Chapter 21: The Curse of the Polar Night

“A curse?”

Kirishima-san affirmed my question with silence. She averted her gaze and stared intently into her cup, her expression heavy and dark. Though she seemed displeased, that wasn’t it. She was suppressing her emotions.

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to talk if it was painful.
But I bit my lip and held back.

This was something we needed to discuss. We decided to fight together as a party.

Kirishima-san exhaled slowly and deeply, then lifted her gaze.

“You saw that grim reaper-like figure with the scythe, right Isshiki?”
“I did.”

“When you’re cursed, that thing occasionally appears behind you. As long as the Undead King exists and we’re in the [Spirit Path of the Polar Night], it will continue to do so. You’ve got 13 seconds from when it raises its scythe to when it swings down. If you land a magically empowered attack within that time, you’re safe.”

“What happens if you don’t make it in time?”
“Instant death. That scythe doesn’t cut the body; it reaps the soul.”

The sound of clinking ceramics from a nearby table felt unnervingly cold.

13 seconds.
It’s short. Too short.

Could I even notice it if it suddenly appeared behind me in the chaos of a battle? If I were to shoot minimal magic backward—enough to kill a goblin—I’d need about two seconds without any chanting, even if aimed wildly. That means I’d have to notice it within 11 seconds…

I’m not confident.
I’m not confident I can keep track of Kirishima-san’s back while fighting.

“If you think you can’t respond in time, hit it even if it means involving me.”
“…Understood.”

I nodded, and Kirishima-san reached out. Before I knew what was happening, my head was ruffled.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it, and Isshiki hasn’t been cursed yet.”

For the time being, I let him stroke my hair without any resistance, and when Kirishima was satisfied, I started combing my hair with my fingers. It wasn’t as messy as I thought it would be. Or rather, my hair wasn’t long enough to be messy.

“There’s a condition to getting cursed, isn’t there?”
“Yes. When someone dies in the [Spirit Path of the Polar Night], the curse transfers to someone nearby.”

Kirishima-san was already cursed.
Which means, basically…

“…Someone who died nearby…”

What I’d been faintly sensing now took clear shape.
Kirishima-san widened her eyes momentarily before shaking her head gently.

“You really do have sharp instincts, don’t you, Isshiki? …You’re right; I did—we did—lose someone precious. Saying ‘precious’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“…….”

“But the curse I bear isn’t from that time.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

While relief washed over me that Kirishima-san wasn’t bearing that burden.
One possibility crossed my mind.

I thought of the kind person who always sent adventurers off with a smile and cared for me.

Under the table, my fists clenched.

“This curse is borne by Haruka. Shiraishi Haruka.”

I was left speechless.
Kirishima-san stood up with her cup in hand.

“We’re heading back tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”

Even after watching Kirishima-san leave, I couldn’t bring myself to stand.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. I had no right to sigh.

◇

Closing her eyes, Haruka recalled that day.

“We’re almost at the gate! Just keep moving forward!”

That was the first time Haruto had shouted like that. It was a sign of how critical the situation was.

The monsters in the [Spirit Path of the Polar Night] weren’t particularly strong. It was a spot perfect for safe earnings, and they’d even planned to move to the next area soon.

But they weren’t the only party in the dungeon.

That day, Haruka’s group had stumbled upon another.
Surrounded by monsters, two members of the other party were already dead, and the last one was on the brink. There was little chance of survival.

They were contemporaries from their training days, acquaintances to Haruka’s party. So they couldn’t just abandon them. No, Haruto wouldn’t have left anyone, no matter who they were. He was that kind of person.

The monsters, having already killed two adventurers, were aggressive and unexpectedly tough, inflicting severe wounds on Haruka’s party. Kensuke, the other member, suffered particularly deep injuries.

Even so, Kensuke, being the strongest in the party, carried the gravely injured adventurer.

They walked. Walked. Relentlessly, they pushed toward safety.

Haruto guarded their rear, watching everyone’s back. The adventurer being carried was undeniably cursed. And Haruto was the best at handling that quickly.

Fear, anxiety, sorrow, frustration.
The desire to be free from those emotions as soon as possible fueled their steps.

They arrived at the gate, finally breathing a sigh of relief. It had been a long day. Somehow, they made it through. They needed treatment quickly, but…

When they turned, Haruto wasn’t there.

“Huh…?”

No one knew whose voice that was.
The next thing Haruka saw was the figure of her comrade, collapsed about 10 meters behind them. Limbs sprawled as if they’d fainted, lying face down.

“Haruto…?”

Unable to move, Yuko’s voice was a frail whisper.

“A-ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhh!”

It was Kensuke who screamed. He put down the adventurer he was carrying, covering his face with his hands. Through his fingers, he repeatedly glanced down at the adventurer, screaming and clawing at his face.

“Ahh… Ahh… Why, how…? This can’t be…”

He needn’t have said it. It was known.
The adventurer he had saved died on Kensuke’s back. They had been on the brink of death and couldn’t endure the journey. No one had noticed.

That death cursed Haruto.

Focused on his comrades’ back, Haruto didn’t notice what was behind him. An error he would never make under normal circumstances. Yet, the stress of their extreme situation led to the worst-case scenario.

Haruto died.
The party they tried to save was annihilated.
That day, Haruka’s group lost everything.

—I will kill the Undead King and end the curse.

After the party disbanded, only Kirishima Yuko chose to continue as an adventurer.
Haruka chose to work behind the scenes, while Kensuke became completely withdrawn.

From that day forward, Yuko became as cold and sharp as a blade.

She descended into the dungeon alone to earn money, continuously seeking information with that money.
Driven by hatred, she relentlessly pressed forward, and Haruka, seeing her like that… couldn’t bring herself to speak to her.

Dungeon gates are everywhere.

Even if you enter through different gates, you’re thrown into the same dungeon. Only the structure is the same, with different monsters, different people, and separated adventurers.

It’s like an offline game. You can play the same game, but you can’t play together. You can’t be together, but you can still share strategy and information.

There are only seven officially recognized reports of defeating the Undead King worldwide.

To hear their stories, Yuko needed to go overseas.

“Job-hunting for a dumb person like me means I’m definitely a loser, right?”

Musing like that, the girl studied languages, got her passport, and traveled from country to country. When shown such determination, how could one stop her?

All Haruka could do was maintain a cheerful façade. Unable to face dungeons, unable to walk with Yuko.

—This is my punishment.

For not choosing to walk with Yuko back then.
For letting Haruto die at that time.
For averting my eyes from life and choosing the dungeon then.

The least she could do was reach out to new adventurers, ensure they could venture safely. So they wouldn’t be crushed by dreams too big.

This wasn’t a place to dream.
She’d tried to convey that, telling herself too.

And yet—

—Molecular Interference, Dissociation, Conductor Generation—[Violet Lightning Flash]

The sight of that boy with a defiant smile, moving his left hand with flair.
The magical lightning that ignited in his hands.

She found herself dreaming.

Haruka placed her mug of warm milk down and checked the time. It was early for bed but she thought she might retire soon.

Earlier that morning, Yuko had taken Isshiki Itsuki into the dungeon. She had chosen to bring him to defeat the Undead King.

Had it been anyone else, she wouldn’t feel this calm.

“It’ll be fine. After all, it’s Isshiki-kun.”

Draining her cup, Haruka stood from her chair.

◇

True to her word, we returned straight from the dungeon the next day.

We split the money earned from selling our spoils, and with 40,000 yen each, Kirishima-san headed home. I lingered near the gate, lost in thought, before deciding to return to the dungeon.

“Hmm…”

I closed my eyes and honed my magical senses.

Magic was necessary.

A spell to nullify the curse.
A spell to sever the curse’s source.

Magic to kill the Undead King.