Reaper's Crown

Ch. 42 | Heiress

Genni instinctively pushed the boomerang further into its sheath, and walked towards the mentioned bed, finding it empty. Glancing up, everyone beamed, as if welcoming the girl to the abode. She stared up, hearing the muffled echoes of whatever could've been above, but didn't seem to concern her. After all, she was elsewhere at the moment.

The rains from above poured relentlessly, but here, everything was dry, neat and well-kept. Everyone was smiling, and there were no expectations she was to meet.

"What do you call yourselves?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

The man's beam changed into a harmless grin before his mouth formed the word. "Swannes."

"So, Swannes, with a cathedral inside of a cave, believe in the power of humans?" she asked.

"Have you heard of Pasto, my friend?" he asked.

"Some of the people of my village are greatly devoted to the said faith."

"Precisely. Although, when they're waiting for a sign from the hands, we're anticipating the simple opportunity to prove our humanity. Once a year, we make sure to give as much as we can."

"Pasto strives for achieving peace amongst the deities." someone else added, and Genni turned towards their voice. "We strive to achieve peace among humans."

What could be considered a human, in such a case? She saw instances of Beastmen deeming themselves as such but tried to sway towards the things she'd already seen. Particularly, the image of Ingo and Morio almost killing each other over a meaningless victory. If there aren't any demons or wretched creatures to kill, they'll fight each other.

Then, she thought about herself.

She began to recall scratching drawings of herself so vividly. Like that itself could never be perfect.

Genni's eyes gleamed, her smile subsiding into an unsure frown.

"Is something the matter?" the leader asked.

"What's your name?" she quickly answered with a question.

"Sir Ton," he replied.

"Mom always told me that a name given at birth is a sort of... mark of your existence. Like a scar that doesn't fade away, it stays with you until you die."

"Of course." he nodded, placing a hand on his chest. "A name is only a part of what creates a perfect human, but... nobody is born perfect."

"A perfect human," she repeated, staring forwards, blankly, then back at the empty cradle. Each Swannes member stepped back. "Is this what you strive for?"

"Exactly, my friend," he answered, walking up to the cradle, approaching it from the other side and then trying to gaze at Genni's wide-open eyes. "Think of change, for that matter. Things will never turn great if they remain in the same, unwoven, dim light."

Genni gulped. A promise so divine, that it's terrifying, but at the same time, consolingly heavenly.

"What does one have to do, Sir Ton, for them to become perfect?"

"They have to be themselves," he replied, shaking.

"How do you act like yourself?" Genni continued.

"It's difficult. You never realise how much you pretend to be the person you're not. Swannes, though, we don't act. We don't show our faces to other people. They don't see our bodies, they only hear the voice and feel the human on the other side."

She squinted her eyes, as Sir Ton's mouth opened.

"What do you say then? Are you convinced?" he asked, and Genni took an unsure step back.