It’s the weekend.
Normally, I would have spent the day observing the activities of the harvesting machine in my room.
But today is different.
I’ve been summoned by the royal castle.
Since I live completely dependent on them, I have no right to refuse. So when I said I would go, they dressed me in fancier clothes than usual.
They even put light makeup on my face.
Huh?
They didn’t do this when I went to meet the king last time. What’s going on?
Isn’t this a bit too much?
Polaris and Kanna.
Based on my memories of the noble ladies from the Barrington Marquisate and Duke Shiodore, I can now appreciate the value of the clothes, perfume, and various accessories I’m wearing.
These are outfits suitable for a very formal occasion.
What could possibly be going on at the royal castle?
With questions swirling in my mind, I followed the person leading me to the royal castle.
Here’s something amusing.
Instead of a horse, there’s a wheeled carriage being pulled by some unknown bipedal creature. The creature looks somewhat like the horses of this world.
Strangely enough, memories trickle into my head, explaining how horses in this world differ from the faded memories of my own.
I can’t compare the creatures because I don’t know how much light they had back in my faded world.
Plus, I’ve never actually seen a horse!
Even when I watch people on TV, I can’t see any light, so I guess I might never know. Though if I could return to the world I was born into, who knows?
Every world I confirmed through the harvesting machine, without exception, had some form of special power, whether it was magic, qi, or whatever name you give it.
Even a world where humans were heavily reliant on machines for life.
Moreover, the timelines…
I entered the royal castle while recalling places I could never return to.
*
Once inside the royal castle, someone who has never introduced herself but is clearly the head maid approached me.
If she were the head maid, she wouldn’t answer directly, and her three subordinates would respond, so that would be an important misunderstanding.
A rather elderly woman quietly entered, scrutinizing my outfit with care. If I dismissed her emotions, it just looked like she was adjusting clothes, but her face said otherwise.
“Did I do it right?”
“Yes, you did.”
She kept repeating this. When she finally said she was done, satisfaction was evident on her face. Everyone in my accommodation seems to be quite skilled.
After she left, a young man dressed as a knight entered. He’s just become an adult, but the insignia on his armor clearly indicates he’s not an ordinary person. Talents like him can be found anywhere.
With a mix of curiosity and wariness, he greeted me.
Then, he used quite a long word to describe himself and said the king had summoned me, asking me to follow him.
So, I followed.
His gaze drifted towards my hands, thighs, belly, and arms—not for any strange reason, but to check if I was hiding any weapons.
I’d thought the royal castle was unusually generous towards me, but this makes me wonder if they truly suspect something.
The problem is that up until now, I have no idea what’s going on in the royal castle, where I’m being taken, or any of that.
But I know now.
Actually, the correct way to put it is that I didn’t realize it until now but now I do.
Princess Aurora, the second princess.
She’s supposedly preparing to meet the distinguished guests from foreign lands.
In other words, I’ve come earlier and prepared ahead of the princess.
Huh? Is that right?
No, as someone of lower status, it should be right for me to arrive first.
Normally, those in power make their entrance later.
Not waiting for themselves, but making others wait.
That’s one way to display authority.
Of course, they might call me a fool for not being able to match their timing, but those who can pull that off have power above such things.
In short, if I’m unhappy, I can just go home.
So I guess I just need to get ready and wait.
I process that understanding and continue to follow the knight.
He’s one of those men I occasionally glimpsed in Princess Aurora’s memories. A young person who has risen to a high position at a young age, so he must come from a good background.
Unless he participates in a war and suffers major injury, it’s unlikely he’d become a harvesting machine. Unless he grows old and sick, begging for a new life?
It might not be a bad idea to establish a rapport for later, roughly 80 years into the future.
Yet, I remain inactive for now.
There are too many uncertainties.
Even if I intend to move confidently, charging blindly into the unknown fog is risky.
If I fail, it wouldn’t matter, but I must avoid being branded as some evil entity in this world.
I’m aware I’m a monster that devours people, and I understand that if that were revealed, it would be over for me.
I must back off quietly.
Crushing the world?
I won’t do that.
The moment I choose to break the world, there’s no turning back.
From that moment, I’ll become a harvested being, finding some reason to break this world for the warmth it brings.
That warmth was truly intoxicating.
Like something that shook me to my core, wanting to obtain it again, pondering whether to crush the world without care.
It’s like a drug.
And I’m no fool who believes I can return once I’ve touched the drug.
Like a monkey with electrodes in its head starving while pressing a button to die, I’d end up the same.
No, I’m worse.
Those creatures can die.
I can’t even die. It’s impossible for me. All I can do is sink to the bottom eternally, trembling as I gather the warmth that falls to me.
Since I can never face the end of losing life, I must be more cautious.
If only I could die, I’d be bolder. Instead, I frequently miss opportunities, advancing step by step, wondering if there might be a better way I could try.
Moreover, the basic structure is already laid out here.
There’s no need to do anything special; I can leisurely spend my time.
Staring into the future, a hundred or a thousand years ahead. Though I can’t tell how many years this body can still live.
I have memories of Daegon, and if Daegon descends, he could modify himself or bring something useful, versioning up so he wouldn’t know when he’d grow old and die. They say by switching bodies, he can grind it into magic, which is a remarkably efficient process, as recorded in memory.
By the way, was Choseol also scheduled to give birth to the next version of Daegon and be discarded? From Daegon’s perspective, it was like a subcontractor suddenly adding something strange, causing the headquarters to explode.
Still, if my body breaks down, the descendants of the harvesting machine could help me grind them as I ascend into this world.
So with a relaxed mindset, I thought, as I entered the room the knight guided me to.
It was a very spacious area. And there were various races of people all around me.
If it’s a faded memory, I’d call them races instead of simply ethnicities. To be honest, both Kanna and Polaris would be considered a tiger-like beastman and a bear-like beastman according to my faded memories. Of course, they are the lowest tier of beastmen.
They only have ears or tails.
Looks like they always end up following their mother’s race.
Daegon’s memory sparkled. Strictly speaking, both appear. If the races differ, the internal connecting nodes are treated as foreign substances, preventing proper implantation.
Wasn’t that a bit fantasy-ish? But why is there this kind of law when beasts are mixed in?
Oh. Parts of the genes that can use magic are intertwined with the spirit information, and, through the progenitor spirit division synthesis, they project a single image?
What’s this progenitor spirit division synthesis? A universally applicable rule observed in all worlds? Progenitor is the name of a biologist famed for winning awards on that planet… no, never mind. I don’t want to know the details.
My memories gleamed like a storm. My job here is to find the right pieces and fit them together.
And that takes time.
Ugh.
Having memories but not understanding what they mean feels frustrating.
In any case, there’s such a law.
Walking through various types of races, I arrived in front of Highpion.
The king, upon seeing me, bows graciously. Among the gestures used by kings, this is quite a high-level gesture. It’s almost as if bowing to some royalty elsewhere.
The surroundings buzz with conversation.
“Thank you for responding to my invitation. The owner of miracles. The lion of regeneration. Bell.”
Ah.
So that’s it.
They are determined to sanctify me openly.
The way the humans look at me contains no sense of holiness, yet they manage to say that. I notice. Who did I mainly receive warmth from in that very first world?
It was from fanatics.
So, if they’re not worshiping me but merely looking to use me, I’ll gladly accept it.
If they worship me as a god, I might have truly cursed them.
Yes.
That’s right.
“I’ll come whenever someone calls for me. Just say the word. Who should I share myself with?”
The character speaks clearly, stating only the most important things. Without knowing anything, I seem to speak like a puppet doing what I’m told.
The truth is, anyone can call for me.
Anyone can share me.
Thus, greedy humans will seek to limit and control me.
There, I can just sit back and observe.
Who is the strongest, who is secretly making deals, who harbors the greatest desires.
No one is cautious about a simple tool. They guard against those using the tool. Even the highly cautious Yasle eventually lowered his guard and found himself wary of those approaching me.
This is clearly a hunting tactic that’s already been validated.
Slowly, I let my fishing line back down below the surface.
