nowell

The snow will cover all dirty deeds.

Shut up—SHUT UP!!

You can hardly stand, Eroshka. Why not use that last bit of strength to hear me out?

I've seen all this because I've been cursed to live forever, until I find the one thing that I can never again possess...

You're telling me there's something you can't find, even with a power like that?

Happiness.

I swear, if this is some kind of joke—

I came here, because I've searched everywhere I can for the one who cursed me.

But the more I see, the more pain I feel, and the further I am from happiness and the sweet release of death.

Therefore, I won't say things like 'at least you're alive'. It's nothing to celebrate. All I can say is, at least you have a choice.

You can walk into the fire, or kill yourself some other way.

Or, if you still blame me and want to kill me, you can keep living...

And come to find me, just as I seek the one who did this to me.

No, don't... you can't go.

Where will I find you?

To tell the truth? I don't know.

All I can give you is a token.

Ooh la la...

I said I'd come to find you.

This is the token you gave me.

Nowell looks at the object in the old man's hand.

It is a pair of glasses. The lenses have shattered; one side of the frame bears traces of repeated repairs, having clearly seen better days, while the other side seems good as new.

...You kept them.

Of course I did.

Did I tell you that I made them to try to end my own life?

I failed, of course.

Nowell takes the glasses and pulls out the arm on the new side.

They look at the sharp, long needle inside.

You didn't, but I can imagine.

And they say the men of Ursus lack imagination.

If imagination is the only way to get through certain forms of suffering, then it's a power that few in this land lack.

True. Only imagination, but for imagination...

You polished it.

Why? It wasn't just to hold up a young girl who knew nothing, was it?

I've been looking for you. You know what this means.

You're a man of your word. You want to kill me.

Yes, but not entirely.

You've reached the age when you start to babble nonsense.

I know exactly what I'm saying.

You can choose to kill me, or you can choose not to. There is no room for ambiguity between life and death, nor is there a transitional state between them, most of the time.

Nowell reinserts the needle into the frame and gives them back to the old man.

The man snorts.

What if I came to kill you, and save you too?

What?

What if I realized there wasn't anyone in particular I could hate for that tragedy... and yet I was powerless to fight the greater forces behind it?

I had some connections to this land. Then I lost it all, and there wasn't even anyone I could hate for it.

Yet you remained obsessed with looking for me, as I was once obsessed with...

Because I was the only one who lived. I saw suffering, but I could do nothing about it. I was alive, but not truly so!

Yes, I started to understand you. You saved me, and the thought of searching for you kept me going all these years. That's why I wanted to repay the favor.

I lived because I was cursed never to die. You lived because you were strong.

Strong. Ha, strong! Let's just say it was so.

After you left, I was captured and sentenced to the mines, but had the good fortune to be conscripted before I came down with Oripathy.

On the battlefield, I had my brushes with death, but each and every time I was the lucky one who lived...

That was when I decided I would find a method to kill anyone.

You found it, didn't you?

Yes... I think I did.

There is a light in the old man's eyes that belies his age. He grabs Nowell's hands with fire in those eyes, and puts a glass bottle in his hand.

Nowell sees a cloudy liquid swirling in the bottle.

This is how I repay you, Nowell. No need to continue a hopeless journey in search of happiness. Drink it, and it'll all be over—

I get my revenge, you get your release.

In alphabetical order... E... Eroshka...

Found him! The electronic records were broken, but thankfully there were paper files.

Military backpack... bread, water bottle, two books, four medals, a photo...

Grey jacket with a pair of glasses in the pocket, and—

...Two glass bottles filled with liquid?

What's in the bottles? Were the bottles opened and examined, or was he asked to take a sip?

No... damn it, no! He got through a needle as thick as a wheat stalk—who knows what's in those bottles?!

He's—

He's with Operator Nowell, who's not carrying his Arts Unit. I have to—

Mr. Nowell—Mr. Nowell!

You—

She runs out in time to see the old man's punch find Nowell's chest.

Nowell does not dodge or block and stumbles back a few steps.

*cough*—!

Uh—

Mr. Nowell! Are you alright?

What happened? Why did he hit you? Did he take out anything unusual...?

The medic operator's attention turns to the ground, where a broken glass bottle lies, its shards and a dark mark resting in the snow.

...Huh?

By the time she looks up, the old man has left the camp and disappeared from sight.

Are you alright, Mr. Nowell?

Was there an altercation? Are you hurt?

...No, I'm fine.

We—

We just had some catching up to do.

Even you need time to think in the face of such temptation.

I understand. But we don't have much time.

No, I'm just thinking...

What the right way to decline is.

You no longer seek death?

Each day I long for it, more than the day before.

Then there's no reason to refuse, unless you're a coward too.

Few would describe me as brave, but that's not the reason.

You know the only thing that can kill me is happiness, Eroshka. It was a rule that an arrogant, supernatural entity imposed upon me, along with my unwilling immortality.

Now, you claim to be able to break it with a bottle of poison.

Yes.

What if I told you that you could achieve the same by taking that needle out and putting it through my temple, or neck artery?

What...

I am no longer immortal.

What are you trying to say?