Dwarves do not shed tears.
Roarock could not do that.
That’s all there is to the story.
“The story is over. You bastard.”
Roarock’s expression was strange. His face appeared to be both relieved and sad at the same time.
It wasn’t easy to discern that expression due to the chestnut beard covering half his face.
But even without seeing Roarock’s face, I could tell. I knew what he felt, what emotions he was experiencing.
“…The story is over.”
“……”
“Yes, it’s over. This is the end…”
I quietly turned my head. I took a cigarette case out from my pocket and offered one to Roarock.
Roarock stared blankly at the cigarette I extended for a while, then shook his head in refusal. I smoothly put the cigarette case back into my pocket.
“Now is not the time to smoke.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yeah. You should smoke to your heart’s content.”
I took a drag of the cigarette. With a snap, the match flared up.
I brought it to the cigarette and remembered to open the living room window wide.
The lukewarm air of a midsummer night flowed into the living room. The sound of insects grew louder.
“Roarock.”
“Why do you call me, human?”
“Lucio Antorelli. That’s my name.”
“……”
“People around me call me Professor Antorelli, but feel free to call me however you like.”
I released the wispy smoke of the cigarette without any attachment.
Was Roarock the same when he bid farewell to Nerwen?
It felt sweet at this moment, but eventually, it would slowly rot my insides. I released the smoke that gnawed at me without attachment.
Would Roarock have had no lingering feelings for Nerwen?
“Hey. Anto… whatever you call yourself, Professor.”
I stopped smoking and looked down at Roarock. His chestnut eyes were fixed on me.
“Aren’t you a religious man? I heard humans serve a god.”
“That’s right. We serve the Lord.”
Dwarves are fundamentally atheists. They believe in their own values or the land they were born in but do not believe in the gods we worship.
“I swear by the Mother Mountain that I have never believed in the existence of the god you humans worship.”
“……”
“Once, I picked up a strange book on the battlefield.”
Roarock, as if recalling an old memory, stroked his beard with his fingers while pondering. I waited in silence for him to continue.
“It was a very… very peculiar book. It was the first time in my life that I saw a book the size of a palm.”
Imagining a palm-sized book, I soon guessed what Roarock was talking about.
“It was a book dropped by religious men like you.”
“Are you talking about the Bible?”
“Yes. I think that was its name.”
There were many military chaplains conscripted in the Empire, so it wasn’t strange for Roarock to find a Bible on the battlefield.
“I hear that among the lands ruled by your god, there is a place called heaven.”
I took out the small Bible I always carried around and opened it. Roarock’s eyes widened slightly.
“Yes, that’s the book. It looks exactly the same as the one I found.”
– Flitter. Flitter.
I did not respond to Roarock’s words and silently turned the pages of the book. When I did not utter a word, Roarock naturally closed his mouth as well.
“In the place you will come to, it is the garden of Heaven, the Father’s Kingdom, the city of the living Lord. It is the gathering of the firstborn, recorded forever in the heavens with ten thousand angels, and the place where the spirits of the believers will dwell in completeness.”
“…That sounds like a bunch of nonsense.”
“When I saw the multitudes of all creatures and nations entering the place prepared by the Lord, they would neither thirst nor hunger, and they would not be harmed by the sun or any heat, for the Lord guides them to the fountain of the water of life, and they will enjoy eternal delight.”
I closed the Bible. Roarock’s expression seemed complicated.
“Hmm… Anyway, it’s just a comfortable place where one can play and eat for a lifetime.”
“A place without worries or concerns… Yes. That’s right.”
“Will Nerwen also be able to go there?”
I kept my mouth shut. It was because I could not answer Roarock’s question purely and honestly.
The most ideal and correct answer would be that if one believes in the Lord, they could go there, but the elves…
“You know, Lucio.”
The elves who participated in the Great War must have killed humans again and again.
“Surely you don’t actually think that elves can enter heaven?”
I glanced at the source of the voice. Golden-haired strands peeked over my shoulder.
“Answer me. Tell that dwarf that such elves cannot step foot in heaven.”
I shut my eyes. The voice I had heard a moment ago also vanished.
‘What would Helena have answered?’
The answer to that was simple. I slowly opened my eyes and spoke to Roarock.
“Yes. They can go.”
To be honest, I still didn’t understand well. How could I be the judge of such matters?
However, it seemed it was the right answer. Someone whispered in my ear.
“Well done, Lucio. That was a good answer.”
“……”
“If I were in a position to answer, I would have said the same. You’re right.”
A faint breath tickled my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again.
The breath and the voice were gone.
Before me, there was just one small dwarf with his head bowed.
“…Thank you, Professor.”
Professor. Was that what I decided to call him?
I slowly nodded my head. It was not an enthusiastic nod. I had to observe the situation.
Because I felt a gaze from afar.
Perhaps noticing my awkward gesture, Roarock smacked his lips and scratched his beard. I heard a crisp sound.
“Well, I want to go and see this heaven someday if the time comes.”
“You must become a clean and pure soul to go there, Roarock.”
“Huh? What does that mean?”
“It means you have to die to go.”
“Damn it, I know that too.”
How could I possibly say it? That we, who had stained our hands with the blood of countless people, could not be sure we could go to heaven.
And how could I think such a thing? It is difficult for me to assure even myself that Nerwen, or even Helena, could have gone to heaven.
I set aside my complicated thoughts. This was because Roarock was looking at me blankly.
“What’s wrong?”
“…Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Even though I said that, it seemed like he still had something he wanted to ask, as his beard continued to twitch. I could roughly guess what he was trying to question.
“…Roarock.”
“What?”
“I believe that for every coming, there should be a going.”
“……”
“Since I’ve listened to your story, how about I share mine this time?”
To be honest, it was a topic I did not want to share with anyone.
My first concern was that others might not empathize with my experience, the second was the fear that I might be branded a murderer again as before, and the third was the worry that the pain I felt might be contagious.
However, Roarock was a person with whom I could purely set those worries aside. Perhaps, I had longed for such a conversation partner.
Not someone like Cesar, who was consumed by revenge, nor like Meijhem, who had risen above past wounds with a prosthetic arm… but just an ordinary civilian who barely survived.
From that perspective, Roarock was the ideal audience.
“My story ends here.”
After Professor Antorelli finished his tale, Roarock Ironhammer noticed that the morning sunlight was lightly spilling through the living room window.
“…It’s already morning.”
“That’s right.”
“It’s maddening. I’ve been awake the whole day.”
Unlike the last night spent with Nerwen, Roarock swallowed his words.
“I enjoyed the story. I don’t know if it’s appropriate to say this, but…”
“That’s fine.”
Professor Antorelli’s expression was subtle. Though humans have facial features similar to dwarves, Roarock had found it particularly difficult to read the expressions of humans.
It was probably because of his beard. Having only lived among dwarves whose beards covered half their faces, meeting those whose mouths and noses were clearly visible must have been utterly confusing.
That was not the case now. Perhaps due to the year spent with Nerwen, Roarock could discern the expression that appeared on Professor Antorelli’s face.
It was relief.
Looking at that face full of undefined relief, Roarock thought.
Both Roarock, who had spent three lonely years after Nerwen’s death without anyone to talk to, and Professor Antorelli, who was looking for someone to whom he could fully open up and empathize.
“We were both the same.”
It turned out that the need for someone to share stories with was mutual. Roarock let out a faint sigh and stood up.
“Whoa…!”
“Are you leaving already?”
“Yeah. I have to go now.”
“…How about taking breakfast with you?”
“That is….”
It was a tempting offer. After having lived for three years by digging up roots or eating the flesh of foul-smelling beasts, a warm meal was something Roarock could not refuse.
However, Roarock shook his head. There was something more important than eating right now. Roarock pointed to the stairs.
“The little ones are still sleeping, aren’t they? If we prepare breakfast now, it’ll surely be too noisy and disturb their sleep.”
“If we do it quietly… ”
“Don’t worry about it. I have somewhere I need to go first.”
Roarock gathered the rifle that had fallen to the floor. The old rifle clanked as it rested on his shoulder.
As Roarock walked towards the front door, he stopped, turning back. Professor Antorelli, basking in the morning sunlight pouring through the living room window, was standing there, looking at Roarock blankly.
“…Hey, Professor.”
“Yes, Roarock?”
“Will Nerwen really be able to go to heaven?”
“……”
“Just… I, in fact…”
Roarock’s beard twitched. The words that had lingered in his mouth were swallowed down into the depths of his throat.
Roarock smiled wryly and shook his head at Professor Antorelli, who was waiting for his answer.
“Never mind. Well then, I’ll take my leave.”
“Yes. I shall prepare breakfast shortly, so come if you think of it.”
“…Alright.”
Roarock did not look back. As his short legs stepped out of the lodge and away from the neatly arranged grass around, he soon entered the tall trees that lined the forest.
He did not look back.
Roarock walked straight ahead.
As for the direction, it was a place he had visited hundreds, thousands of times over the past three years, so it was as obvious as flipping his palm. There was no hesitation in his steps.
At last, he arrived at the place.
“…Nerwen.”
Roarock approached the gravestone, which was veiled by the morning sunlight’s soft curtain. He placed his hand on the rough gravestone.
“Good morning.”
He muttered softly. Roarock took a deep breath and fished something out from his pocket.
It was a cigarette. Even while bullets were getting wet from the rain, he had kept this safely, cherishing it like a lifeline.
“I met a religious human. Nerwen.”
When he opened the cigarette case, the cigarettes were intact, as good as new. Thanks to his care in preserving them without letting them get damp.
After pondering for a moment, Roarock placed a cigarette between his lips. His fingers holding the cigarette trembled slightly.
“I heard they say you went to a place called heaven.”
The dead do not speak. Roarock continued weaving words that floated in the air.
“I truly hope that is the case… but I suppose you could not have.”
Roarock was not a fool. He took comfort in Professor Antorelli’s words, which told him that it was alright to say that he could go for his sake, but the Bible he had read long ago stated that murder was a grave sin.
‘I know. That Nerwen and I won’t be able to go to that place called heaven, even after death.’
If that god accepts sinners, would that god not be insane? Roarock lit the cigarette.
“Ahhh…”
The taste of the cigarette, which he hadn’t had in a long time, was bitter and nauseating, unlike before. Had his taste changed?
“Even if you may not have gone to heaven… you would have opened your eyes in a new place.”
A world without cares and concerns.
A world where there is no need to kill anyone, and where people can appreciate the beautiful heart hidden beneath Nerwen’s prickly exterior.
“A world like that… a different world.”
The final smoke of the cigarette lingered in the air.
It was a cigarette he had decided to smoke once he escaped from this place, but for some reason, Roarock did not feel regret.
Since he had run up to Nerwen, leaving behind the exit labeled ‘escape.’
The dead do not speak, but Roarock felt as if she were smiling softly.
A short while later, on the gravestone of the small dwarf, there lay an old bullet, sitting quietly.
It was the last bullet Roarock had kept just in case.
Perhaps it was not trying to leave the forest.
