# Chapter 155
—
Willet pulled out two glasses and, with his newly fitted prosthetic hand, poured the liquor.
One glass he set before himself, the other he slid toward Arthur.
Arthur accepted the glass and lowered his head slightly.
The orange liquid inside glistened brightly.
*Oh… not beer, but whiskey.*
Just from its color, it didn’t look bad at all.
Then Willet, raising his own glass, gave a bit of advice.
“The first drink, you down it in one go. And you always clink glasses with your partner.”
Following Willet’s lead, Arthur clinked his glass against his.
The crisp, clear ring echoed out, and in that instant Willet tilted his head back and drained the glass in a single gulp.
Arthur blinked.
“Wait—? You said lightly, didn’t you?”
“This is lightly.”
“…Hmph. So in the world of drink, ‘lightly’ means one-shot.”
Rubbing his chin, Arthur followed suit and emptied his glass in one go.
Willet watched with interest as Arthur’s face twisted.
“…Bleh. Tastes awful.”
Exactly the reaction he’d expected. Willet burst into laughter.
“Liquor isn’t about taste. It’s about the atmosphere, about sharing it with someone.”
He poured again.
And once again, Arthur one-shotted it.
Willet, a little surprised, cleared his throat.
“From the second glass onward, you’re supposed to pace yourself.”
“Oh, is that how it works?”
Nodding, Arthur held out his glass again.
Willet stroked his chin.
*Hrm… seems his body handles liquor better than I expected.*
And usually, people like that turn out to be heavy drinkers.
With a soft chuckle, Willet poured again and spoke.
“You need a side dish with alcohol. For me, the best one has always been stories of life. Arthur Bayern, tell me your story.”
Arthur thought for a moment, then began speaking.
His tale was rambling, without any clear direction—like idle small talk with no particular purpose.
Yet both he and Willet enjoyed the mood it created.
To drink and chat freely, unburdened for once—it felt as good as anything could.
“And so I was shocked, really. That Julie had grown up so much…”
Glass in hand, Arthur spoke endlessly, words tumbling out without restraint.
Willet, quietly watching him, murmured inwardly:
*…What a shame. That this will be the last glass.*
He wanted more stories. He wanted a deeper bond. But circumstances, and fate itself, allowed no such thing.
And Willet knew—such was life.
He lifted his prosthetic hand.
As Arthur fell silent at the movement, Willet asked,
“Arthur Bayern. Do you know why I brought you here, to Lake Eldium?”
Arthur blinked.
“Huh? Because it’s a nice spot for drinks, wasn’t it?”
“If that were the reason, I’d have taken you to the finest bar in Arcane.”
“Hmm… then I’ve no idea. What’s the reason, old man?”
Turning his head, Willet replied.
“Lake Eldium is a grave.”
Arthur’s eyes shot wide.
“A… grave?”
“Yes. My comrades, who fought and died resisting Dormund. This is where I buried them.”
With those words, Willet smiled faintly.
“It’s sudden, but… I have a favor to ask.”
“What kind of favor?”
“Bury me here.”
“…?”
Arthur blinked.
Meanwhile, Willet lifted his glass and drank.
“Bury me here in Eldium Lake, Arthur Bayern. That will be my final request of you.”
—
—
Willet’s words made Arthur’s eyes widen.
“What… what are you saying, sir? Suddenly asking me to bury you?”
Willet swirled his cup and muttered.
“It’s nothing much. Just… when I breathe my last, lay me to rest here.”
Arthur frowned.
“…That’s nothing much?”
“It isn’t. Once I’m gone, all you have to do is toss me into this lake. What’s so hard about that?”
“That itself doesn’t make sense. Are you still sick? Is that it?”
“Sick…? Hm.”
Willet tapped his fingers against the table.
Arthur’s face was tight with displeasure.
Watching him for a while, Willet thought:
*Much more upset than I expected.*
He’d known Arthur held him in special regard, but he hadn’t thought he’d show his feelings so openly.
*Never once has he frowned at me before…*
Unconsciously, Willet chuckled.
Arthur tilted his head.
“What’s funny all of a sudden?”
Forcing his lips straight, Willet answered.
“Just… a strange feeling.”
“…Strange?”
“At this age, you see. Relationships, family—everything tends to fall away around now.”
He raised his cup again.
“And in the midst of that, having someone care this much for me… it feels good.”
Arthur blinked.
“Sir, I like women, though.”
Willet blinked too.
Why did that suddenly come up?
Thinking on it, he startled.
“…Well, so do I!”
“Ah. That’s a relief.”
“…How on earth do you reach such misunderstandings?”
“I just had to be sure. The man who grumbles every day suddenly says he likes me, so…”
Clicking his tongue, Willet explained,
“I meant I like you as one would a grandson.”
“Oh… a grandson?”
“Yes. If I’d lived a normal life—married, had a son—then I’d probably have a grandson just like you.”
Arthur’s eyes went wide.
Never had he imagined the stern Willet would say such words.
And so, his worry deepened.
*They say people change before death…*
With a heavy look, Arthur asked again.
“Sir. I’ll ask once more.”
“What?”
“Are you truly not sick?”
Willet hesitated.
*How do I explain this?*
To a youth whose days ahead outnumbered the ones behind, how was he to speak of death and parting?
Willet had faced countless things in life, yet even he could not find the words easily.
Death and farewell were things no one ever grew used to.
But he couldn’t show hesitation now.
Sometimes, even without experience, one must pretend. And now was such a time.
He organized his thoughts and spoke slowly.
“Arthur Bayern—no, Arthur. Every human dies.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
Willet lifted his prosthetic hand and gently ruffled Arthur’s hair.
“Death is inescapable, and always sorrowful. You will face it countless times in your life.”
Arthur’s eyelids trembled.
“You mean… you’re dying of some disease?”
“No. If it were an illness, I’d fight tooth and nail to live.”
“Then…?”
“My body’s lifespan has simply run its course.”
Arthur’s heart dropped like a stone.
Willet’s voice remained calm.
“After years of battle, my body is ruined beyond repair. My heart… it could stop at any moment.”
—
—
Willet and Arthur returned to Arcane.
Three days later…
Arthur sat atop the city’s tallest building.
The full moon shone dazzlingly close.
As he gazed at it, his thoughts drifted back to Willet’s words.
*Only you, I, and my attending physician know this truth.*
*…You’re keeping it secret?*
*I don’t want to trouble people needlessly. Their minds should be on Arcane, not me.*
*…Then why tell me, sir?*
Willet had smiled softly.
*Because you must fulfill my request.*
*……*
*No one else would. But you, Arthur—you would.*
He had placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
*Before Arthur Bayern and Willet Christol, we were mercenary and broker.*
*…!*
*And you are the finest mercenary of my life. Who else could I entrust this to?*
Willet’s grip had tightened.
*When my breath ceases… lay me to rest in that lake. Quietly, without anyone noticing. My life was full of clamor; at the end, I want peace.*
That had been the last of their talk. Afterward, Willet had drunk in silence.
Now, staring at the moon, Arthur muttered,
“His body’s ruined…”
He recalled the countless scars etched into Willet’s flesh.
No ordinary human could have survived such wounds. That he still lived was near miraculous.
So Willet’s mention of his end was hardly surprising.
Yet Arthur could not accept it.
*There must be a way…*
Willet lived still. That meant the miracle endured. And Arthur wanted that miracle to last.
*If he dies now… it’s too cruel.*
For seven years, Willet had poured himself into Arcane. At last, their efforts bore fruit.
If anyone deserved to see that light a little longer, it was Willet.
Arthur’s eyes gleamed.
*There are ways. Nothing’s impossible.*
The continent’s greatest priest. The most renowned healer.
And if even that failed… he’d fetch a dragon’s heart itself if need be.
*As long as he still breathes… I’ll find a way.*
Giving up could wait.
With that resolve, Arthur leapt from the rooftop, heading toward Willet’s ward to tell him everything.
But as he ran, someone came rushing toward him—the attending physician.
“…Sir Donn!”
Ader’s eyes widened.
The doctor, panting heavily, urged,
“…Hurry, sir! Quickly!”
Arthur’s heart began pounding.
The miracle… was flickering out.
Like a candle, sputtering before its final fade.
—
—
In the ward, Willet lay with eyes closed.
Unmoving.
Arthur’s stomach dropped with terror. Had the doctor not spoken, he’d have thought him dead already.
“…He lives still. But he’s at the very brink.”
The physician handed Arthur a parchment.
“…What is this?”
“His lordship instructed me to give it to you at the final moment.”
Eyes wide, Arthur unrolled it.
\[1/23 Anisha Bress]
\[1/28 Full Natian]
\[2/12 Geher Han, Tiras Ben, Ben Beck]
…
Hundreds of names, densely written.
As he scanned them, realization struck.
*These are the mercenaries who died fighting Dormund.*
The sheer number shocked him. Even more so that Willet remembered them all.
Then one name leapt out.
\[…Willet Christol]
At the very end.
Seeing it, Arthur recalled Willet’s words:
*Lake Eldium is a grave. The resting place of comrades who fell to Dormund.*
His hands crushed the parchment before he realized it.
The physician flinched, but soon delivered the next message.
“And he said this: \[To Donn, my life’s greatest mercenary].”
“……”
“\[Please… do not betray my final request.]”
Arthur swayed where he stood.
The physician caught him, alarmed.
Steadying himself, Arthur forced his breath calm.
“He… he truly said that?”
“…Yes. He did.”
“Tonight… is it the end?”
The physician hesitated, then nodded.
“…Forgive me. But it seems he will not see the morning.”
Arthur suddenly seized his collar.
The physician shuddered.
Then Arthur, eyes wild, caught himself.
“S-sorry. I’m sorry.”
He sank to his knees, bowing in apology.
The physician steadied his racing heart and thought:
*…He’s lost in turmoil.*
And who could blame him? In his place, the doctor doubted he’d remain sane either.
After some thought, he spoke plainly.
“…As a doctor, I shouldn’t say this. But as one who’s lived longer, I’ll give you this advice.”
Arthur lifted his head.
Meeting his eyes, the physician smiled gently.
“In this moment, whatever you choose, none will condemn you, Donn.”
“……”
“If anyone deserves blame, it’s me. So make your choice, as you will.”
Arthur’s lips quivered. He bowed deeply.
“…Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you with him.”
With that, the physician departed.
Arthur turned his gaze.
Willet lay peacefully asleep.
He looked almost… relieved, as though all his burdens had finally fallen away.
Arthur bit his lip, watching him for a long time.
Then he carefully lifted Willet in his arms.
—Flash!
Under the full moon, Arthur slipped through the window and out of Arcane.
—
—
Bearing Willet on his back, Arthur ran through the night.
Confusion, torment, conflict churned within him.
*Am I doing the right thing?*
He could not answer.
But one thing was certain:
Not once had the mercenary Donn ever refused a request from the broker Willet.
That was why he carried him now.
And so he understood.
*This is why he chose me. Because he knew I couldn’t say no.*
That knowledge hurt most of all.
*If only… if only I hadn’t known.*
His steps faltered.
And there before him lay Lake Eldium, bathed in moonlight.
Its beauty stole his breath.
Then—Willet whispered faintly.
“…Thank you, Arthur.”
Arthur’s eyes went wide.
“Sir? Sir!”
He looked back frantically.
But Willet gave no answer.
Instead, his once-warm body grew steadily colder.
“…!”
Frozen, Arthur whispered.
“…Sir?”
No reply. Only the chill deepened.
Thump…
The heartbeat against his back—gone.
Arthur collapsed on the spot.
“Ah…”
Only broken gasps left his lips.
The truth crashed in:
Willet Christol was dead.
His mentor—perhaps more than that—the elder of Arcane, had breathed his last.
The moment he accepted it, a tear slipped down Arthur’s cheek.
Drip.
One tear, then another. Soon, a downpour.
“Aaah…”
Head bowed, he groaned.
A flood of unnamable emotions crushed him.
“Sir… sir… why…”
Sobbing, Arthur’s mind reeled.
“…!”
His vision swam. His eyes burned red.
Pain boiled into impulse, and the world flashed.
He drew the Blood Sword.
—Shiiing!
In the moonlight, its crimson edge gleamed wickedly.
Arthur rose, eyes gleaming with madness.
“Aah…”
Staggering, unsteady, he swung the sword.
Through blurred vision, he glimpsed Arcane in the distance.
He stared for a long time, lips twitching upward.
Then the bushes nearby rustled violently.
“…!”
Arthur slashed.
The brush split apart, flying into the air.
But he didn’t stop.
Unhinged, he raised the sword for another blow—
And then, a desperate shout rang out.
\[Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!!!! No—Master!]
Arthur froze.
His crimson vision cleared.
Exhaling heavily, he looked down—
And blinked in surprise at the trembling figure.
“…Huh? Gnome?”
It was the Higher Earth Spirit, Gnome.
He was sprawled flat, weeping and snot-nosed.
\[P-please spare me, Arthur! I don’t want to die, please!]
Baffled, Arthur blinked again.
—
Gnome 😅😅😅