Chapter 151 - The Instructor, the Adventurer, and the Nightmare
(An interlude featuring Jean and Elmelinda.)
It was sometime after dusk when Jean left the Adventurers Guild and headed to Oswald's estate.
He had finished his duties earlier than usual and boarded the carriage sent to pick him up, only to find a woman waiting inside who introduced herself as his guide.
She was Elmelinda, Oswald's third wife.
Even though both of them were married, Jean couldn't help wondering what Oswald had been thinking, putting a man and a woman alone together in a carriage. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.
After exchanging the usual formal greetings, the tall, beautiful woman with black hair sat across from him and stared at him intently.
Her eyes, the color of fresh mugwort leaves, reminded him of someone.
"Instructor Jean, don't you think it's about time we talked about something?"
"Could you be... 'Mince-’Em El'?"
At the woman's amused remark, Jean found himself responding in a tone that made his own exasperation all too apparent.
"So you finally remember me. They only called me by that nickname when I was a beginner. Isn't it a little cruel that that's all you remember? I had other, much cooler nicknames, like 'Gale-blade El.'"
"Sorry. I never imagined you'd become Mrs. Zola... I'd heard you'd returned to your hometown."
What came to mind was a new adventurer training session held by the Adventurers Guild more than ten years ago.
The training was offered to anyone who wished to participate and lasted about four days. It covered things like how to travel through grasslands and forests, as well as explanations about monsters.
Jean had been forced to fill in for one session because they were short on instructors.
August had probably arranged it out of consideration for Jean, who was always busy with his daily duties.
During that training session, there had been two people who were astonishingly skilled for beginners, yet somehow managed to ruin monster materials spectacularly.
After repeatedly warning them not to burn the materials to a crisp or mince them into tiny pieces, the two had earned the nicknames "Charcoal" and "Mince-’Em."
After the training ended, the pair rose rapidly through the ranks, becoming celebrated adventurers and reaching the upper ranks in no time.
However, they had always been better at slaying monsters than harvesting their materials.
As a result, among those who worked with monster materials, they were still secretly known as "Charcoal" and "Mince-’Em."
Jean remembered that they had retired from adventuring several years ago. He hadn't seen them since.
More precisely, he had spotted Elmelinda at the Adventurers Guild a few times, but he'd never imagined she was Mince-’Em El.
"I couldn't bring myself to return to a village where he was no longer there... While I was struggling with what to do, my husband took me in. Oh, and when you use such polite language with me, Instructor, it makes my skin crawl. Please talk to me normally while we're in the carriage."
"Thank you. I'll do that for now. But you've changed so much that I didn't recognize you. And, well, your name, too..."
"I was adopted into a noble family among my relatives before getting married. I changed my name from El to Elmelinda."
Her once-cropped hair was now long, glossy, and beautiful, while her formerly dark, sun-tanned skin had become fair and smooth. Her clothes had also changed from practical linen garments and light armor to an expensive-looking black dress.
Above all, the boyish air she'd once carried like the wind had transformed into the bewitching allure of a married woman.
"I'm glad you're doing well... No, sorry."
The words had slipped out before he could stop himself, prompted by his relief.
Knowing what had happened afterward, he had no right to say something so casually.
"I'm all right now. I couldn't stop him when he went berserk, but I stayed by his side until the very end. And now I have my husband."
"...I see."
There was something about the way Elmelinda spoke so decisively that made her seem almost dazzling.
He remembered a short man with vermilion-colored hair.
The man had repeatedly asked Jean, who was tall and broad-built, if there was any way to make himself taller. Despite being exceptionally strong, he was a few centimeters shorter than El, and it had always bothered him.
As a skilled user of advanced fire magic, he had worn black leather gloves throughout the entire training session and never removed the protective guard around his collar.
If only Jean had noticed back then.
The man had been hiding the fact that he was Blighted in order to increase the firepower of his magic.
In the end, he had died during a battle with monsters, his own magical power burning him alive. El, who had been fighting alongside him, had suffered severe burns and other injuries, retired from adventuring, and returned to her hometown—that was what Jean had heard.
Those touched by monsters' curses or blessed by their power tended to gain greater physical stamina and magical ability.
However, they always paid a price, to varying degrees.
They might struggle to control their strength or magic, suffer bodily damage when their magic power exceeds what their bodies could contain, or experience the world differently from ordinary people, with altered senses of smell or temperature. Living a normal human life could be difficult for many of them.
Furthermore, if someone Blighted lost control of their powers and went berserk, they would be treated as a monster to be exterminated.
For that reason, even when the cost of lifting the curse was too high, those affected could consult a temple and arrange to pay in installments or work off the cost through alternative forms of labor.
Of course, cases that reached that point were extremely rare, so it was hardly something the average person ever had to think about.
"You don't have to carry any guilt over what happened to him, Instructor."
At the unexpected, quiet voice, Jean raised his eyes.
Her mugwort-green eyes regarded him with a slightly troubled expression.
Apparently, his regret had been showing on his face.
"It's not as though I'm carrying any guilt. I was just remembering the old days... Like how the appraisers used to lament that the rare materials you brought back were scorched or covered in cuts. I was one of them."
"All I can say is that I'm sorry... But we always went on expeditions with only a small group, so we had to take the monsters down quickly. Besides, don't you have any better memories? Something more enjoyable, perhaps?"
As Elmelinda chuckled ruefully, Jean searched his memories more deeply.
Their first training session had been at the end of summer, around this time of year.
It had started with him scolding the rookies for bringing far too much luggage.
"During training, I remember him turning black bread topped with cheese into charcoal, undercooking a boar we'd gone to the trouble of hunting, and ruining a pot by turning it black when I'd asked him to boil some water."
"I remember those. Thanks to going on expeditions with him, I became much more proficient at making campfires."
"Those were matters of life and death, after all. Oh, and I remember something else. At the drinking party after the training, he mixed milk into his alcohol because he wanted to grow taller, then ended up with an upset stomach."
"That's the first I've heard of that..."
Jean couldn't understand what was supposed to be enjoyable about those memories. Even so, Elmelinda was smiling.
But her laughter was no longer as uninhibited as it had been back then, when she laughed so heartily that he could see the inside of her mouth. Now, her lips were hidden behind her slender white fingers and beautifully manicured nails, their tips painted a pale pink.
No matter how hard he tried, Jean couldn't quite remember the smile of the man who had always stood beside Elmelinda in those days.
"It's been so long. I haven't talked about him in ages."
"Him, huh... It really has been a long time."
Was she avoiding his name out of lingering attachment, or out of consideration for her current husband, Ozwald?
Jean, too, left the matter ambiguous and didn't call the man by name.
However, Elmelinda seemed to have mistaken his words for a question.
"Ah, I can't say his name anymore. I can only call him 'that man.' I had the temple seal it through a contract."
"Was that... Chairman Zola's decision? That seems awfully selfish of him."
A chill ran across Jean's forehead.
As he instinctively assumed a defensive stance, Elmelinda let out a breath, then composed herself and formed a graceful smile once more.
"I'm sorry. It seems I've given you the wrong impression. I was the one who asked for it."
"You asked for it yourself? Why would you do that?"
"I'm fine now, but... A wife who has nightmares, cries, and calls out another man's name in her sleep—that would be a nightmare in itself, wouldn't it?"
Jean had no answer.
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