Chương 39: A Burden Not His to Shoulder

Death was the one curveball life always threw, and Ren had experienced it too many times to think complaining was useful. It didn't care whether you were ready or not; it would happen, and you had to accept it. After all, it was the only thing you couldn't do anything about, even in this so-called magical world. The old man's death was the same. Ren knew why he had chosen to end his life— though daring to say he understood it would have been presumptuous. Still, he could accept it.

Living could be torture greater than dying, and the thought of ending it all at once… yes, that much he understood. But if it involved someone else… The supposedly calming incense stung his nose as he drew a deep breath, eyes narrowing at Demoness.

"The Hall should've kept records of who visited," she said at last, lowering her head, crimson gaze dimming. For a moment, he remained silent. Forcing himself to exhale, Ren shook his head. It's not her fault. She did nothing wrong.

"Go and check it, please," he said at last, carefully controlling his tone. Still, his gaze remained heavy.

"And find out why there isn't anyone watching the door. Such negligence can't be ignored." Demoness nodded, then turned around. But before she left the chamber, her steps paused, and she tilted her head a little.

"What are you gonna do?" Ren didn't turn, gaze locked on the old man's faint smile. What had he thought before he did the deed, to have such peace? Perhaps having a reunion with his daughter, if there was a kind afterlife. Perhaps release from the fierce claws of resentment. Or simply the belief— even yearning— to find refuge in a divine place of some kind of faith. He wasn't sure what mortals believed around here. As for burial ceremonies, he knew even less. [Not even the Yellow Springs can clear a Liar's Seal!] I have to 'clean' this blemish. His fists trembled, but he forced them still and waved a hand, severing the rope with a soft snap. Catching the old man, Ren felt bones stinging against his chest. Ren couldn't tear his gaze away from the man's face as he gently laid the body on the bed. That wrinkled, sun-marked skin seemed to carry a burden his frail body couldn't carry anymore.

"I don't even know his name… but I do know he deserves a proper burial," Ren said after gulping down the chaos building in his stomach. He held the man's cold, callous fingers as he continued, "And he shouldn't take his demons back with him. I'll make sure of that."

"Do you want me to call a priest? For purification, I mean…"

"…" Demoness's gaze lingered on him with a heaviness unusual for her. Yet she pressed her lips together and left, her steps echoing in the empty manor. Ren inhaled, the smoke clawing at his throat once again. He was grateful she was gone because he knew he couldn't keep the storm eating him from the inside away much longer. So he did what he always did, but this time he didn't just shelve the negative thoughts. No, they needed to be devoured for him to act calm. The well stirred.

A guttural sound echoed through his mind, too deep to be his own. The well inhaled. The storm that churned inside him— confusion, grief, anger, or whatever these were called— bled out of his chest into a bottomless pit. His mind quieted, even if it was only for a second, before more intense emotions erupted. Emotions that he had suppressed all this time. They didn't come in a controlled way like the last time. No. They stormed out of their dens, roaring and bellowing, raw and festered after all that time.

However, the well wasn't a picky eater. On the contrary, it let out another guttural sound as though it was enjoying itself. Ren heaved out another huge sigh after a while, lips twisting, a bad taste left in his mouth. His mind had calmed down at last, though it was a hollow, unnatural calm, the kind that came only when you worked nonstop until your brain lost the ability to think and analyze. This will do. At least, it's familiar, Ren thought, plopping himself onto the chair.

His gaze unwillingly shifted to the body, lingering on that faint, impossible smile. The thoughts revolving in his mind were stupid, maybe even dangerous. Hell, he had spent weeks trying to find a way and escape responsibility. He had thought he could repeat what he did in his last life A life without a purpose. Although lonely, he liked being lonely. Fewer problems. Less chaos. A focused mind on the current, unburdened by the others' fuss. He had to admit he yearned for connection— only sometimes, of course.

Some nights were too cold. Too dark. And harsh, to endure alone. Still, it was nothing but an idle thought for him, something he never acted on, not after her. Even if he had lost himself in that loneliness, he had learned how to thrive in it. After all, not all flaws needed to be removed. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. So what had changed here for him to… live like this here? Past regrets? I didn't think I had those kinds of thoughts… Ren put a hand on his heart.

It was beating steadily. Strong. Not faint like he was used to. Or did I repress them so much that even I was unaware? Suddenly, he felt a burning. Faint, yet insistent. The words. They were flaring to life again, as if reminding him of the promise he made.

"Fine, fine, I get it," Ren couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle, no matter how much it didn't sound like one. He stared at the faint smile one last time, muttering without realizing, "… I'll shoulder it for you too, old man. Hope you'll find that peace." He ran a hand through his smooth hair, unintentionally messing it a little. A few short locks tumbled over his forehead. Then he rose, dragging the chair to the bedside. He closed the old man's eyes with gentle fingers, palm resting on the brow.

The incense smoke was thicker here, almost alive. It clung to his clothes, burrowed into his pores, and sank straight into his lungs like oil. He coughed once, twice, but the stench tainted by resentment didn't fade— it grew heavier. The shadows around the bed writhed, swollen and distorted, reaching toward him. Hope this goes as planned. If I fuck up, please join the shit fest and save me, system. Ren gently pressed his palm. The well stirred again. The instant the darkness touched him, his body revolted.

His chest locked up, ribs seizing as though a fist had clawed its way to his heart. Something jagged stabbed at him, followed by fire lashing through his veins. His spine almost failed to carry him as a strangled gasp clawed up his throat, raw and ugly. Wrong. All wrong. His very flesh recoiled. Every nerve screamed to push it out, to vomit, to tear his own skin open if it meant to purge himself of this curse.

Even the lazy moonlight erupted for a moment, coating his body in a silver light and wandering in his veins in search of the sickness, though futile in its effort. The resentment never targeted the body— it corrupted the soul. Ren's vision warped. Shadows throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat, pressing closer, closer, until he felt like they were crawling under his skin. His nails dug deep into his palms, but he barely sensed it. Voices— cracked, furious, broken— screeched inside his head.

A young girl's laughter, twisted and shrill, mixed with screams, rattled his very being. A gruff, hoarse voice roaring, wailing, and tearing his throat apart spiked through his brain. After them came arrogant, dismissive voices overlapping onto each other, echoing endlessly. His thoughts splintered; every memory jostled aside, drowned beneath a tide of venom. He staggered in place, his right hand grabbing the headboard, his instinctive grasp crushing it. Just as his eyes darkened, the well moved for the first time.

It devoured and devoured, relishing the filth with ravenous joy, feasting on the twisted marrow of a life cut short, and Ren was dragged with it, his soul scraped raw. He wanted to scream, but his throat locked, producing only a ragged, choking sound as every breath scorched him from within like glass shards. It hurts. Fucking hell, it hurts! The resentment fought back too, curling around his mind like serpents, biting into every weakness it found.' You're the same,' the voices hissed, turning into familiar ones.

Ones he could never forget.' You'll fail them too. You'll lose them too. Just like you lost us. You'll stand alone— again.'

"No…" a whisper forced its way out of his lips.

'That's your fate, and no one will care. Nothing's changed, nor is it going to. You're still the same creep you were meant to be. Or… did you forget how you killed them?' Ren's body trembled violently. He wanted to curse himself for being stupid. He could've called priests, monks, exorcists— anyone more qualified. Yet even the thought of it felt wrong. Why? He didn't know. He just knew he was a fucking idiot.

'Yes. That's right, you are an idiot, Ren. Hehe, hehehehe!' His heartbeat synced with a laugh that didn't belong to him.

'Can you believe it? You became what you always refused! An idiot who tries to carry burdens he doesn't own. A man who can't even help himself yet tries to help others, what did you even expect? Or don't tell me, you thought you could be a hero? Haven't you learned that all you can be a monster?'

"Just… s-shut… the fuck… up." Even whispering felt like tearing his vocal cords apart. His teeth ground together so hard he thought they might crack. He wanted to push it away, to seal the well, to stop. But his hand never withdrew. It lasted seconds. Or an eternity. He couldn't tell. The well notified him with a soft roar that no shadow nor darkness left for it to devour. Ren collapsed into the chair, chest heaving, every muscle trembling as though he'd just clawed his way out of a battlefield.

His mouth tasted of iron and ash, his mind was quiet— but not empty. Something heavy, alien, had crawled its way into it, still trying to lodge itself there to wait and fester.

'You'll always be the same man, Ren. No matter how much you try to change, you'll always destroy the ones depending on you. You'll—'"You've overstayed your welcome, fucker. Now get the hell out of there," Ren muttered, pressing a shaky hand against his forehead, "System, get to work." [Skill: Primordial Lifeform activating…] [Primordial Lifeform]: As the host of the Nascent-Moonfly Tree, you gained immunity to all mind control techniques or imprints. No curse can affect your mind.

Ren felt the change immediately, and he turned his gaze inward. Little Sapling continued to flutter in the nonexistent breeze, still the same, carefree brat it was. However, he felt a sharp, stabbing headache as he saw roots extending from his core and reaching toward his brain. He felt as though he heard a shrill, alien screech when the roots stiffened for a beat and shook as if latched onto something he couldn't see. But the roots moved so fast and backed away with nothing that the voice could be his imagination.

He wouldn't find it strange if it were so, after all that torment. Thankfully, the heaviness in his mind disappeared in moments, making way for sheer relief. He heaved out a deep sigh, and finally inhaled the spicy, fragrant smell of the incense still burning.

"I did it, old man…" he murmured, his shoulders relaxing. The same faint smile carved its shape onto his lips.

"I really did it…" At last, he took out the scroll and ripped it into two. The Liar's Brand erased without a trace.