level_act18side_06_end

*pant*... *pant*...

Kreide, I'm coming! Stop playing the cello!

Are you trying to get yourself killed?!

That...

That is something I've considered.

I'll draw all the slugs over with the sound of my cello, and then... burn myself to ashes, along with them.

But now that you're here... I probably won't have a chance to do that anymore.

Kreide, why...?

Ever since I was little, I knew there was something wrong with me.

The Infected who spent a lot of time around me... their sickness kept getting worse and worse.

My grandpa and I were chased out of our home for it. We started wandering between villages.

I always thought, it wasn't all Infected people. That as long as they didn't spend too much time around me, they'd be fine.

But my grandpa's condition finally started to deteriorate, and that shattered my first illusion.

After that, Hibiscus told us about the phenomenon of 'false recovery.' I've already caused such serious damage in the short time since I came to the Afterglow.

If me living brings calamity to others, then I would rather die.

It's not your fault!

How is it not my fault?

––Do you know about the Voice of Mundane?

Now that you mention it, I... think I'm finally starting to remember.

About the Voice of Mundane, those who died in the experiment, the Witch King's remains... and you.

I remember it all now.

That's why none of this is your fault!

The Witch King and his remains are to blame, as well as Gertrude – but you're innocent!

Hmm...

Thank you for reminding me that this isn't something I was born with. It was the foul product of an experiment.

I couldn't remember either until I heard the sound of your cello, so I should be thanking you.

But...

'But' what?

The situation has already spiraled out of control. I can't even mitigate the harm I cause anymore.

Besides, if the Gräfin's words are true, then my days are numbered. I might as well do something here...

No!

Why would I get myself tricked by Gertrude? Voices of the Mundane can be swapped out!

But mine is already corrupted... Even if I were to transfer it to your...

We won't know until we try!

If you're already prepared to die, then what are you still scared of?

I don't want to hurt you.

You can worry about that if something bad actually happens to me.

Until then, let's make a wager.

Fine.

Can you normally feel the melody of the Voice of Mundane?

Whether I'm performing or casting Arts, I can always vaguely feel the presence of the Voice... I know this shrill melody well by now, even though it's not at all mine.

I know.

Mine isn't shrill. If anything, it's gentle – Rather, I should say that it's so harmonious, almost to the point of being an empty void.

Let's try our best to match the melodies we've experienced, and put them together.

Put them together...? But we don't have an audience.

No, look at the audience all around us.

The Originium slugs?

Playing to Originium slugs the melodies that the old bastard left behind is quite fitting, if you ask me – humane, even.

As soon as the sounds of flute and cello intermingle, both men immediately recognize the problem.

There is hardly any consonance between their two melodies.

The flute's voice is urgent, manic, and harsh. It speeds up and slows down, as if filled with an urge to drag everything before it into the abyss.

The cello's voice is languid, melancholic, and hollow. Its rhythm remains constant, akin to a land ground down to nothingness by Catastrophe.

But the two brace themselves and persevere, continuing their duet that is not a duet.

The slugs surge forward like the tide.

Underneath a noxious sky, the two men whose lives have been twisted by their Voices of the Mundane continue their discordant duet, reading the score of a melody that they never knew existed in their minds, playing before an audience of Originium slugs.

The more Ebenholz follows this train of thought, the more he feels himself approaching the coda of the Voice of Mundane's melody.

He puts more force behind his breaths, while the sounds of Kreide's cello grow heavier and hollower.

Ebenholz, I...

Ebenholz lowers his head to look towards Kreide. Kreide's head has already begun to droop. His hand continues bowing, but the cello's sound becomes dimmer and dimmer, getting closer and closer to nothingness.

Suddenly, in this moment, Ebenholz seems to realize something.

So, he uses his remaining strength to blow one final sforzando.

Kreide also seems to be struggling, laboriously sawing at the thickest string on the instrument.

Their music spreads like an alarm bell.

The slugs that had been frantically rushing towards the pair of musicians suddenly retreat just as quickly, as if they have seen a predator.

Kreide... Are you still with me...?

Kreide, are you still awake?

(Draws heavy breaths)

...I'm awake.

How's that? Can you still hear the melody of your Voice of Mundane?

To be honest, it seems even clearer now.

Sorry, I acted without thinking.

But on the bright side, we managed to drive away the Originium slugs––

Hold on...

Kreide, what's wrong?

The new suit you bought for me––

Oh good, it hasn't been soiled.

Probably doesn't smell too good though, right?

True enough.

It's fine. I bet you can't even imagine how much I reek right now.

Speaking of which, this wouldn't be the first time I've gotten myself into this mess.

That time, a fire broke out not far from the Spire of Urtica. Instead of going to put out the fire, the Spire's attendants all rushed over to make sure I couldn't go anywhere.

They were afraid you'd run away?

Afraid that I'd run away, afraid that I'd go into hiding, afraid that I'd die in that sea of fire...

They worried about you dying?

Nearly all the windows in the Spire had Arts-enhanced bars and locks, just in case I tried to jump off.

I was a prized figurehead. If I went off and died, they wouldn't have been able to endure the consequences.

In the end, the flames never reached the Spire, but I did get marinated in the smell of smoke.

I wore that smoke-soaked coat for a good half month and didn't take it off until the weather warmed.

That brings back old memories here as well.

After my grandpa and I were run out of our old home, we started to wander between some of the more affluent villages.

Most people were pretty friendly to us, as long as we hid the fact that we were Infected.

I read in novels that during the harvest season, friendly villagers would prepare bratwurst and beer for the day workers at night so that they could eat and drink to their heart's content.

(Shakes head)

The friendly villagers threw some spare change at us and shooed us out of the village before nightfall, in fear that we'd steal things.

The not-so-friendly villagers prepared some rock-hard Schwarzbrot, and pointed weapons at us, intended to make us fall in line.

One time, I was helping a villager out with some farm work.

It was really hot that day and I was dripping with sweat, so I wanted to loosen my clothes while nobody was around.

Right before I was about to take off my shirt, I heard a commotion not far away.

Grandpa rushed over and told me to run, saying that one of the workers rolled up his sleeves thinking nobody was watching, accidentally revealing the Originium crystals on his arm.

The villagers immediately threw him into an abandoned cellar and locked him up, and then set out to check everyone else, one-by-one.

If not for Grandpa, I might've also died in that cellar.

Died–– They actually kill the Infected?

They didn't need to, nor did they dare.

All they had to do was wait for them to starve, crystallize, and explode...

Hasn't there been a long-standing law to treat the Infected with dignity?

I never knew about a decree like that until I first set foot in a nomadic city.

I—

I, I'm...

I'm so sorry...

I don't know what to say.

You have nothing to apologize for. You were also deceived by the Gräfin...

No, what I mean is, if I had been a little braver back then... If I, if I had spoken up back then, maybe you wouldn't have had to––

I'm sorry...

Really, you don't have anything to apologize for.

Just as you said, the Voice of Mundane was made by man. The blame falls on those who sought to use the Voice of Mundane, not on you.

I protected you in the manner I could...

Just like you're trying to protect me now.

You're right.

Thank you, Kreide.

Come, let's find Hibiscus and Herr Czerny... They'll know what to do, I'm sure of it.

And then, we'll have that Voice of Mundane removed from you. You can thank me properly after that.

Let's go––

Kreide?!

Kreide's condition is more or less stable. The reason he passed out most likely has to do with the poison.

We've rescued a number of poisoning patients whose signs and symptoms largely match with Kreide's.

But on the subject of Kreide's future... the Countess probably didn't lie. Overall, his condition is on the edge of critical.

So, you'll help us, won't you?

I... want to trust the two of you, I really do.

But I need proof.

Even if it's circumstantial evidence, I need some objective facts to show that the Voice of Mundane isn't baseless speculation, but a part of an imminent plot––

Sir?!

Where've you been? We've been looking all over for you!

Lies? Speculation?

Can you be a hundred percent sure that what you say is true?

What you said to Kreide... Do you know that he almost died along with those Originium slugs because of your words?!

Ebenholz, is that true...?

(Nods slightly)

Had Ebenholz not found him first, you would've never seen him again!

I'm telling you, the Voice of Mundane is real. That I swear on my life!

What do you mean?

I don't have time to explain it to you right now. I have work to do.

But, I need to...

You're among the most stubborn folk I've ever met.

Go to the lounge of the concert hall, and you'll understand everything.

Right, the concert hall!

Gertrude said she did something to Afterglow Hall to make it match with the Arts during the duet!

Alright, let's go right away–

There's also Czerny. Make sure you bring him as well, in case neither of you can convince the other.

I have to go now.

Sir, you...

Ebenholz and Hibiscus trade glances.

They are both suspicious, but they are also running out of time.