EP.80 The Other Half of the Heart
Tirkanjaka intended to cook herself, but for a girl who hadn't set foot in a kitchen for twelve centuries, the kitchen was a paradise of unfamiliar objects. She was more accustomed to a mace than a spatula, a halberd than a ladle, a saw-bladed sword than tongs. And that was when they were pointed at her.
With no other choice, the golem offered to demonstrate.
The golem was surprisingly skilled at cooking.
The only problem was that its small size made it incapable of doing anything alone, but Tirkanjaka solved that easily.
When Tirkanjaka casually waved her hand, a pitch-black current of air formed around the golem. It gradually took shape from the bottom up, gently lifting the golem's body and enveloping it.
The golem, unable to adapt to its suddenly elevated perspective, looked around in bewilderment. The shadow that had risen above the golem's head also mimicked the looking-around motion. When the golem raised its arm, the shadow raised its arm; when it took a step, the shadow took the same step. It was like a shadow puppet.
"This is...! No, this is impossible even with the Military Nation's technology!"
"A shadow's form can grow infinitely larger than its original, or shrink as small as a speck of dust. This is a shadow exactly three times your size. It will do exactly as you act."
The golem, having familiarized itself with the shadow, reached out its hand. The shadow, following the movement, took a pot from the cabinet and turned the faucet. Despite being a shadow, it had substance.
The golem was greatly flustered by the shadow reproducing movements three times its size.
"Surprised? Be as surprised as you like. Domination and control are my true power. It's on a completely different level from your tin puppet play or mud doll games."
"...Tin... Keuk, I want to deny it, but I can't..."
The golem, having gained a new body, busily worked its hands and feet. It soaked beans in water, drained them thoroughly in a sieve, placed the drained water in a pot to boil while simultaneously simmering the beans on a pan. Tirkanjaka watched the golem's actions carefully and committed them to memory.
After putting in all manner of effort, the golem presented the completed dish and spoke.
"It is finished. Canned beans stewed in soy and broth soup."
"So this is how cooking is done. Thank you."
"Not at all. I intend to provide you with sufficient convenience."
The golem's actions were underlain by its own calculations.
The forced laborer had openly rebelled, and the other trainee was not a reliable ally. Moreover, the strongest and most influential existence in Tantalus right now was Tirkanjaka, so it was only natural for the golem, who needed internal information, to try to establish a connection.
"Alright. A tin can that's finished its work must be put away."
"Tin...?"
However, there was one problem.
Tirkanjaka had never intended to cooperate with the Military Nation from the start.
"Now go back to sleep."
"Hm? Sle...?!"
Pop. The shadow detached the speaker. The golem tried to reach out toward the speaker moving away before its eyes, but suddenly shadows surged in from all directions and bound its arms and legs.
From the very beginning—precisely, from the moment the golem showed hostility toward her—this future had been foreseen.
Tirkanjaka looked down at the golem buried in darkness and spoke gently.
"Since you taught me with such sincerity, I won't break you. Instead, I must ensure you can't spout useless words. From the looks of it, you can't speak without this."
"......!"
"Seems like that's the correct answer. I'll come for you again when I need you."
Snap.
With a flick of her finger, the golem's body was wrapped in darkness and rolled away like a ball. Tirkanjaka placed the detached speaker on the highest shelf of the cabinet.
While the golem struggled alone in the darkness, Tirkanjaka headed toward him with plates in both hands.
"Here. I've brought food."
He was still sitting blankly. However, as if the smell of food stimulated him, his unfocused eyes faintly followed the plate. Saliva glistened at the corner of his mouth.
Appetite is the will to live. Having confirmed that in him, Tirkanjaka rejoiced greatly.
"Thankfully, you still have your appetite. It's food."
"...Food."
"Yes. Food. Eat well."
Tirkanjaka set the plate down in front of him and sat across from him, watching. He quietly observed the food with hazy eyes, then reached out his hand.
Straight toward the food.
"Wait!"
His movement stopped completely. In that state, he looked at her as if gauging her reaction. Tirkanjaka carefully placed a spoon in his hand.
What the body remembers is not forgotten. After briefly finding the spoon unfamiliar, he scooped up the soup before him as if he had always known how. At first, overflowing soup dripped a few drops onto the table, but the amount that spilled decreased as he repeated the motion.
Tirkanjaka smiled with satisfaction.
"Yes. You haven't forgotten everything. That's a very good thing. Perhaps your memories will return soon."
Even if he remained like this for the rest of his life, Tirkanjaka would care for him forever.
However, separately from that, Tirkanjaka missed his former self.
He had been arrogant. Though he pretended otherwise, he was subtly insolent. He treated the deep anguish of others as highly amusing.
But within that lay an unexpected pleasantness and an inconspicuous consideration.
That such a person had become a fool who couldn't even speak properly—this fact constricted Tirkanjaka's heart.
"The reason you ended up like this must be because I breathed your soul into my heart."
Even now, if she placed a hand on her chest, she could feel the heartbeat he had given her. A single card drawn with a bright crimson heart, now indistinguishable from her own heart, was embedded within her chest.
She didn't know what it was or how it was made. But one fact she could know.
Without profound emotion, such a thing could never have been created.
"...Come to think of it, the King of Dogs didn't bark at me earlier either. I truly received so much. Even though I've given you nothing in particular."
Thinking of what she'd received, she couldn't possibly count it all. Starting from interesting stories, to the heart massage, and even that heart that beat so fiercely. The series of gifts felt so natural that even she, the recipient, hadn't been aware of having received them until she retraced her steps.
Compared to that, how little she had given.
She had to repay with all her body and soul.
Clack. She heard the sound of a spoon being set down. The bowl was completely empty before she knew it.
Tirkanjaka, who had lost track of time watching him, rose again and spoke to him.
"Did you eat it all?"
Nod.
Answers came promptly to her questions. He could speak simple words. How to eat, how to walk, how to move—he roughly remembered those.
Now she thought she understood a little. The only thing he'd forgotten was himself.
If so, she just needed to teach him.
"Hold out your hand."
He reached out his hand. Tirkanjaka wrapped that hand firmly in both of hers and pulled it toward her chest.
"You may not remember, but you are my savior."
His hand followed without any resistance. Cradling it preciously against her chest, she murmured with his hand pressed against her.
"When my heart had stopped, with this hand... you touched my heart and made it beat again. You awakened my stopped time."
A slightly large hand. The hand that had hesitated awkwardly whenever it passed between her ribs, yet eventually reached her heart and bestowed so much upon her.
Fingering that hand, Tirkanjaka, having returned to being a girl, lifted her head.
"So don't worry, and take your time recovering your memories. I won't leave until you tell me to go."
It wasn't a pledge. If anything, it was closer to a calm confession of fact.
Because she couldn't even imagine that this resolve would change simply because Tirkanjaka's heart beat.
Saying thus, Tirkanjaka looked at the hand against her chest and recalled his former appearance.
"Even though I've gotten my heart back, I find myself missing the time when electricity flowed through my heart. Back then, I waited every moment for fingers to touch my heart..."
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
It was then that Tirkanjaka, who had been murmuring thus, sensed something strange.
Her heart was clearly beating even without blood manipulation. Whether she placed his hand against it or not, the heart should beat the same.
It should clearly be so.
Yet for some unknown reason, whenever she brought his hand close to her chest, her heart beat more fiercely.
There wasn't even electricity flowing through that hand.
Because she possessed blood manipulation, she could feel it even more certainly. Her heart was racing madly. As if it had found its lost half.
From before, when her heart had stopped. The hand that had shot something intense toward her every time it approached. It seemed her heart remembered and welcomed it. The trembling increased as time passed. At this rate, her precious heart might burst—Tirkanjaka grew frightened.
But one thing was certain: her body and soul wished to draw even closer like this.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Her face flushed red even though nothing had happened. Feeling that she would become strange if she stayed like this, Tirkanjaka hastily pushed his hand away.
A deep regret faded as it pulled away. Freed from the bizarre situation, Tirkanjaka frantically stroked her face once, then the area above her heart once.
"Is it... broken...?"
For Tirkanjaka now, that was the only conclusion she could reach.