32. You Are the Hero of the Story—Truly, the Viande

Author: Kiki
Raw: https://novel18.syosetu.com/n2498fn/34/
Translator: Lilia v4
Editor: Yuriko AYA

“Uwaaaaaaagh!”

Saiji bolted upright and screamed the instant he awoke.

“Hah… hah… hah…”

His shoulders heaved with every ragged breath. Forgetting even to blink, he stared wildly around him.
This was—his room, and his body lay on the bed.
He had been certain he was dead.
He had felt the pain, and he had unmistakably felt his body growing cold.
Yet his arms and legs were attached.
So was his head, of course.

“Was it… a dream?”

It had been so real he wanted to call that idea ridiculous.
But since he was lying here in his own room, there seemed to be no other explanation.
If so, which parts had been real, and when had he fallen into the dream?
Saiji clutched his head.
He had no idea. He could not even begin to guess where reality ended and the dream began.
He wanted it all to have been an illusion.
But the moment Saiji formed that wish, he heard that sound from the wall behind him.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch—

His entire body went rigid, gripped by tension as fierce as a hand closing around his heart.
He forgot not only to blink but even to breathe. He hunched forward with a hand pressed to his chest.
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
What in the world was this?
Who was doing it, and for what? Why did he have to be caught up in it?
Nothing came to mind.
Nothing at all. Saiji had never once thought of himself as a sinner.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch—

The unnatural sound continued as though rebuking him.
It would go on until Saiji’s repentance was accepted.
Or until he went mad.

“Screw this… You piece of shit!”

Saiji flung the sheet aside, climbed out of bed, and strode from the room.
He was heading, of course, for the room that held the ihai.
If the cause of the sound was in there, he intended to beat it senseless and send it flying.
Even if his fists proved useless, Saiji could wield a little magic.
He would simply blast it away.
For some reason, the door was unlocked. Saiji opened it and stepped into a vast room that was, otherwise, nothing at all.

“…!”

He had assumed no one would be there.
Instead they stood stock-still, as if waiting for him.
Four men.
Their heads were bowed, and the room was dark, so he could not see their faces clearly. Judging by their appearance, however, they were probably soldiers who worked at the castle.

“Wel… come.”

The soldier on the far right spoke in a rasp and pointed in a particular direction.

“To the… ihai.”

The soldier beside him continued.

“Together… everyone… the whole time.”

After the third man spoke, the fourth—the soldier at the far left—raised his face. Baring bloodstained teeth in a grin, he looked at Saiji and said,

“Congratulations… Saiji Kazeoka. Congrat… ulations.”

And he was not alone.
The other three were also staring at Saiji with the same ghastly smiles.
Saiji was speechless.
The situation was bizarre, and he recognized their faces.
The fourth man on the far left in particular was surely the soldier who had smashed his head against the wall and died after Saiji fled the dining hall yesterday.
Why was he alive in this room, waiting for Saiji?
For that matter—was he truly alive?
As if answering Saiji’s question, the soldiers’ bodies began to sag and dissolve.
First their skin vanished, then their flesh melted away, and their eyes, brains, and viscera struck the floor with wet splats.
Once nothing but bone remained, they scraped their fingertips against the wall one final time as though mocking him, then collapsed.
In short, they were giving him the answer.
The scratching that had tormented him—they were telling him they had been the ones responsible.

“…Have I wandered into some sick haunted house?”

If this was all a joke, he wished someone would hurry up and say so.
Who had arranged it? Taka was the likeliest suspect, though Sakuna was entirely capable of it too.
Or did the fact that no one had revealed themselves mean there were still more tricks to come?
Even so, the props were extraordinarily realistic.
The stench of flesh and viscera—the stench of human corpses—filled the room.
He thought he might vomit.
But his stomach was empty. Come to think of it, he had not eaten dinner yesterday.
Perhaps that was why there was so little strength in his steps.
He staggered toward the center of the room, looking ready to collapse at any moment, and approached the wooden box the four men had indicated—the ihai.
When he brought his face close to its surface, he noticed that characters had been carved into it.
They were kanji, a sight he had not seen in a long time.

“Kazeoka, Saiji… it says. Ha… haha… Ahahahaha! What, are you trying to tell me I’m already dead? Like hell I am! I’m standing right here, alive!”

Saiji shouted and kicked the box.
The lid sprang open from the force of the blow, and viscous chunks of flesh and what looked like bones spilled out.
But he had already lost interest.

“It’s nothing but a bluff. When you take the performance this far, it becomes a farce.”

Laughing it off, Saiji turned to leave the room.
There, where nothing had stood moments earlier, was a full-length mirror.
He flinched and drew in on himself for an instant, but quickly raised the corners of his mouth in a smile.
It was nothing more than bravado.
He hoped that smiling might ease his fear, if only a little.

“What are you hoping to accomplish with a mirror? You think something like this is enough to scare me—”

The object before him was an entirely ordinary mirror.
In other words, it had not been placed there to startle Saiji.
It had only wanted him to see.
Why he had been led into this room.
Why his name had been carved into the ihai.
The reason.

“…Don’t. Not that.”

Then Saiji noticed it.
A scar had been etched around his neck, a scar that had not existed yesterday.
It was a jagged mark like a suture, and his fingertips felt its ridges and hollows.
It had not been drawn there as a prank. It was undeniably real.
Then why did he have such a scar around his neck?
His memories of yesterday naturally came flooding back.
His friends had held him down while a cook severed his arms and legs, then finally his head—that hideously vivid dream.

“It wasn’t… a dream? You mean all of that really happened?”

If his head truly had been cut off, then it must subsequently have been joined to a body—and in that case, the contents of the ihai might truly be Saiji’s body.
Then whose body was this?
The moment the thought occurred to him, every hair on his body stood on end.
His own body seemed far more horrifying than the five corpses scattered about the room.
When he looked at his hands, they seemed larger than the hands he was used to seeing.
Had his legs always been this thick?
Looking closer, was even his skin a different color?
The longer he stared, the more convinced he became that his body did not belong to him.

“Ah… Aaaaah… Aaaaaaaaaagh!”

Saiji reached both hands toward the mirror and wrenched it down with all his strength.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the dark room.
Or perhaps it was his mind that had shattered.
Broken, Saiji crushed the scattered shards beneath his feet and left the room.
Swaying from side to side like a wandering ghost, he returned to the room next door, approached the bed, and threw himself onto his back.
His body sank into the soft mattress with a muffled thump.

“Wake up… Please, let me wake up… Please… I can’t take any more of this…”

Tears of a kind he had never shed from fear before began to spill.
Gravity drew the drops past his temples and into the bedding.
But she had yet to relent.

Knock, knock.

A knock came at the door, pressing in on him at once.

“Hey, Saiji, are you awake? Looks like you haven’t eaten since yesterday, so I brought you something good. Want to eat together while we talk?”

It was Taka.
Taka, who had laughed last night as he watched Saiji’s body being cut apart.

“Oya’ll be here in a bit too. It seems like… you’ve been going through a lot, but I bet if we just shoot the breeze you’ll feel a little better, yeah?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up.
That thing was no longer a sane human being.
To Saiji’s ears, Taka’s words had already become nothing more than noise.

“Sakuna and Toka were worried about you too. Well, Sakuna said, ‘Homesickness? That’s hilarious,’ like she always does, but even she really is thinking about you.”

Worried about him?
After stealing his body?
Not only that. Taka had merely laughed when he saw Sakuna and Toka wrapped up in each other.
He had merely laughed while a human being was butchered.
Worse, he had eaten it.
They were cannibals. Even if they had once been his friends, that was beyond anything he could accept.

“Monster…”
“Oh, I heard something that sounded like a voice. You are awake, aren’t you? Answer me, then.”
“Shut up… You’re too loud…”
“Honestly, things are boring when you’re not around. This is the first time I’ve said it in all the years we’ve known each other, but I rely on you more than you’d think.”

Saiji could no longer understand what Taka was saying. All he knew was that the noise would not stop.
The mere sound of his voice filled Saiji with irritation and disgust.
If he opened the door, Taka would surely wear the same deranged smile as yesterday and thrust some appalling “food” in his face.
Yet Saiji considered the situation.
If they could transport him from the castle exit back to the dining hall as they had yesterday, then even if he remained shut in his room, they would eventually force him out.
In that case, he could not afford to remain passive.
He had to strike first.
He had to kill before he was killed—
Saiji rose from the bed and checked the location of the fruit knife kept in the room.
Keeping himself ready to seize it at any moment, he slowly admitted Taka.

“Hey, Saiji. How’ve you been? ‘Hee-hyah-hah-hah! Hee-hee-hee!’”

Just as expected, Taka appeared with a deranged grin.
Saiji considered stabbing him at once, but that would be premature.
He resolved to act the moment Taka completely let down his guard.

“Yesterday ‘was fun, wasn’t it?’ I mean, ‘being turned into meat and cooked isn’t an experience you get every day,’ right?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I’m sure you all had a wonderful time.”
“‘And today we’re picking up where we left off yesterday.’ That’s why I brought you this.”

Taka held the plate out for Saiji to see. Several slices of pink meat lay upon it.

“What the hell is this?”
“Oya sashimi.”

So now it was sashimi.
Saiji could not help but grin.
Compared with the tricks so far, which had done nothing but frighten him, this one at least had a little wit.

“Oya was worried too. That’s why ‘he even sliced himself into sashimi like this’ and prepared it for you.”
“I never asked him to.”
“Come on, that’s a terrible thing to say! Oya would normally never offer on his own, but ‘he went so far as to cut up his own body’ to prepare this for you!”
“I said I don’t want it!”

Saiji knocked the plate out of Taka’s hands.
The pieces of Oya sashimi hit the floor with a dull thud.
At the sight, Taka flew into a rage and seized Saiji by the collar.

“That’s going too far, Saiji! Have you ever thought about how Oya feels, ‘being turned into sashimi’?”
“Of course I haven’t!”
“Wha— ‘Hee… hee-hee… Hyah-hah-hah! That’s true! I’ve never thought about how someone feels after being turned into sashimi either! Hahahahaha!’”

Taka released Saiji and doubled over with laughter.
Certainly, no one had ever considered the feelings of a person turned into sashimi, and the phrase alone might have sounded absurd enough to be funny.
But Saiji could not laugh.
Something that had once been his friend was trying to carve its own flesh and feed it to him.
How could he possibly laugh?

“Hah… heh, heh-heh… Damn, sorry. That got me. How Oya feels after being turned into sashimi… Hahahaha! Ahahahahaha!”

Even so, Taka kept laughing, clutching his stomach and sinking to his knees.
Saiji knew that his chance had come.
He swiftly snatched the fruit knife from the shelf, drew it from its sheath, and lunged with the bare blade.

“Saiji, wha— ‘Ahahahaha! Are you going to turn me into sashimi next? No, wait! Can’t you at least wait until Oya gets here? If I’m going to be eaten, I want Oya to have some too, and it’ll obviously taste better fresh!’”
“Shut up, shut up! You aren’t human. You’re not human! You’re only going to tear my body apart and kill me again, so I’ll kill you first! I’ll kill you! Die!”

Taka naturally resisted.
He had always been more athletic than Saiji. Even with Saiji nearly on top of him, the arm whose wrist Taka held would not budge.
Saiji therefore drove his knee into Taka’s face several times.
The instant Taka faltered, Saiji forced him all the way to the floor.
He straddled Taka and tried mercilessly to plunge the knife into him, but Taka still managed to stop Saiji’s arms with both hands.
Then he wrested away the knife and threw it aside.
Taka did not miss the opening created by Saiji’s shock.
He slipped free, sprang to his feet, and faced Saiji once more.

“Hah… hah… hah…”

Sweat beaded on Taka’s forehead as he glared at Saiji.
But even that expression looked like laughter to Saiji.
He was still laughing, even though Saiji had been about to kill him.
He was still taunting him: “You’re going to turn me into sashimi, aren’t you?”
Saiji had been right.
Now that he had witnessed it with his own eyes, he knew for certain: that thing was no longer Taka.
Taka seemed to be trying to tell Saiji something, but Saiji refused to listen. Dropping low, he charged.

“Gah…!”

His shoulder drove into Taka’s unguarded stomach, slamming Taka’s back hard against the wall.

“Raaaaaagh!”

Saiji roared.
He seized Taka by the hair, dragged him down, and smashed his head against the wooden floor.

“Agh! Ugh… S-stop… Saiji!”
“It’s too late for that! You killed me! You ate me! If that’s how you want it, then I’ll—I’ll—I’ll—!”
“Ghk… Gah… Ghh…”

The skin of Taka’s scalp split. Blood stained the floor and began to mat his hair.
Saiji smiled when he saw it.
Just a little more, and he would have disposed of the first one.
The road ahead was long. There could be no future until he had eliminated every human being they had driven mad.
But to accomplish that, he first had to make absolutely certain that he killed this first victim.
This was his first step—a step toward salvation, and toward a grand hope.

“Wh… why… ghk… Sai… ji… I…”
“You cannibalistic monsters! I’m the only sane one, and I’ll kill every last one of you! I won’t let you do this anymore!”
“You… and… ngh… I wanted… to have… fun… with… every… one…”
“Heh… heheheh! Almost there. Just a little more! Die! Die!”
“Saku… na… Toka… O… ya…”
“This is the end!”
“Mom… Dad…”
“Uwaaaaaaagh!”

Crunch.

There came a sound of bone breaking and flesh being crushed, and the light vanished from Taka’s eyes.
He had stopped resisting soon after Saiji began pounding his head against the floor. Now even his voice was gone.

“Ha… hahaha… Hahahahaha! Ah-hah-hah-hyah-hah-hah! I did it! I did it! That’s the first one! Now I can—!”

Saiji laughed in triumph.

“I heard a strange noise… Well, you sound lively enough, Saiji. Taka’s here too— What!?”

Oya had arrived late.
He looked at Taka’s corpse in shock, but Saiji saw him “laughing.”
Saiji snatched the fruit knife from atop the shelf, drew the blade, and charged at Oya.

“Saiji, this… What… are you…?”

Perhaps Oya had been completely unprepared, because he did not even attempt to evade Saiji’s knife.
The weapon’s blade was short, but Saiji twisted it ninety degrees, then bore down with his weight and dragged it lower while it was still embedded, turning the wound into a fatal one.

“Ghh… Ah… Aaah…?”

Oya groaned, clutching his stomach.
Saiji pulled out the knife, then plunged the bloodstained blade into Oya’s neck.
Blood sprayed from Oya’s throat as he lost his balance.
When Oya slumped against the wall, Saiji straddled him and stabbed him again and again from the neck up across the face.

“Hahahahaha! Ahahahahaha! Now there’ll be peace! Die! Die! This is your fault! I’m sane! I was sane all along! Then you started doing all those insane things! Hyah-hah-hah! Hee-hah-hah-hah!”

Oya had long since died, but the deranged Saiji did not stop.
He minced the face until it was almost impossible to tell who it had been, and he laughed with delight at the sight.
Which of them had gone mad was now obvious.

Having disposed of Oya and served justice, Saiji sat astride the corpse in a daze when a woman spoke to him.

“Well done, Saiji.”
“Miyako… Ms. Mikage?”
“It’s all right. I’m still sane. I’m sorry I reacted so strangely when we first met again. I had to deceive them.”
“Oh, that’s why. Haha. I knew you were amazing, Ms. Mikage. Hah-hyah-hah!”
“Yes, your teacher is amazing. So amazing that I can give you an even greater power.”
“A great… power?”

Her words were vague and offered no details, but they thrilled Saiji.
If it was a great power, then surely it would be strong enough to wipe out all the people those things had driven mad.
That was what he expected.
Before Saiji’s eyes, Miyako produced a small vial from her pocket.

“This is a poison. Even a tiny amount is enough to kill a human. If you pour it into the pot in that accursed dining hall…”
“I can kill every one of the madmen… I can save them all… I can save them…”
“Yes. You will save them, Saiji. You’re the only person we can depend on now.”

Her words reinforced Saiji’s conviction that he was right.
Without hesitation, he took the vial.

“All I have to do is pour this into the pot? But won’t they notice me?”
“You’ll be fine. If you’re in the right, you should be able to slip into the dining hall without being caught. And if you’re in the right, no one will discover the bodies for some time.”
“That’s… true. I’m in the right, so no one will find them. Hah… Of course they won’t!”

He no longer possessed anything resembling sound judgment.
In any case, after murdering two of the few people who had remained his allies, there was no longer any path back.
And so he went forward, toward hell.
Believing his errors to be righteous, the mistaken Saiji followed the inhuman being’s guidance toward the dining hall, intending to murder a great many people who were in the right.
Miyako waved as she watched him go.
Once he was out of sight, she manipulated the shadows to send the corpses elsewhere and erase the bloodstains.

“That will do it, right, Chii-chan?”

At Miyako’s words, Chigusa emerged from a nearby shadow and gently embraced her from behind.

“Thank you, Mya-nee. It must have been awful for you to have to speak with such a filthy man.”
“Yes… I really wanted to kill him on the spot, but you asked me to do this, Chii-chan.”
“Mya-nee…”

Overcome, Chigusa’s eyes filled with tears as she buried her face against Miyako’s back.
Though Chigusa’s body had grown and she had ceased to be human, she remained just as she had been in those days, stirring Miyako’s maternal instincts.
Neither of them spared Saiji another thought.
They had obtained their result.
All that remained was to wait, so there was no reason to concern themselves with him.

Thus, every soldier who ate in the dining hall that day died a bizarre death, their bodies dissolving from the inside amid hellish agony—and Saiji Kataoka was imprisoned as the suspected culprit.