Chapter 06: “Echoes of Remembrance or the Lost Rhythm”
The sunrise streaming through the window of the medical wing was a vivid‚ almost poisonous shade of orange.
As if washing away the storm-like despair of last night‚ the room was silent. Only one thing remained— the pocket watch placed beside the bed‚ my other half that Kotone had transformed into a “Remaining Life Counter‚” relentlessly marking time with a merciless rhythm.
“89 days 21 hours 32 minutes 11 seconds”
The blood-red numbers burned into my retinas and refused to fade.
Ton ton ton ton.
My fingertips tapping on my knees were dragged by impatience‚ beating out a hoarse rhythm that had lost its true pulse.
(...Can I save her? In less than ninety days. With my theory. Even though I’m the one who shaved away her life.)
I was just about to sink into the swamp of my thoughts when—
“Here you go‚ Aria! Your morning ‘Fivefold Pursuit Miso Soup’! I’ll smack your brain cells awake with salt!”
The door burst open and Linne appeared‚ clutching a thermos.
Without waiting for my reply‚ she poured a black liquid into the cup provided in the room. It had already lost the dignity of being called a liquid— the miso that had sunk under its own weight had thickened to the point where even a spoon refused to move through it.
“...Linne. That color first thing in the morning feels less like salvation and more like a physical attack.”
“What are you talking about? Your face looked like ‘a rag hung out to dry yesterday.’ Come on‚ drink up!”
The violent saltiness scorched my throat and dragged me back into being “human.”
Seeing that powerful anchor of life pull me back‚ Linne let out a small sigh of relief.
But in the next moment‚ with the quiet care of someone handling a precious secret‚ she gently took out a sewing kit.
After taking out the kit‚ Linne quietly sat down beside me.
Her movement was different from her usual brightness.
It was careful—like touching something that was about to break.
In this world‚ cloth exposed to magical residue tends to weaken in its fibers.
And my body constantly seeps out tiny remnants even when I’m not fighting.
Weak points like cuffs easily begin to fray before you even notice.
“...Aria‚ here. Look‚ it’s fraying again.”
What she pointed to with her finger was the cuff of my jacket.
But the tone of her voice seemed to be looking not at the cloth— but at my heart.
Linne adjusted the needle and gently placed her hand against my sleeve.
As she carefully began to move the needle‚ her fingertips trembled faintly each time they scooped the fabric.
That trembling drew close to the “ton ton” rhythm that had been scattered on my knees—
as if searching for the same beat somewhere.
(...Is she matching my rhythm?)
“You know‚ Aria... you push yourself in places like this way too easily.”
Each time the needle passed through‚ her breath trembled softly.
That warmth seeped gently through the fabric.
“You know‚ when cloth starts to fray‚ if you leave it alone‚ it just keeps spreading.
...Hearts are the same.”
I lost my words.
“So for now‚ this is enough.
I’ll stitch your ‘fray’ in place‚ just a little.”
Linne’s voice was far warmer than the miso soup.
It wasn’t simply “everyday life”—
it felt like the quiet body heat of a prayer‚ meant to keep me from collapsing.
The moment the needle finished the final stitch‚
my “ton ton” seemed to quietly fall into sync for just one beat.
The scent of the sea breeze gently pushed open the lid of memory.
Ten years ago.
At the seaside where I was staying to recuperate—there had been a girl whose face and name I can’t remember.
But I remember her “light.”
The golden resonance that spilled from her fingertips (pwan).
That mysterious warmth that tickled deep inside my chest.
(...Iris? No‚ that’s impossible.
But this feeling... somewhere... )
The dream began replaying a scene I should have forgotten.
“Hey‚ look‚ Aria! I did a ‘kyun’ really well again today!”
A girl laughing as the sea breeze fluttered her white dress and swayed her straw hat.
In her hair was tied a slightly faded but carefully maintained yellow ribbon.
(...That color... why does it make my chest feel so restless?
Even the voice is clear‚ yet I can’t remember who she is.)
“...Kyun? Mom said magic comes from construction formulas and calculations.”
“Flowers bloom even without definitions.
Your head is clattering like gears and way too stiff‚ Aria!”
When the girl flicked her fingertip‚ a flower of light bloomed on the sand with a “pwan” and vanished.
Back then‚ I wasn’t yet just a machine tracing Mother’s “precise score (melody).”
The pulse Father used to tap on my back between lessons—ton ton ton ton.
The roots of my rhythm definitely came from Father’s “beat.”
“...Alright then. I’ll show you my magic too.
I’ll mix your ‘kyun’ into Mother’s construction.”
The moment our fingers overlapped and our magic mixed‚ golden sparks burst forth.
When Mother’s precise construction‚ Father’s rhythm— and the “light of emotion” spilling from the girl’s fingertips overlapped‚
the entire shoreline transformed into a field of golden flowers.
“Beautiful... When I’m with you‚ Aria‚ I can hear a sound that makes tomorrow even more exciting!”
“...Is that so? Then let’s play here again tomorrow. It’s a promise.”
Her soft little finger wrapped around mine.
But— the next day‚ the girl disappeared.
Afraid of losing something precious again‚ I locked away my emotions.
Believing that if I behaved as the “prodigy” Mother wanted‚ no one would vanish anymore‚
I sealed away the “sound” that Father and she had given me.
Ton ton ton ton.
The rhythm of reality quietly closed the seaside from ten years ago.
...The echo of the waves was overwritten by the steady operating hum of medical equipment.
On the hospital bed‚ I opened my eyes.
“...Linne. I remembered something I have to do.
The continuation of the promise I couldn’t keep with that girl.
...I won’t let a sound vanish right in front of me ever again.”
“...ARIAAAAA!! My soul (defense) is sounding the highest alarm for your sunken heart!!”
With a bass rumble that physically shook my eardrums‚ half my vision was occupied by a pair of enormous pectoral muscles.
“Cross... please stop doing a side chest pose next to the sleeping Iris.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Can’t you see my latissimus dorsi trying to crush the surrounding impure residue with physical shockwaves?!”
“It doesn’t need crushing. Actually‚ go let Kotone knock that new theory out of you right now.”
The door opened with a precise “kachari” rhythm. Kotone stepped in‚ wearing a white coat‚ her silver-rimmed glasses gleaming.
“...Cross-kun. Your lung capacity is practically environmental pollution at this point. More importantly‚ Aria-kun. Look at this.”
A pale blue hologram unfolded in the air. It was a structural diagram showing the deepest section of the academy.
“As I said before‚ the academy’s ‘Secret Treasury’ stores an artifact capable of anchoring a soul— the ‘Ancient Catalyst.’
Only the champion of the Academy Tournament is allowed entry.”
Kotone paused there‚ her eyes wavering behind her glasses.
“...But here’s the problem.
The probability that Aria-kun will win this year’s tournament and obtain the catalyst is—
less than 0.03%.”
She steadied her breath once and quietly closed the terminal hologram.
“...It’s strange for someone as calculation-driven as me to say this‚ but this is the first time I’ve hoped my calculations were wrong. It’s as if someone intentionally hid the noise... how interesting. I almost want to spend my entire life uncovering what it really is.”
From my pocket‚ I took out an old grimoire notebook. It was a keepsake from my mother‚ Reina.
On the final page‚ meticulous theories lined the page‚ but the place where the conclusion should have been written ended in chaotic strokes— beyond that stretched a blank margin‚ spreading like my mother’s silence.
“0.03%... Even so‚ we have to do it.
We’ll fill this ‘blank space’ Mother couldn’t finish writing.”
Ton ton ton ton.
The rhythm beating on my knees was now a countdown to tune my own soul.
The long corridor leading to the administrative office was chilled‚ as if the noise outside had been cut off entirely.
Ton ton ton ton.
For me now‚ this rhythm was a metronome synchronizing me with Iris’s life— the “Remaining Life Counter.”
I sensed “perfect silence” walking toward me from ahead.
“Oh my‚ oh my. I thought you’d be sobbing at the edge of despair... ‘failure.’”
A boy with perfectly arranged silver hair—Soran—blocked my path.
Only around him was wrapped in an eerie silence‚ as if magical residue was being forcibly absorbed and crushed.
“Ninety days left. Your incomplete magic strangled the one you were supposed to save with your own hands.”
“...!”
Ton‚ ton‚ ton... The rhythm faltered.
Soran raised a white-gloved hand to his mouth. In that moment‚ I saw the skin of his wrist through the gap of the glove— grotesquely discolored gray.
(Level 2 corrosion... Mother’s skin looked like that just before she died. Soran... are you storing residue inside yourself as a filter...?)
“A failure belongs in the trash. ...Even a requiem is too good for you.”
As Soran passed by‚ the air rippled faintly‚ like an invisible string had been plucked.
—Peen.
Nagi appeared on the window frame‚ narrowing her jade-colored eyes as she looked down at me. Her slender fingers pressed tightly against her ear‚ and from between them I saw a single drop of clear blue liquid run down.
(Blue blood...? Don’t tell me she takes damage just from hearing sound...?)
“...Just strong noise. Don’t worry about it.”
Nagi smiled as if hiding the pain and melted back into the shadows.
“...This isn’t a funeral (requiem). It’s a ‘prelude’ to bring her back.”
I said it to Soran’s back without turning around. The way he walked looked as though he was enduring pain— and I was sure I hadn’t imagined it.
After submitting the entry form‚ I returned to Iris’s hospital room. The red light of sunset stretched our shadows long and together.
Iris slept quietly‚ as if dissolving into the evening glow.
Suddenly my eyes caught the yellow ribbon tied in her hair.
It looked far too similar to the one the girl in my dream had worn.
(...Why does she have this?)
Before I realized it‚ my fingers were reaching toward the knot.
The moment I gently adjusted it‚ the coldness of her hand pierced my chest more than the ribbon’s warmth.
—!?
A shock ran through me as if someone had grabbed my heart with bare hands.
The skin I touched was colder than a living person— like a glass ornament lying at the bottom of a winter spring.
(Cold... The number ninety days isn’t a “grace period.” It’s a cliff edge where every moment counts.)
I hurriedly tried to warm her with my palms‚ but the temperature didn’t return.
“...Aria. Here.”
Linne placed a small charm made from leftover pieces of my jacket fabric into my hand.
“It’s about all I can do... but the important point is this— I’ll make sure the place you return to is protected.”
Her warm voice purified my frozen heart.
“...Yeah. I’m going‚ Linne. I’ll bring Iris back. No matter what.”
Ton ton ton ton.
That rhythm alone was the only sound tying her to the real world.
It was a “prelude” carrying the firm will to bring her back and let the sound of the future resonate.
The “sound of the future” she spoke of that day trembled deep in my chest as a faint‚ yet certain echo.
In the moonlit window frame‚ it felt as if the strings of a harp trembled once with a sound no one could hear.
My father’s heartbeat‚ my mother’s unfinished blank page‚ Iris’s cold fingertips.
The story of ninety days would now begin its true ensemble from here.
End of Chapter 06
|