#736 (Patreon)

Cleanup (4)

Using Joseph's corpse, which had lost one arm, as a frame, the scattered corpses around it came together to form a rough figure.

Countless skulls, using rotten flesh as glue, formed the shape of a small horse, and the decayed arms and legs clung to each other to create the body of a naked old man.

It wasn't over yet.

Hands, rotten to the point of exposing bone, surrounded Joseph's skull, which was almost indistinguishable from a skeleton, intertwining fingers to form a face, over which intestines crawled like worms to form a thick, bushy beard.

Just as when they first met, it was no different thereafter.

The old man, having formed a body and mounted on the horse, stared intently at Oliver, then placed one hand on his chest and bowed his head towards him.

With utmost respect.

If there was any difference from the past, it was that Joseph, who had fallen and screamed, was no longer there, and the old man on the horse did not disappear.

[Greetings, noble being.]

Unlike the first meeting, he did not disappear but stood right there. Furthermore, he even greeted Oliver.

It was a good sign, at least indicating he was willing to converse immediately.

Literally, a stroke of luck.

However, Oliver decided not to rush his luck. There was an order to conversation, and etiquette was important after all.

Oliver rose from his seat, placed one hand on his chest just like the old man on the horse, and bowed deeply.

"Thank you for coming out, old man on the horse."

Oliver slightly raised his head, showing an indescribably mysterious expression.

The face of the old man on the horse, formed by intricately entangled fingers, was asymmetrical and twisted.

With a feeling of confusion, it was in response to Oliver's hard-to-explain expression.

"I smiled."

Oliver explained to the bewildered old man that he was smiling.

"Usually, it's polite to greet a distinguished guest with a smile. So, I tried my best, but do you not see?"

[You put me in an awkward position.]

The old man on the horse expressed his discomfort, and Oliver muttered regretfully.

"Damn... I tried."

Uncharacteristically, Oliver even mixed in a curse, albeit awkwardly and theatrically.

[Perhaps—]

"—Hold on a moment."

Oliver raised his finger towards the old man on the horse, who was about to ask a question, watching Oliver's awkward behavior.

"First, I have something to ask you."

[Speak, noble being.]

"Was my earlier greeting natural enough?"

[...]

"Was even the greeting awkward? I would be hurt if that were the case."

[No, your greeting was excellent.]

"Right? I learned it at the Angels House. The staff there taught me. Originally, I went to learn disguise, but they taught me other things as well, like etiquette, perfumery, and how to dress."

Oliver spread his arms to show the clothes he was wearing.

A stable style that was neither excessive nor neatly fashionable.

"At first, I wasn't interested, but they told me I had to learn. That it was a matter of etiquette."

Oliver adjusted his attire.

"Clothing is a symbol that reflects one's mindset and consideration for others. There's no need to overdo it, but you should at least know how to dress appropriately for the people and the place. Not doing so isn't just unfashionable—it's rude... Do you understand the point of what I'm saying?"

[I don't. Would you explain it to me?]

"Wear some clothes, please. The lady on the camel dresses well, so why do you and the burnt one appear naked?"

An unexpected response. The old man on the horse said nothing; he just stood there silently watching Oliver.

Thanks to that, a heavy, suffocating silence filled the underground space of the abandoned hospital.

"Ah... It was a joke. Didn't you find it funny?"

[You've made your decision, noble being. To prevent the end.]

The old man on the horse, drawing conclusions from Oliver's words and actions, spoke.

Caught off guard by this statement, the sound disappeared momentarily, but soon Oliver's voice filled the silence that had fallen.

"It's strange. I thought you all knew already. Weren't you watching me?"

[From some point, I could no longer watch over you.]

From some point... Oliver thought about asking when exactly that was, but he soon gave up. He had another favor to ask, and knowing wouldn't be of much use anyway. He had already decided what to do. Asking such things now would only be a waste of words.

[Aren't you angry?]

"Suddenly? What do you mean?"

[This whole situation. Don't you already know? That it was I who pushed you into this abyss.]

The old man on the horse admitted it. It was he who first drew Oliver's fate. It was the warlock Joseph who had pulled Oliver out of the mine, and that Joseph was a possession of the old man on the horse. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that he had placed Oliver into the cruel pit of fate.

The one who had fallen into the pit of fate expressed his feelings.

"Not really. It's true Mr. Joseph took me out, but I was the one who willingly followed. It seems a bit much to blame you, the old man on the horse, now."

[You're serious, then.]

"Yes, and it's a bit awkward to complain about being entwined in fate."

Oliver recalled the fingers. Hansel, who was abandoned by his parents and nearly eaten by a witch, became Human-meat Chef alongside Gretel. Peter, who obsessed over being a prince of hell after a harsh life as a chimney sweep filled with his mother's delusions. Pied Piper, who, after denying his own fate, lost his beloved son and was driven mad by rage. Puppet born into human hands without the blessing of a god.

They were all villains but also beings with their own circumstances.

However, their lives and circumstances became nourishment for Oliver. Irrationally and absurdly.

"It would be strange for me to complain. Besides, it's not like you wanted it that way, right?"

The old man on the horse's eyes flickered for a moment.

Oliver was right. The old man on the horse was merely the trigger. The real culprit was the one who pulled the trigger.

Even if he were to harbor resentment, it made sense to resent him. Then, who was the trigger-puller? Who among the 72 lords of hell could command? God, or perhaps...

"The end is no different."

The old man on the horse, having seen the depth in Oliver, spoke. With a demonic voice that could burst a person just by listening, Fortunately, there was no one else in this underground place, no one bleeding from their eyes or bursting alive.

"Your voice is beautiful."

"He said the same."

From the old man on the horse's voice, a sense of longing and pity was felt. His gaze was the same. He looked at Oliver and thought of him.

However, the old man on the horse soon shook off such emotions and returned to the original conversation.

"The end is the same, noble being. The one who enacts it is higher than me. And far beyond us."

"That's scary."

It was sincere. Truly frightening. That beings who could burn a person with just a breath and single-handedly bring down flourishing nations, even demons that bowed their heads in reverence, desired the end? It was strange not to be frightened.

"However, I don't think my mind will change."

"Noble being, I have been watching you for a long time."

"I know."

"That's why I respect you. I've seen the pain and trials you've overcome... But this is a different case."

The old man on the horse warned. It was impossible to read his emotions, but it was clear that his concern was pure and without ulterior motive.

"Look, if it's alright with you, may I correct a misunderstanding? I have no intention of winning."

"You have no intention of winning...?"

"Yes, I've realized that it's pointless, no matter how hard I struggle against trials, in the end, I'll just break down. All that remains is pain and emptiness. So, I no longer intend to fight."

The old man on the horse glared at Oliver.

"It's contradictory. You say you have no intention of fighting fate, yet you intend to prevent the end?"

"There are angels who went to hell, too. What about that." Oliver pointed at the old man on the horse.

"Since we're on the topic, did you go to hell because you're sensitive to the cold?"

"Is that also a joke?"

"Half-serious. Is it funny?"

"No."

"Damn..." Oliver muttered, seemingly regretful.

The old man on the horse stared intently at Oliver. The difference now was that there was no more worry or pity, only longing and admiration.

"What would you like to ask of me?"

"Ah, you truly are a demon. Knowing that I would only call you if I needed something, I'm glad this conversation is moving quickly."

"Noble being. Out of respect for you, I am willing to entertain even somewhat unreasonable requests. If you have any questions, speak them. I can tell you what the end is, and if you wish, your role—"

"—No, that's alright. I'm not particularly interested." Oliver waved his hand dismissively.

"Not interested?"

"Yes, even knowing wouldn't influence my decision. It would be a waste of words... Instead, I have a request."

"Speak."

"Mr. Puppet will probably bring about the end. Not the real end, but something quite similar," Oliver thought of the unyielding knees. The artificial prince of hell created by the Swan Order in anticipation of the end.

At that moment, Oliver realized that Puppet's plan was not absurd. "Likely, the aftermath will be quite similar. The last sign."

Oliver shook a book he had received from Edith. The book contained signs of the demon's appearance. 

The first sign. Water turning into blood.

The second sign. Frogs covering the earth.

The third sign. Teeth sprouting from all directions.

The fourth sign. Flies covering the sky.

The fifth sign. A deadly plague killing animals.

The sixth sign. A malady harming people.

The seventh sign. Calamitous hail falling from the sky.

The eighth sign. Locusts consuming everything.

The ninth sign. Darkness obliterating all.

The final tenth sign—

"—That's too much." Oliver judged the last sign.

The old man on the horse shook his head in denial. "It is not for us to decide."

"No, I will decide. I have decided to do so." Oliver said brazenly, almost like a child throwing a tantrum.

However, the old man on the horse couldn't treat him as such, having seen the agony and pain Oliver had endured just to make such petulant statements.

"However, I don't have the power to stop it right now. So please help me this one time."

"Why don't we go now and stop the logjam?"

"You know that's not something that can be done that way." 

The old man on the horse showed a different kind of perplexity than before. "You ask a difficult favor, noble being."

"It's difficult, that's why I'm asking. Haven't you eaten the food I gave you?"

"You're also shameless."

"That's part of my charm." Oliver continued joking. Desperately.

The old man on the horse was not unaware of this. He knew Oliver was whipping himself to become stronger. It wasn't that he didn't want to help. On the contrary, he wanted to help. 

But.

"It must be a very difficult favor."

"It is, noble being."

"May I at least know the reason?"

"It's because I cannot admit that I, the noble being, like you."

A sense of déjà vu was felt.

The Burned One had said that before. The Woman on the Camel was not much different. She treated Oliver kindly and granted his requests but drew a definite line. It must have been about recognition.

Whirr...

For the first time, the stout horse that had been silent like a statue moved.

At the same time, light entered the eye sockets of the skulls making up the horse, and they all looked at Oliver as if each skull had its own life.

Moreover, a scythe now appeared in the hand of the old man on the horse, previously empty.

"If you wish, there is a way to gain my recognition now. I am in a very weak state at the moment. It might be possible for you."

Oliver looked at the old man on the horse holding the scythe and shook his head.

"I'm too scared. Sorry, but just because the shell is cracked doesn't mean I think I can fight a demon."

The man who had declared his intention to stop the apocalypse blatantly lied about being scared.

The old man on the horse could not counter it, due to Oliver's next remark.

"Also, I don't want to be recognized in such a way... Is it really that hard?"

"It's almost impossible, noble being."

"I'm not sure how difficult that is, to be honest. There's almost nothing I can't do. Black magic, magic, errands, cooking, fashion, making coffee... I'm quite versatile."

"Can't you not smile?"

"Ah..." Uncharacteristically, the usually confident Oliver gasped.

Smiling, grinning. It was indeed almost impossible for him. The reason he said "almost" is because he had managed to smile a couple of times. But besides those, all attempts had failed, especially when he tried to smile voluntarily.

"It is just as difficult for me to help you right now. So..."

The old man on the horse started to speak but then stopped. Oliver suddenly bowed his head, covering his face with both hands.

Just when it seemed he might be heartbroken from being refused, Oliver suddenly raised his head.

With the thumbs of both hands, he lifted the corners of his mouth. Surprisingly, Oliver was smiling. It was awkward, but definitely more natural than before.

"..."

The old man on the horse silently watched the smile, and Oliver removed his thumbs from the corners of his mouth.

"How about this? Was this smile natural?"

Oliver asked.

The old man on the horse stood there dazed for a moment and then eventually dismounted from the horse.

His previously lofty gaze had reached a more comfortable level.

"Yes, noble being."