felt the same anguish over the flow of time as he did. If he did, did Karl keep it all locked away in his heart, never letting anyone sense his past?
Or was he simply forgetful? With this father, that seemed plausible. It was a difficult question.
A sigh escaped his lips. Perhaps hearing it, Karl muttered something just before entering the house, almost to himself, without looking back.
"Humans are fleeting things, aren't they?"
"Huh? What was that?"
The sudden question made Ritz look up.
"Hey, Dad?"
"I'm hoooome, Honey!"
Without answering Ritz's question, Karl gave Ciela a light kiss on the cheek as she stood there and cheerfully went inside. He could hear Ciela's voice from inside, but Ritz just stood there, frozen.
"Humans are fleeting things, aren't they?"
Karl's murmur struck a painful chord in his chest.
II
As the forest began to darken into twilight, the table in the Alster home was adorned with a feast so lavish you'd think they knew Ritz was coming.
Or rather, there was enough food for an entire squad. A large platter was piled high with simmered potatoes, a huge pot was filled to the brim with corn soup, there was a mountain of salad that seemed to say "eat up," and another basket was overflowing with bread.
And for tonight's dessert: apple tart.
Ritz, who had gone up to his room to unpack his travel gear and taken a refreshing bath—in a tub his father had built, a luxury only their family possessed in the clan—came downstairs and stared at the dinner in utter shock.
"Mom, are we going to eat all of this?"
"That's right. I made a lot since it's been a while, so please eat until your stomach bursts."
When his mother said it so cheerfully, he had no choice but to eat. He sat down at the table, stunned, and sighed. Right, this is what our house was like, he remembered, and the thought was almost comical.
"Hey Ritz, what happened to your hair?"
Ciela asked abruptly as she took off her apron and sat down across from him.
"My hair?"
He instinctively touched his head. It was just wet from the bath; there didn't seem to be anything strange on it.
"See, there's one lock in the back that's longer than the rest. It's a little unusual."
At her words, Ritz took hold of the long strand of hair at the back of his head.
"Oh, this."
"Is it in style?"
"Not really. You know how I can't see spirits? I thought if I grew it out like you, Mom, maybe I'd be able to see something."
In his own way, Ritz was bothered by the fact that he couldn't see spirits despite having two excellent spirit users for parents. Not that he had any intention of growing out all of his unruly hair. As a last resort, he had started growing out this one lock at the back.
The rest of his hair was coarse and cut haphazardly, but this one long section was glossy and black. It was straight, just like his mother's. Ciela's hair was currently tied up, but when let down, its straight, flowing strands shone like polished jet. So he had tried growing out this one lock, but it wasn't like something so simple would let him see spirits. By now, the hair had become his trademark, and he'd given up on it bringing him any divine favor.
"Oh my, and did you see any spirits?"
Ciela asked with a gentle smile. Ritz just shrugged.
"Nope, not a single one."
"Oh, my. Hehehe."
As always, Ciela laughed her light, tinkling laugh. Even for Ritz, who had fought against the Clan of Darkness as a mercenary, his mother was still an enigma.
As the sun set and it grew dark, Ciela stood up and looked at the unlit lamp.
"It's getting a little dark, let's turn on a light."
She clasped her hands in front of her.
"Oh, spirits of flame, would you please share a little light for our family's dinner table?"
As if in answer to Ciela's voice, the room filled with a warm light. It sounded like a simple request, but she had summoned a Fire Spirit to light the large lamp hanging from the ceiling. She was skilled at manipulating spirits. While Karl could only use a limited number of spirits, she could command most types. Talking with spirits, getting a spark for cooking, getting help with the dishes, sending her voice to people far away—these were her specialties.
She didn't seem to like rougher techniques like creating tornadoes or throwing fireballs; Ritz had only ever seen her use them during her dynamic, large-scale fights with Karl. And even then, her powerful skills were limited to two types of spirits. Ciela was originally a user of wind and earth spirits. Incidentally, Karl was also a wind user, so a fight between the two of them was a clash of tornadoes.
For Ritz, who had grown up watching Ciela, seeing her casually use spirits for household chores was normal. But after leaving home for forty years and meeting various other spirit users, seeing it again, he couldn't help but be impressed by her power.
He'd learned after leaving home that for most people, it was all they could do to summon one type of spirit they had a contract with. Just summoning a single spirit required a considerable amount of mental energy.
But Ciela didn't seem to think it was anything special.
"Everything's ready. All that's left is for my darling to arrive."
Ciela announced to Ritz with a smile, and as if on cue, Karl arrived and took his seat happily.
"What a feast tonight, Honey! I'm so happy!"
The ever-voracious Karl's eyes sparkled as he gazed at the table. For him, who had grown up in a poor family, eating was the joy of life. It was truly infuriating. What would the humans who called his people the Spirit Tribe and held beautiful fantasies about them say if they saw this?
"I'm glad you're happy. Well then, let's eat."
Ciela, for her part, just smiled as if it were the most normal thing in the world. With her black hair and tan skin, she would be an object of fear in any country, but if they saw her like this, Ritz thought, everyone's perceptions would surely change.
"Alright, let's eat."
Lost in thought, Ritz was pulled back to a reality he'd rather not have remembered by that one phrase. Dinner in the Alster household was always a brutal affair. In this house, even though the food was served on large platters, only Ciela used a serving plate. The father and son had to fight for their share directly from the platters.
Karl's educational philosophy was to learn the harshness of survival through food, and it had caused him no end of trouble as a child. When he finally realized this dinner scene was not normal, he had been shocked and, at the same time, exasperated by his father's abnormal appetite.
"What's wrong, Ritz? If you're not going to eat, I will."
His words snapped Ritz back to reality. If he dallied, there really would be nothing left. At first, having forgotten the tempo, Ritz couldn't quite get into the swing of things. But as Karl snatched away every morsel he tried to take, he finally got fired up.
"Why do you always take what I'm about to grab, Dad?!"
"It's your fault for being too slow, Ritz-kun."
"You bastard!"
And so, the same old battle for food began. Ciela, having secured her own portion on her plate, watched the scene with a fond smile.
"You two get along so well, Ritz and my darling."
"Of course we do."
"No, we don't!"
And so, their dinner time passed by boisterously.
After a little over an hour, once the apple tart was gone, a sudden quiet fell over the table. The final slice this time was settled when Ritz magnanimously gave it to Karl. He had no desire to fight over an apple tart again. Being unable to return home because of that was just too embarrassing for an adult.
"Three hours to make, gone in an instant."
Ciela said as she cleared the plates and disappeared into the kitchen. In this house, washing dishes was her job, and the job of the water spirits. Ciela was always surrounded by spirits, even when she didn't call them. That, too, was a kind of unique trait. It was apparently one of the reasons she had fled the Clan of Darkness.
She had told him with a laugh that thanks to the spirits always being with her, she'd managed to avoid doing anything bad. In other words, any plots or schemes she might have had would have been leaked by her spirits.
As he vaguely recalled this, listening to the sound of dishes being washed, it felt as if his time in the outside world had been a dream. With a full stomach, all his blood had gone to his gut, and thinking felt like too much effort.
Lost in thought, Ritz suddenly became aware of Karl's gaze. Come to think of it, he usually got up to help Ciela, but today he was still here, unusually. His gaze seemed to be trying to say something, and it was so quiet that Ritz felt as if his own feelings had been seen through.
"Ritz, how about a walk?"
Eventually, as if shaking something off, Karl invited Ritz out. Of course, Ritz had no objection. He nodded silently and stood up on a body heavy from overeating. Karl, in the meantime, went to the kitchen. A cheerful voice drifted out.
"Honey, I'm going for a walk with Ritz! It's a man-to-man talk, so no using spirits to eavesdrop, okay?"
"I won't, have a good time. If you feel like talking, tell me about it later, too."
His mother's voice reached Ritz's ears clearly. When would he be able to tell Ciela about all the things he had experienced? Right now, Ritz felt it would be far too embarrassing.
As he was thinking that, Karl was suddenly beside him.
"Well then, shall we go?"
"Yeah."
Stepping out from the warmth of the house, a clear, cold wind brushed against their cheeks. The unique, crisp scent of the night tickled his nose. Dew had settled on the grass underfoot, cold and damp against his boots.
Thanks to the moon illuminating the forest, they didn't have to worry about tripping or falling. The Ciedena Forest at night was a world of silence, ruled by an azure darkness. It had probably been forty years since he had been in a place so quiet, so devoid of the scent of human life.
This forest was a different world from the one outside. The only connections to the outside were Karl, Ciela, and Ritz's memories. What a fragile feeling.
They walked side by side without exchanging a word. Walking like this felt like returning to the past. His father hadn't changed at all from when he'd left. Forty years or so was not enough time to change either of them much. The time flowing here would never leave Ritz behind.
After walking through the forest for a while, they came to a sudden clearing. There was a large rock, big enough for five or six people to sit on, and through a gap in the trees, the lake was beautifully visible. It was Ritz's favorite spot when he lived in the forest.
As an existence despised by the clan, Ritz had spent a lot of time here. What should I do next time I go to the outside world? What part of the city should I explore? Hugging his knees and thinking about such things was his greatest pleasure.
They sat down on the rock side by side, both looking away, waiting for the other to speak. The ripples on the lake's surface shone brilliantly in the blue light of the moon.
After some time had passed, it was Karl who finally spoke, his voice quiet.
"You know, Ritz."
His father's voice was so different from usual, as quiet as the moonlit surface of the water, that Ritz looked up at him. Karl wasn't looking at Ritz either. His eyes seemed to be gazing at a distant time, long past, and were strangely clear. Was the loneliness in those eyes the same as what Ritz felt now?
Ritz waited silently for his father's next words.
"When I was little, I was a rather curious child. I couldn't be satisfied unless I saw things with my own two eyes."
Karl began to tell a story Ritz had only ever heard in jest before—the true story of his past.