Chapter 8 _ Memories of a Bamboo Dragonfly, or the Solitary Sage
At dawn, with the last traces of darkness still lingering,
I forced my heavy eyelids open.
The shrine lay two hours away by carriage.
On foot, it would take nearly a full day.
When I had told the innkeeper about it the night before,
she quietly prepared my meals as a packed lunch.
In front of my door lay a bundle wrapped in cloth—
a lunch box and a bamboo tube filled with water.
I bowed slightly toward the empty, dimly lit counter
and set out before anyone else awoke.
I had been given directions by the man who assigned the job,
but even so—it was far.
Each step on the unpaved road kicked up clouds of dust,
and the uneven ground punished the soles of my unfamiliar leather shoes.
Still, I had to go.
If I didn’t, I would simply die.
“…A bamboo dragonfly, huh.
So even this world has them…”
Thinking such idle thoughts,
I kept walking. Slowly. Steadily.
Hah… hah… hah…
My lack of exercise made itself painfully clear.
But no one would save me if I gave up.
That truth pushed me forward.
Five hours after setting out,
after crossing a stream and conquering two steep mountain paths,
my knees finally gave out.
I collapsed to the ground beneath the shade of a tree.
With trembling hands, I opened the lunch the innkeeper had prepared.
The moment I took a bite of the rice ball,
a warm energy spread through my body like ripples from my core.
Had she mixed in a recovery potion as a hidden touch?
My lead-heavy legs suddenly felt light,
and the water I poured down my dry throat tasted better than any wine.
“I—I can do this…
I think I can make it…”
Encouraged, I forced myself onward again.
One step.
Then another.
Three more hours passed.
Bathed in the golden light of early evening,
the destination finally came into view.
“…There it is.”
It was less a shrine than a natural fortress—
enormous boulders piled atop one another.
Between sheer rock walls stood a stone manor,
quiet yet solemn,
surrounded by a chilling aura of magic that cut through the silence.
As I stood before the gate,
gathering my courage to knock—
Gii…
The massive stone doors opened on their own,
as if an unseen resident had invited me inside.
When I reached the inner hall, a voice rang out.
“Enter.”
Inside, towering piles of books formed small mountains.
And atop one of them sat the girl I had met before.
Her long, beautiful silver hair only heightened her mystique.
“…Hoh.
You do not fear me?”
Her golden eyes gleamed like jewels in the twilight.
“No.
For some reason, I haven’t felt fear since the first time we met.
If anything… I feel warmth.”
“Everyone in the city fears you so much,” I added with a small laugh.
“…And what is your business here?” she asked flatly.
“Oh—right.”
I held out the old bamboo dragonfly.
For the first time, Frey’s eyes wavered.
The arrogance vanished from her expression, replaced—just for an instant—
by a sorrow far deeper than her youthful appearance suggested.
She leapt down from the books and landed silently before me,
then accepted the bamboo dragonfly with the utmost care,
as though it were a priceless treasure.
“…I see.”
She stared at it for a long while, lost in thought.
“You have done well.
Return safely.”
I couldn’t help but ask.
Why did the people fear Frey,
when she protected the city with such a powerful barrier?
“May I… ask you something?”
Before I could continue, she raised her palm.
“Humans fear power that is too great,” she said.
“I was alone from the moment I was born.
My parents feared the immense magic I possessed…
and abandoned me in these mountains.”
“I was taken in and raised by the divine wolf who ruled this land.”
She continued calmly.
“When I was about ten, an anomaly occurred.
The seal on the Great Demon King weakened, and he revived.”
“You sealed him, didn’t you?” I asked.
“The city sent dozens of seasoned adventurers.
All of them failed.”
Her voice remained even.
“I had no obligation—no affection—for them.
But seeing people crushed by despair…”
“…Before I knew it, I stood before the Demon King.”
“At that moment, the last adventuring party was on the brink of annihilation.”
“I used my specialty—time magic.
The ultimate spell: Time Stop, cast at close range.”
“From that moment on, the Demon King has been frozen in time.
And so have I.”
“…Then what about you now?” I asked.
“This form is merely a vessel created by magic.
I am not truly here.”
Tears spilled from my eyes as I listened.
“T-that’s…”
“Oh?
You weep for me?
…Thank you.”
Then, gazing at the bamboo dragonfly, she spoke again.
“That was fifty years ago.”
“I was playing in the center of Inanna,
using time reversal as I did with you.”
“There was a young man from another world—just like you.
I played a prank on him as well.”
“But instead of getting angry,
he smiled at me… as if he understood everything.”
“And then, he made this bamboo dragonfly for me.”
“He was one of the few friends I ever had.
…And my first love.”
Her voice trembled.
“I visited him every day.
But maintaining this form consumes tremendous magic.”
“I had to preserve enough power to sustain the barrier.”
“Before I could no longer maintain my appearance,
I told him everything.”
“He promised he would wait for me.
Forever.”
“And then… I vanished before his eyes.”
“It is only recently that my magic has recovered enough
to take this form again.”
A great mage who commanded time itself
had clung to a single bamboo dragonfly for fifty years.
The weight of that loneliness tightened my chest.
“Lady Frey…
I’ll look for him.”
“…I see.
Then I shall entrust that to you.”
She smiled, satisfied.
“I will teleport you back to the inn.”
“No, it’s fine.
That uses magic, right?
I’ll walk back on my own.”
“…Very well.
Take care.”
On the way back, my steps felt light.
More than the 1,000 Fanann reward,
something else burned in my chest—
the desire to be useful to someone.
A feeling I had never known
during my life as a shut-in.
