Chapter 3: Bibo (3)
A profound sorrow and despair, so deep it was almost chilling, lay within. If such feelings permeated every letter in this box, then it was no wonder she felt this way.
Ariel was stunned.
“Ayn…?”
Did you feel this way? What caused you to feel such despair? Why didn’t you show any of it to me?
Her younger brother had always been a source of strength, smiling warmly around her. Even in his letters, he had never shown this level of darkness. Ariel never imagined he could harbor such emotions.
“Ah.”
A sudden realization struck her mind like lightning. There was something—something simple, really—that could plunge a soldier like him into such profound despair.
Death.
‘Then, could it be…?’
Ariel’s hand tightened around the letter, trembling. She hastily tore open the envelope and unfolded its contents. The letter seemed to wail in sorrow. Unconsciously, tears filled her eyes, spilling onto the letter as she began to read.
「September 23, 1789. To my beloved Rel, my dear sister.」
The letter opened with the usual date, affectionate greetings, and her nickname. It was indeed meant for her.
But the content that followed was nothing like his usual letters.
Typically, Aynkel’s letters brimmed with ordinary updates, joyful moments, and small jokes to make her smile. Even when expressing dissatisfaction, it was only ever hinted at lightly, suggesting mere minor inconveniences.
But this time…
「I want to quit… If I’d known it’d be like this, I wouldn’t have come…」
The letter conveyed despair, fear, and sorrow that surpassed even the sobbing voice that seemed to resonate from it. His words, disjointed and scattered, began with, ‘If I die this time…’, and continued with every negative emotion he’d buried while constantly stepping onto the battlefield.
Reading it, Ariel felt as if she were suffocating, the despair pressing on her chest as tears rolled down her face.
Until now, when reading his letters, she’d simply thought of her younger brother as someone grown-up, mature enough to hide minor feelings for her sake. She hadn’t imagined he’d been battling such terrible, suffocating darkness alone.
The letter’s final lines were its most sorrowful climax.
「But this letter won’t reach you, Sister. As I say every time, I hope you never have to read this. I’d never willingly send it, so if you ever see this letter, it means I’ve died in the army…」
What must he have felt, writing a letter he could never send, caught between the desire to be understood and the hope that she’d remain unaware?
And Ariel realized, or rather, she faced the truth.
“Ayn, you really…”
You’re gone.
The moment she acknowledged it, reality crashed over her like a storm. She was no longer a mere spectator; the dark emotions that had belonged to someone else now bloomed within her. Her overflowing emotions spilled into her tears. Her red eyes shimmered like flames in the wind as the tears filled them.
“Really, truly…”
The words fell apart, scattering into the air. Ariel gave up speaking altogether, closing her mouth tightly as she simply gazed at the vision of her brother’s face, blurred by her tears.
It was as though he was gradually moving away.
A quiet sob escaped Ariel’s lips, breaking the dam she had tried to hold back. Her shoulders shook as she pressed her face into the letter.
The dam of restrained emotion finally burst, and with it came the raw, heart-wrenching sounds of grief.
Why had she assumed he’d be fine, just because he looked bright? Why hadn’t she, as his older sister, looked back even once? Why hadn’t she asked, just once?
No, if she’d just stopped him when he wanted to enlist, none of this would have happened. If she’d shown more strength, maybe he wouldn’t have had to carry it alone.
It’s all my fault.
Everything turned into guilt, weighing down on her heart.
Ariel cried and cried, overwhelmed by her emotions, until she eventually collapsed from exhaustion, unable to stop her sobbing.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
After receiving news of her brother’s death, Ariel was granted a week’s leave from Tarantella.
During that time, she curled up in her home, reading and re-reading Aynkel’s letters that now felt like a will. She cried over them until she would unknowingly fall asleep, exhausted.
In her dreams, Aynkel appeared, radiant as the sun, smiling at her with a gentle voice. He’d tell her to be well and would then be swallowed by shadows.
Save me, his desperate voice, laced with tears, haunted her even in her dreams. That sorrowful cry jolted her awake, and she’d search for his letters again, repeating the cycle of grief.
Days passed, and Ariel cried until she felt like every ounce of moisture had left her body.
Naturally, she hadn’t been eating much, and she lost five kilograms in a week. When her leave ended, though still drowning in despair, Ariel went back to work on instinct, hardened by years of social obligation. The first thing that greeted her at work was the equipment logbook.
[Ariel, is that really you?]
“Yes, it’s me.”
[Oh my goodness, look at you! You’ve lost so much weight!]
Another week passed.
Throughout that week, her friend Karma, a fellow librarian, tried endlessly to get her to eat, finally bringing her porridge in a thermos. Karma slammed the thermos onto Ariel’s desk, her tone as rough as her gesture.
“Rel, let’s eat. If you keep not eating, you’ll seriously die. The living have to keep living.”
“Sorry, I just… don’t feel like eating.”
“Ugh, you stubborn girl. How are you even working? Here, just eat this. I’m going to die just watching you.”
“I’m fine…”
“Fine, my foot. Have you looked in a mirror? No way you’d say that if you saw yourself. Think your brother would want to see you like this? Just take it, would you?”
Karma shoved the thermos into Ariel’s hand, her concern clear. Unwilling to ignore her friend’s care entirely, Ariel finally accepted it, her expression reluctant. Karma let out a short laugh.
“Look at me, babysitting a witch representative. And all I get is a sour face for it—hah.”
I’m so lucky, really. Karma clicked her tongue, her gaze sharp, like a well-honed blade. Feeling unable to meet her friend’s intense gaze, Ariel looked away, expression frail.
Seeing this, Karma’s expression softened. She swallowed the words she wanted to say with a quiet sigh.
“Just… you’ll really die if you don’t eat anything. Just a little, okay?”
With that parting remark, she muttered a spell and vanished. It was a move to signal she wouldn’t take any more protests. Casting spells with only an incantation was impossible for most magicians, but Karma was far from ordinary. She wasn’t a representative of the nation’s five elder council witches for nothing.
“She’s really relentless.”
Ariel mumbled to herself, looking at the spot her friend had disappeared from. Despite the complaint, her face seemed a little softer than before.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Time moved on, with no mercy for Ariel’s inability to adjust.
December 22, 1789. Near the end of the year, it was a clear day with freezing air.
Arriving at work as usual, Ariel noticed the lights were already on in the library, which should have been dark and empty. The curiosity didn’t last long. Her weakened mind was no longer as sharp. She walked further in, deciding it’d be easier to see it for herself.
Two voices argued nearby: one in her head, belonging to a book, and the other a person’s.
[What? Why are you here? It’s not your day! Where’s Rel?]
“Shut up and get back to your place before I turn you into a fried chicken!”
[You’re such a bully! Always threatening! I really hate you!]
“Do you ever listen when I speak nicely? Look, it’s a mess since you aren’t here on your usual day.”
[Ugh, you’re so mean!]
The voice and tone were familiar to Ariel. She followed it.
In the far right corner, by the windowed bookshelf, was exactly who she’d expected to find—a tall woman with long red hair. In her hand was a book bound in jade-green fabric with golden patterns, flapping about.
“Karma?”
The woman’s shoulders flinched. Ariel frowned and approached her.
“Karma, it’s not your shift today, is it?”
“Huh?”
Karma turned, surprised, and their eyes met. Karma’s steely gray eyes grew wide, as if she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to.
