Chapter 2: Is This Possession or Reincarnation (1) |
***
"Ugh!"
Barely stifling a scream, I opened my eyes in bed.
A cold sweat trickled down my back.
My heart was hammering against my ribs.
A small, trembling hand clutched my chest.
'I think... I had a terrible Nightmare.'
But I couldn't remember it.
I would occasionally have these kinds of Nightmares.
I had tried to write down the contents of the dream as soon as I woke up, but it was never very effective.
In the end, I shook my head and gave up.
A dream is just a dream, after all.
I got out of bed and looked out the window.
Bright morning sunlight was pouring in.
'…How many days has it been since the Godfather rose from his sickbed.'
Quinine.
The Malaria Cure I created.
Thanks to the medicine's effectiveness, the Godfather made a safe recovery.
And in return, the Godfather was helping me with the sales of Quinine.
The Quinine, which began selling under the Godfather's name, soon reached the ears of The Military.
And a few days ago.
I signed a contract through the trading company to supply them with Quinine.
'Today was the day the results would come in.'
Recalling this, I stood in front of the mirror.
Standing before the mirror, I saw a gloomy boy with a face that looked like it had seen the end of the world.
Unfamiliar black hair with a blueish sheen like a crow's feather.
Beneath it, cold, gray-blue eyes.
Drooping eyelids over half-closed eyes.
As I tidied the boy's messy hair in the mirror, I tried to guess what my persona in the Original Work might have been.
'Based on looks alone, I must have been a quiet and gentlemanly character in the Original Work.'
Perhaps a dignified, graceful Genius Character with a tragic Backstory.
Or not.
Anyway, I decided to build Yulian's Persona in that direction.
A calm, gentle character who always speaks softly, like a Church Oppa.
'…Good. This should be enough.'
Having done this since I was four, it had practically become second nature.
I put on a face that was somewhat gloomy yet hadn't lost its kindness, and turned away from the mirror.
Just as I finished my routine in front of the mirror and was changing my clothes.
Knock, knock.
A knock came from outside the door.
"Young Master, did you sleep well?"
It was the Head Butler's voice.
"Yes, I'm awake."
"The Family Head is waiting for you in his Office. He asked if you would stop by before your meal."
The Office, first thing in the morning.
I had a feeling what it was about.
It had been a few months since I started selling Quinine with the Godfather's help.
It was about time for the results to start coming in.
"I understand. I'll be right there."
*
The Godfather treats me like a real son.
Of course, he sent me to the Annex with only a single butler to attend to me, leaving me practically neglected, but...
Still, as his dead friend's son, he buys the books I ask for and gives me a sufficient Allowance.
A Young Master living in the Capital Area, receiving all the mandatory education, with a steady Allowance coming in?
At this point, there's no doubt the Godfather sees me as a real son.
Or not.
Moving on.
The Godfather had summoned me to his Office in the Main Building.
When I opened the Office door and went inside, I saw the Godfather sitting at his Desk and the Head Butler standing guard by his side.
He still looked gaunt, as if the aftereffects of Malaria remained.
Or maybe it was related to what I overheard the Godmother muttering in front of the Godfather's door the other day, about how having only one child was worrisome.
"Yulian. It's about that medicine you made."
"Yes, you mean the Quinine?"
"Yes. About your request to supply Quinine to The Military at a cheap price. I have something to say about that matter."
"Yes. What is it?"
"The orders from The Military came in much larger than expected."
The Godfather picked up a document from his Desk.
The number written there was... one, two, three, four...
Oh my. How many digits is this?
I thought I'd earn a lot, but this is beyond my imagination.
With this much, couldn't I live off the interest for the rest of my life?
'Isn't it a good thing if there are this many orders?'
Why would this be a problem?
Could it be that The Military is trying to seize the Patent Right?
As I was worrying about that, the Godfather continued.
"If we accept all of this as is, you'll suffer a significant loss on the share you're supposed to receive. How about you reconsider?"
Aha. So this was about the Dividend.
"Must you really reduce your share?"
“...”
Actually, when I first introduced this medicine, I made a deal with the trading company.
In exchange for giving up a portion of my Dividend, we would sell it to Soldiers for half price.
"Of course, in places like a Demonic Realm, mosquitoes kill as many Soldiers as Demonic Beasts do. I almost died myself. But I wonder if this is truly necessary."
"Godfather. But if the medicine is too expensive, the Soldiers can't afford it. Not all Soldiers are nobles, you know."
“...”
"The trading company said they can't lower the price any further, so I have to be the one to give something up."
A Soldier's monthly salary is meager no matter what world or country you're in.
They said the cost of Quinine was quite a burden.
So I made this deal to build a favorable image with the Soldiers.
'I can make money later. With Quinine, I need to build my image first.'
My goal isn't to be some rich Nouveau Riche.
Since I've become the Protagonist anyway, my goal is to become the greatest Doctor in the Empire's History, one who will be remembered forever.
'And Soldiers never forget the people who were good to them.'
Me looking for the same razor after getting out of the Republic of Korea Army is proof of that.
To be honest, it was probably just because I was used to it.
'And this is what a Protagonist should do.'
Besides, in a Misunderstanding Genre story, doing things that don't make money often leads to making more money.
This choice, too, will eventually result in a greater profit.
"It's alright. Please proceed as planned."
"Yulian. You might not realize it because you're still young, but two percent of the share is by no means a small amount. You might regret this later."
"It's alright. Money can be earned later, but a person's life cannot."
“...”
The Godfather was momentarily at a loss for words.
The hand of the Head Butler standing beside him, holding a Notebook, also seemed to freeze.
'I think that landed pretty well, right?'
But the silence lasted longer than I expected.
Is their admiration that profound?
To give them enough time to savor their emotions, I waited calmly for them.
Finally, the Godfather took off his Eyeglasses, pressed his eyelids gently, and let out a sigh.
"...Alright. We'll proceed as planned."
"Thank you."
"You may leave now. Study hard today as well."
"Then I'll take my leave."
I bowed respectfully to the Godfather and walked toward the door.
"Ah, Yulian."
Just as I was about to place my hand on the Doorknob, the Godfather called out to stop me.
"It's your Birthday today, isn't it? Happy 10th Birthday. Tell me if there's anything you want."
When I turned around, the Godfather was smiling faintly.
Those words sounded familiar.
I couldn't quite remember.
"...Thank you."
I didn't try to grasp the feeling that something was about to surface.
Instead, I bowed my head once more and left the room.
As I walked, I suddenly remembered where I had heard those words.
'Come to think of it... I think it might be related to the Nightmare I had this morning...'
But as if shrouded in a thick Mist, the contents of the dream refused to become clear.
I shook my head and quickened my pace.
I had a lot to do after creating Quinine.
I wasn't idle enough to dwell on a dream.
'A dream is just a dream, after all.'
And from that day on, I no longer had Nightmares.
▽▽▽
This is a forgotten, or perhaps, a fated story.
▽▽▽
There once was a boy.
Who wanted to be the sun, who wanted to be loved, who wanted to save the world.
The boy was once called a Prodigy.
For he shone brighter than anyone at the twilight of the world.
Until then, the boy believed he was a star.
He believed that one day he would rise to the high heavens.
But shining first didn't mean he would rise higher.
As the night deepened and the stars climbed to the zenith of the sky, the boy merely lingered in the grass.
While the boy wandered through the grass, countless stars used him as a stepping stone to reach the sky.
The Star of the Sword, the Star of Magic, the Star of Divinity...
Countless Heroes stepped on the boy to rise, and with each one, another scar appeared on his body.
And only after the greatest Adventurer stepped on him, breaking his wings and shoving him into the mud, did the boy realize.
That he was not the sun, nor the moon, nor a star.
He was a lowly winged insect that could only shine by borrowing the darkness of the night.
The sacrifice of the first act, tasked with the mission of Downfall to show how high the real stars were.
A fake genius meant to serve as a measure for the height of the fall.
He was the 「Firefly」.
*
In a Firefly's Grave, where not even starlight reached.
The Firefly cried out from that place with a broken voice.
"Oh God. What sin have I possibly committed!?"
The world was cruel to the Firefly.
The parents who should have given him love passed away before he could even form memories.
The new parents who tried to give him love passed away before they could even bestow it.
And to the falling boy, no one gave any love.
It was as if the world itself wished for the boy's misfortune.
"Was my very existence a sin?"
The heavens did not answer.
The Firefly lowered his head and looked at what he had left.
All he had left was a single Revolver and one cheap Lead Bullet.
With his wounded body and such a weapon, it was doubtful he could even rob a Bakery.
He instinctively knew this was a revelation.
That this was the world's last ounce of Mercy, a single shot to end this endless suffering.
The boy opened the Cylinder and, with his dirt-stained hands, pushed the Bullet into it.
And with a trembling hand, he brought the Gun Muzzle to his temple.
"Haa..."
The boy caught his breath and thought.
If there was someone left in this world who loved him.
What would they have said to him?
After much deliberation, the boy muttered the words he wanted to hear.
"Happy 10th Birthday... Yulian."
Bang—!
◆
