bookpub Chapter 24: The Sinner of Blackthorn (2)
Chapter 24: The Sinner of Blackthorn (2)
Isaac’s memories of being turned into a vassal are brief.
There hasn’t been much re
Pollu’s voice brims with bitterness, raw self-loathing pouring out like filth.
Isaac has seen this kind of naked emotion before—through Alois.
And now Pollu is reminding him of it all over again.
Civilized reason, shaped by a life philosophy.
Common sense, instilled through education.
Once those are stripped away, all that’s left is raw jealousy and desire—Pollu in his barest form.
“I could’ve done it too, if I had Silverna with me! I could’ve done it, if I’d had the Helmut family’s support! I know! I already know! The truth is, I couldn’t have done it anyway! Right! I’m useless! I hate holding a sword! I know I’m jealous! I know it’s pathetic!”
His tongue feels punctured—
That’s how apt the metaphor is.
He’s pouring out words he should’ve kept inside,
Against his own will.
His mind realizes only after the words spill out: I shouldn’t have answered that.
“I’m sorry, Mother! I’m sorry, Father! I’m… I’m a sinner! Aaaaargh! I’m a sinnerrrr!”
“Hmm.”
Watching Pollu pound on his chest, Sharen furrows her brow.
“He looks… pitiful.”
Isaac slowly raises his sword.
“You say you’re a sinner?”
“Yeah, I’m a sinner!”
When asked a question, he answers—
This is exactly how Isaac intends to exploit Pollu’s forced vassal state.
“Why? Why are you a sinner?”
“Because I’m ignorant! I’m stupid! I’m lazy! I’m not qualified! No, no! I shouldn’t answer!”
When he hears a question, Pollu thinks of an answer—and spits it out before realizing he shouldn’t speak.
“The transcendent your family’s tied to placed a curse on you.”
“A transcendent? A curse? I don’t know! Aargh! Don’t answer, don’t answer!”
“It’s a curse called a ‘vassalization ritual.’ Don’t you recall when it happened?”
“Vassalization? I don’t know! I said I don’t—ah, was it then?”
“Then?”
“That time! The time I was pretending to be asleep! Mother came in and did something to me! Th-There was someone I’d never seen before standing next to her!”
Remembering that moment, Pollu clutches his head, screaming.
“It hurt! It hurt so bad! Something was carved into my chest! That stranger could see I wasn’t actually asleep—he knew I was still awake!”
“But I stayed still! I kept my mouth shut! Because that’s what Mother wanted! She wanted to use me for something! Mother! Aaah! My mother! Noooo! Stop talking! It’s supposed to be a secret!”
-Bang! Bang! Bang!
Pollu pounds his forehead against the ground, begging himself not to speak. Yet the words keep pouring out.
“I’m a sinner! I’m a sinner! This is my atonement! Mother! Father! Aaargh! I’m the sinner of the Blackthorn!”
Swish.
Isaac calmly moves toward him.
Pollu shudders, then lets out a rough cough.
“Take one more step, and I’ll kill you! The Yeeti—it’ll be here any seco—!”
Thud!
A flurry of snow scatters.
A Yeti, run clean through the heart by Silverna’s spear, crashes to its knees.
“Nooo! The Yeti! No! Silverna is a beauty! Aaargh! Isaaac! Am I… am I going to die?!”
“…I’m afraid so.”
Looking pained, Isaac stands before him.
Pollu staggers upright, weapon at the ready.
“Fine, kill me! Put me down! I’m a sinner, after all! I couldn’t fulfill Mother and Father’s wishes! I couldn’t do anything right! Aaargh! I’m a sinner! I have to die for my sins!”
Just then—
“I’m gonna catch you off-guard!”
Pollu’s sword flashes, a final desperate slash.
Flickers of black aura swirl, adding force to his last strike—
“Kk-uhhk?!”
—but it only carves empty air.
By the time he realizes, Isaac has already ducked low and thrust the Falchion blade right back into Pollu’s chest.
The blade wedges into the old wound, where the bone is embedded.
“Kkeuaaaaargh!”
As Pollu tries to scramble away again, Isaac releases the Falchion, seizes the protruding bone with both hands, and—
Puuuuuk!
When Pollu jerks his body backward to flee, the bone lodged in his heart gets torn out. Strength drains from him.
“Gugh! Guhh…?!”
Pollu gasps raggedly.
The black aura, caught in the swirling snow of the North, disperses like a cleansing wind.
Left in its wake, Pollu stares upward in shock.
“H-How… how did you…?”
He wants to ask how Isaac foresaw his final move.
Putting down the bone, Isaac answers bitterly.
“You still tried to use the Blackthorn swordsmanship to the very end.”
Somewhere within him, Pollu desperately wanted praise.
He yearned to be recognized by his mother and father.
He longed to be deemed worthy.
He wanted their love.
That wish to cling to the Blackthorn techniques, even in a hopeless fight—
that’s precisely what gave Isaac the chance to pierce Pollu’s heart.
“Hah… hahah… hahahahah.”
Tears falling, Pollu lifts his gaze to the white sky.
Still reeling from the aftereffects, he speaks his heart:
“I really… hate wielding a sword.”
“….”
“It’s scary. I’m so scared—scared of having to muster courage.”
“….”
“I used to love cooking. I remember how excited I was when a chef taught me to pack a lunch box for the first time…”
“….”
“But I couldn’t allow it! I had to wield a sword! I couldn’t let myself enjoy something trivial like cooking! Curse me! I curse my own useless self!”
“I’m sorry, Mother. Father. I… I never should have been born into the Blackthorn.”
“It’s all my fault. I… I’ve sinned.”
Isaac approaches Pollu, kneeling on one knee in front of him.
“Learning to accept differences—it took me ages to do that as well.”
“I… I’m a sinner…”
“In that case, I’m a sinner, too.”
“Y-You?”
Pollu’s voice is faint, on the brink of letting go.
Right before his life slips away—
“I want… to live.”
Pollu sheds tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“I… I want… to live…”
“If it helps comfort you, even a little—”
“I… want… to… live…”
“I promise I’ll find whoever did this to you and make them pay for it.”
At those words,
Pollu’s eyes go wide.
He realizes exactly who is responsible
for making him this way:
The Blackthorn family.
Had he been his old self, he’d have declared he must protect his parents, protect his family name, no matter what.
But—
As a vassalized Pollu, with his true feelings stripped bare—
“Thank you.”
He smiles.
Fixing his eyes on that snowy northern sky, Pollu passes away.
***
Reflecting on again,
[Are you kidding me? You can’t even do this? Do you plan to live in disgrace of our family?!]
The boy’s “crime”
was simply having no interest in the sword.
[Why are you so weak-minded? Are you trying to tarnish our family’s name? How do you ever plan on receiving them like this—?!]
Another of the boy’s “crimes”
was that he lacked courage in the face of intimidation.
[You want to cook? You want praise? Look at this lunatic! Somebody bring a cane right now!]
He liked cooking,
and wanted to show off what he made.
That was also deemed a “crime.”
[Why would a child like you… Haah… A brat who should’ve been born in some slum ended up in my womb—.]
And perhaps his greatest “crime”
was being born here, in the Blackthorn, without knowing his place.
But in truth—
The boy never did anything wrong.
– – – The End of The Chapter – – –
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