Chapter 217 - Lapis, the Witch of Distrust (1)

Anton Quijano’s life was gray.

Not the gray of a city shrouded in pale fog, but something closer to the ash left after the logs in a fireplace had burned away. That was the gray of Anton’s life.

It had not always been that way.

He, too, had once lived an ordinary life. A life full of beautiful colors. Days spent honing himself, learning a knight’s honor and pride, and training with a sword in hand. Anton, too, had once lived each day to the fullest.

“Brother, practicing your swordsmanship again?”

“I’m not as clever as you, so I ought to at least swing a sword. That way I can be of some use, can’t I?”

“You never change. Honestly.”

Chatting with his younger brother, asking how he was doing. Playing with his nieces for a while. Strolling through the domain and mingling with its knights and soldiers.

“What’s a life without laughter? Smile more, Anton.”

“Like this?”

“No. Turn those corners up higher. A great big smile, like this.”

“Doesn’t that make me look like a clown? Surely a knight ought to have some dignity, Uncle?”

“A little laughter is worth more than dignity.”

Ordinary days, occasionally sharing a drink with his uncle, whose name was renowned across the continent. Those days had seemed as though they would last forever, until they came to an abrupt end.

“...”

The domain went up in flames.

“Ah, aaah...”

Everything melted into shapeless masses.

The people he was sworn to protect, the soldiers, the knights, his friends, his family—all of them burned. The flames slowly consuming the domain raged for days.

“Ah.”

When the flames died, only ashes remained. In the heart of the domain, amid drifting gray ash, Anton burst into laughter. It was hollow laughter, derisive laughter, a scream. He sobbed until his throat cracked, then sank to the ground.

Anton’s life lost its color and turned to ash-gray.

Only Anton and his uncle, Alonso Quijano, survived the inferno. Alonso asked him a question.

“Anton. What will you do?”

“...”

“Anton.”

“What will I do? Surely the answer is already decided.”

“No. It isn’t. Everything depends on how you think about it. What answer have you chosen?”

“I will kill the witches.”

Anton took up his sword.

“I will kill every witch. Just as they took everything from me, I will take everything from them.”

“I see.”

“What will you do, Uncle?”

“I intend to take them to La Mancha.”

La Mancha. Anton’s eyes narrowed at the words.

He glared at his uncle. Alonso held an urn filled with ashes he had gathered. But Anton was looking not at the urn, but into his uncle’s eyes.

“Uncle. Are you serious? La Mancha? Surely you don’t mean La Mancha?”

“Is there another La Mancha? I know of none.”

“Uncle, please!”

Anton shouted through gritted teeth.

“Please, live in the real world. How long do you intend to lose yourself in some old tale that even children laugh at? Our domain burned. If we, its knights, don’t take revenge, who will avenge them?”

Come with me. Let us kill every witch. That is the only atonement we can make. As Anton spoke, Alonso merely shook his head.

“I will follow my own path.”

Alonso Quijano set out on a journey of his own.

“Anton, you must walk yours.”

Leaving only those words behind, his uncle departed, and Anton headed in the opposite direction. Forward, treading through the ashes. He needed nothing for the journey. A single sword was enough.

Anton set fire to his life.

The fire blazed, devouring it.

He killed those connected to witches. Wherever a witch had been sighted, he went. He seized and killed indiscriminately, tortured indiscriminately.

He killed, and killed, and killed again.

Even as his body burned, fluid seeped from his wounds, and his skin charred black, Anton swung his sword and killed witches. After decades of living that way, his level naturally rose. Burning his own life, Anton attained transcendence.

In the process, he discarded countless things.

How to smile, how to breathe easily, the exclamations a magnificent sight might draw from him, how to enjoy life, how to rest... Anton willingly discarded everything except what he needed to kill witches. He made it all firewood to feed his flames.

And so decades passed.

CRACKLE.

The fire that had burned for decades went out without a sound.

“...”

He had killed and killed, yet witches still remained. Anton knew better than anyone how powerful the remaining witches were. They had lived since the age of myth. Even if he staked his life, his chances of victory were vanishingly small.

There was no end. He would die as he had lived.

With not even firewood left to burn, Anton could feel no attachment to his life. All that remained was a terrible sense of duty. He wandered in search of a place to die.

“Child.”

Then, one day...

“Are you that witch hunter?”

Someone spoke to Anton.

“Look at the state of you. You’re practically a beggar. You really make life hard for yourself. Isn’t living like that exhausting?”

A voice tinged with a little sympathy and a little laughter.

“Listen, I’ve lived like that myself. It gets you nowhere, you know? There’s no fun in it. You live like shit, then die like shit.”

“...”

“Would you look at this guy? When someone talks to you, you ought to at least pretend to listen. What, I don’t count as a person? Funny little bastard. Hey. Hey.”

A weight tapped against his back, twice.

Then—

SMACK!

A hand struck the back of his head, and Anton turned.

“Now we can finally have a conversation. Hello. Ah, I can tell from those eyes. Those are the eyes of a bastard who won’t listen to a fucking word.”

Pale violet.

Hair the color of morning glories.

“After burning all that, you still want to burn more? Well, if that’s what you want...”

A pale, slender hand.

“I’ll be your firewood. You killed the Witch of Blazing Heat ages ago, didn’t you? You need new firewood. Right?”

A little pain, and half his heart pulled free.

“Then use me as firewood—the one who took your heart. With something left to burn, life ought to be bearable enough, don’t you think?”

A woman wearing a mischievous smile.

For the first time in decades, Anton met another person’s eyes. He asked the woman before him who she was.

“Me?”

At his question, the woman answered with a truly captivating smile.

“Lapis,” she said.

“The Witch of Distrust.”

2.

Lapis, the Witch of Distrust.

Anton Quijano began pursuing the witch who had stolen half his heart.

In truth, it hardly deserved to be called a pursuit.

Lapis always stayed in her holy land, and finding it was not difficult. She did not even prevent Anton from entering. Her attitude was that he could come as often as he liked.

Was her holy land fortified like a fortress, then?

Not that, either. Far from a fortress, it was nothing more than a cottage built on a hill. An utterly peaceful place bathed in warm sunlight. Anton, who had arrived equipped with every conceivable tool for fighting a witch, could only feel bewildered.

After standing outside the cottage in thought, he knocked.

“...”

There stood Lapis, wearing not robes but comfortable everyday clothes. She rubbed her eyes as though she had just woken, looked at Anton, then pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed.

“Giving advance notice is basic courtesy when visiting a lady. And shouldn’t you at least bring a bouquet? Are you really planning to visit a lady’s home looking like a beggar?”

Lapis opened her eyes wide.

“Try again.”

With a casual wave of her hand, she expelled Anton. Only a day later could he enter her holy land again.

“Fuck, don’t you want your heart back? Shall I just simmer it and eat it?”

Try again. Again. Again.

After this happened over and over, Anton began complying with Lapis’s demands, even while wondering what on earth he was doing. He cut his hair. Trimmed his unruly beard.

“...”

“What is it? Is this still not enough?”

“No. I’m surprised. Even back then, I thought you might look decent with a haircut and a trimmed beard, but... What the hell? You had a face like that and let yourself look like that?”

“None of it is necessary for killing witches.”

“Right. Of course you’d say that.”

“Will this do?”

“Where are the flowers?”

“...”

Lapis waved her hand.

“Try again.”

In the end, Anton was allowed inside only after picking a single flower and bringing it with him. The cottage he entered was full of books of every kind.

“So, are you ready to give my heart back now?”

“Depends on how you behave.”

“Listen. I’m a witch hunter. The man sitting before you has killed at least thirty of your kind—”

“What’s this weak-ass fucker babbling about?”

“What?”

“Listen, do you know Merlin? Merlin?”

“You mean the archmage of the Round Table?”

“Yes. I’m a witch who fought that Merlin and survived. I haven’t lived all these years just to lose to some little fucking brat like you.”

Lapis smiled sweetly and snapped her fingers.

“What? Want to try me?”

Nine circles. Nine stars.

The presence radiating from Lapis set Anton’s senses on edge. She was the strongest witch he had ever met. But that did not mean he could not win.

If he devised a way to defeat her, staked his life, and gave up something else, somehow...

As his thoughts reached that point, a question intruded. What did he intend to discard this time? Did he have anything left to discard? And once he killed the witch before him, what would he do next? Anton had no answer.

“You look stumped. Scared?”

“... You.”

“Yes? What?”

“Won’t you kill me? I slaughtered your kind. Tortured them. Am I not your enemy?”

“Not at all?”

Lapis tilted her head.

“Sorry, but the number of humans my kind have killed must be in the millions, at least, if not tens of millions. They died because they deserved to. Besides, I don’t particularly like my own kind.”

“Why?”

“They live consumed by hatred, and it doesn’t look particularly fun. What’s fun about spending your life resenting, snapping, raging, hating, and cursing?”

Lapis spoke as she sipped her tea.

“I tried living that way. It wasn’t fun. Sitting somewhere sunny with a cup of tea, looking at pretty flowers, reading an entertaining novel—that’s much more satisfying.”

“...”

“I’ve killed humans too. I’ve offed plenty who tried to take precious things from me, so aren’t you and I much the same? Insulting you would just be spitting in my own face.”

Lapis filled a cup with a trickle of tea and handed it to Anton.

“Drink.”

“...”

“Or don’t, if you don’t want to. What, can’t stomach tea made by a witch?”

In the end, Anton drank the tea. Though he had spent his life hating witches, for some reason he could not be angry with the woman before him. Instead, she made him feel foolish.

Then, as he sipped, his expression stiffened.

It was not poisoned or anything of the sort. It simply tasted bad. It tasted so fucking awful that Anton spat it out.

“You brewed this crap and called it tea?”

“What? You’re drinking my tea, and you have the nerve to complain—”

“Give it here. That’s not how you make tea.”

“What? Tea is tea.”

“Try it.”

“Making such a fuss. If it tastes the same, you’ll be sorry.”

Lapis sipped the tea and fell silent.

She looked between Anton and the tea in shock, then slowly nodded.

“It’s different. I have to admit it.”

“Of course it is.”

“How did you make this? What’s the method?”

How to make tea. Everyday conversation. Idle chatter.

In the end, Anton spent the entire day chatting before heading home, having forgotten even his purpose of reclaiming his heart. The sunset he saw as he parted with Lapis was beautiful.

Anton was surprised that he still had the capacity to look at something and find it beautiful.

It was equally surprising that he could become so absorbed in trivial chatter that he forgot his purpose.

“...”

“You’re here? Let’s see what flower you brought today.”

And so...

“Listen, witch.”

“What flower is it today? No other presents?”

Using the recovery of his heart as an excuse...

“Listen.”

“The flowers?”

Anton visited Lapis every day.

“Lapis.”

“Here again?”

From silence to “witch,” and from “witch” to “Lapis.”

The feet that had wandered endlessly in search of witches now carried Anton toward Lapis’s cottage. The hands that had gripped a sword and tortured witches now sought flowers to give her.

“So, Lapis. I found out what happens next in that novel you asked about...”

“Oh? Really? What happens?”

Instead of seeking information to kill witches as he once had, he gathered news that might delight Lapis.

“So...”

They talked. They chatted.

At first, he acted on the pretext of winning Lapis’s favor so she would return his heart. But at some point, that became nothing more than a pretext.

He enjoyed talking with Lapis.

He looked forward to seeing her smile.

He had thought he had discarded it all—how to breathe easily, the sensitivity to find beauty in a landscape, his emotions. Yet all of it had merely been buried beneath the ashes.

“Lapis.”

“Yes, Anton?”

Clear away the ashes, and color remained beneath them. Color returned to his ash-gray life. Pale violet. Looking at the morning glory blooming amid the ashes, Anton smiled.

“Thank you.”

He did not know exactly when it happened.

Was it their first meeting? The moment she took his heart? The moment she offered him tea? The first time he saw her smile? Or was it all of them?

Anton fell in love.

Lapis became everything to him.

A human whose life had been taken by a witch, ironically, felt alive once more because of a witch.

To see Lapis smile just once, Anton ventured into perilous places to pick flowers. To draw a single exclamation of admiration from her, he tidied his appearance. The man who had looked almost like a beggar began to look presentable, and his rags gave way to immaculate clothes fit for a ball.

“The truth is...”

As Anton grew closer to Lapis, she, too, began speaking openly with him.

“Despite what I told you, I don’t particularly like humans. Why do you think I’m the Witch of Distrust? Humans have burned me more than once or twice.”

Distrust.

“To be honest, I don’t trust you either. Fundamentally, I can’t trust anyone. That’s how my Mystery works. I was born that way.”

A witch betrayed by humans, by witches, by the world.

Bearing countless wounds as the price of her trust, the witch smiled bitterly and held out his heart.

“Let’s stop here. I don’t want to be hurt by you.”

“...”

“Here. Just here. Let’s not cross the line, all right? Life is bearable for you now, isn’t it? I return your heart, and you walk away with nothing but good memories. That’s the end. Nice and clean.”

Half his heart.

Anton gave a small smile and said,

“Then keep it. Half of me.”

“What?”

“If you think I’ll betray you, you can crush that heart, can’t you? I’m not asking you to trust me. Doubt me. You can keep doubting me.”

“...”

“I love you, Lapis.”

A brief silence. Then a voice that sounded flustered.

“That came out of nowhere. There’s no atmosphere for it, either.”

“Then we need only create one.”

Anton knelt.

He had brought a ring, but now he had a token more unmistakable than any ring. Anton offered Lapis his heart.

“... Being with me won’t end well for you, you know?”

“Don’t worry. I like fiery women.”

“Love between a witch and a human. There’s no greater taboo. And aren’t you a knight?”

“Then I’ll quit. Simple enough.”

“After all your talk of chivalry, honor, and pride?”

“Something more important is right before me.”

“I...”

“Lapis.”

Anton chuckled.

“Nothing you say will change my mind. You are already everything to me. Whatever excuse you make, I will shake my head.”

“If I date you, I’ll have to leave you.”

“Then I’ll find you.”

“It won’t be easy. It’ll take a very long time.”

“Hmm. That might indeed be difficult. Then, before you leave, could you give me an indelible memory? One that will never fade, however much time passes?”

“You really are a fool.”

Lapis ran a hand down her face.

Blushing for the first time, if only a little, she took Anton’s outstretched hand.

“You chose this.”

“The best choice I’ve ever made. No regrets.”

“You certainly know how to talk.”

As it had originally happened...

“Anton?”

Here, Anton would spend the night with Lapis. The following day, she would leave him. That was what had happened in the past.

But in this moment, Anton made a different choice.

A brief kiss.

Then Anton stepped away from Lapis.

“Let’s leave what comes next for a little while.”

With a splendid smile, Anton handed Lapis a flower. It was the red rose he had tended so that he could give it to her when they met again.

“I’m still dreaming, you see.”

3.

Anton opened his eyes in reality.

Behind him lay the path he had walked. Each step marked, not a single one skipped. Looking ahead, he saw only the stairs leading to the highest floor.

He had completed the trial.

The trial had demanded that he choose between dreams and reality, but Anton had relinquished neither. How could he? He had endured four hundred years by always dreaming of Lapis. Give up that dream? How did that make any sense?

This was Anton Quijano’s answer.

Choosing neither, he had forced his way through the trial. Advancing one step at a time, falling into dreams and waking in reality over and over, he had finally reached his destination.

A firm grip.

Just as Anton’s legs gave out and he began to pitch forward, someone caught his arm. Anton lowered his gaze. Beside him stood his guide.

“Have you woken from your dream?”

“No. I’m still dreaming.”

With Najin’s support, Anton stood.

Up the stairs, to the final floor.

To his journey’s end, where Lapis would be waiting.