99

The shameful hell that had seemed like it would go on forever finally ended, and I pinched the cup of tea timidly offered by the elf who could still be called a girl and downed it in one gulp.

I set the cup—too small for me—on the floor, folded my arms, looked up at the ceiling, and tried to summarize Number Six’s statements in my head.

(An elf who viewed what was in my dwelling as dangerous. From the elves’ perspective, this “taboo” was knowledge from another world that once nearly destroyed the world, and they couldn’t ignore it. The history that led to war with the Empire two hundred years ago was also triggered by that taboo. The outcome looked much the same even if seen differently from what I knew. And —)

It was incomprehensible because she was saying the cause of that “taboo” might have originated with the elves themselves.

I thought, “Did she really have to be so honest?” but the image of pure Number Six was spectacularly shattered—perhaps they were trying to make me complicit by having me cooperate with full knowledge.

Or more accurately, the bit of innocence that had remained was gone.

From what I’d overheard of the conversations when I first came under their control, I’d guessed she was pretty competent.

So I should revise my perception.

Right, let’s get back to “taboo” and put it into a neat summary.

• Originally it indicated knowledge from another world, but now it denotes things so dangerous they could destroy the world.

• The war with the Empire was sparked by existing “otherworldly knowledge,” but they couldn’t identify its ultimate source.

• It’s highly possible that the origin of the “taboo” lay with the elves.

That was the gist.

As for the last point, Number Six said:

“It began when an elf, called a genius who believed absolutely in the existence of a ‘different world,’ opened that door, and afterward people were born who held memories of the otherworld.”

They hadn’t observed such phenomena before; it was only confirmed after he forced large-scale experiments and died. The most convincing theory now was that a distortion arose in the world and caused such things to happen.

After that, nations among humanity began to appear that had clearly different technological systems from their neighbors.

At first the elves only watched, unsure what it meant; but when the Empire — which had conquered the southern continent — expanded northward, they received shocking information.

There existed a person who called himself a “reincarnator,” the key figure behind the Empire’s rapid expansion.

Though famed as a genius inventor, he was also a strategist excellent at internal affairs and military matters; with his rise, the Empire’s dramatic leap became the famous tale known today as the “Record of the Fall of the Ranu Empire,” but behind it was someone possessing otherworldly knowledge.

And she said our Fullretos Empire likely had such a “reincarnator,” too.

Indeed, the Empire’s advanced technology, completely different from neighboring nations, would appear so, and given the circumstances it was a possibility worth considering.

If the elves had been able to identify the true source, I might have simply nodded along, but the circumstantial evidence was a bit thin.

After all, it was all in the past, so I didn’t need to be convinced to that degree, but having lived through that era, I still had feelings about the elves’ unreasonable intervention.

That said, I couldn’t say what I wanted to say; in the current situation, where I might be the object of the “taboo,” silence was the way to survive.

Sorry to my ancestors, but bearing the weight of the Empire alone — no, bearing it as a single beast — was too much.

Fortunately, the people had fled south and founded a new nation; having removed one obstacle, they would likely expand northward again.

They would make contact eventually, so I concluded I could just dump it on the future where I was gone and sighed deeply, lowering my gaze to face Number Six.

“Have you reached an answer?”

She asked quietly, but the question felt like pressure.

Cooperate with her and help erase the Empire’s traces — or keep my base and distance myself from the elves; that was the choice before me.

There was an option to “fulfill my duty as an Imperial soldier,” but, to be frank, it would gain me nothing, so there was no reason to choose it.

It came down to my feelings — though the reality that I couldn’t live long complicated things.

So it wasn’t surprising that my thoughts leaned toward “let’s use the elves for our benefit.”

I nodded slowly and quietly, then wrote on the memo and handed it to Number Six.

She read the paper that said, “I will cooperate — with conditions,” and nodded to show her acceptance.

Whether that was trust that I wouldn’t say anything strange, or compensation for taking my dwelling — I didn’t know which carried more weight — but Number Six nodded even before I stated the terms.

Maybe a cultural difference was at play, but she was remarkably composed when dealing with a fearsome monster like me.

I made two demands.

One: if the elves discovered similar facilities in the future, they would inform me of their locations.

Two: when they destroyed such facilities, they would take me along.

In short, I wanted them to find my “third person” for me.

Since Number Six had some reason to associate with someone who looked entirely like a monster, it wouldn’t be wrong to have them help extend my life, even a little.

She tilted her head at my conditions but didn’t press me on the reason; things proceeded more smoothly than I expected.

Probably there was some plausible reason I didn’t know about.

I chose the route of cooperating with the elves.

Now mattered more than then.

I believed the result would likely be better.

Still, housing me was problematic.

“Think carefully. This is the monster that devoured that ‘nightmare,’ you know?”

Said a male elf who looked like an attendant, and Number Six made an “ah” face.

That little absent-mindedness was endearing.

But putting me in an elven village was objectively impossible.

(I expected it too, but hearing it spelled out made me think, “Yeah, that’s impossible.”)

My dream of cultural exchange with the elves would have to wait.

Besides, it would be a race against time as long as I remained alive.

I let out a gruff “gyaa-gyaa” and a few people visibly backed away in fear.

I wasn’t so delicate as to be hurt, but children usually had more flexible thinking — or rather greater adaptability — than adults.

After some discussion, it was decided I would stay here for the night… but there weren’t many buildings I could enter, and with low ceilings I might accidentally break things, so I would spend the night outside.

Also, elves from other clans had been watching the grounds from around the perimeter, so sneaking out was impossible; I would spend the night bored outside.

With no bed to prepare, there was nothing to do but read, so they brought several books from the study.

They made a light source by conjuring a magic orb and covering it with a paper box.

Still, I felt a little guilty that someone had to come by every hour to refresh the spell.