Love Letter From The Future

The temple was a storage box filled with desperate despair.

The building, constructed as a summation of civilization, was high and spacious. The temple, adorned with sacred symbols and holy paintings, exuded a pious and antique atmosphere.

Before such a grand house of God, how pitiful is a mere human being.

The insignificant creatures of the ground naturally kneel and pray to their god. It was an act that required long perseverance, like sand grains enduring light and heat in a furnace.

To pray to God was proof that one could do nothing by their own strength.

Thus, it was earnest and also desperate. The only place to cling to was a transcendent existence that did not even return an answer.

The same could be said for the infirmary located in the temple.

The temple at the Academy served both as a theological lecture building and as a residence for high priests. This was to prepare for any unfortunate incidents that might occur during training.

Even during training, the lectures were conducted with the idea of actual combat in mind. Any slight mistake could result in injuries.

Of course, most of these injuries required only a few days of treatment at most.

This was because training with a high risk of injury, like sparring, necessitated the presence of Academy professors. It was rare for an incident to occur that could not be handled in front of skilled individuals renowned across the continent.

However, it was not the case that there were no patients who could not be handled even in the temple.

Fourth-year students dispatched for practical training such as monster hunting, or those who had carelessly wandered into dangerous areas within the Academy grounds, could occasionally suffer serious injuries that might even lead to death.

Emma was no exception. She had not yet died, but despite the outpouring of divine power from high priests sent from the Holy Kingdom along with the Lady Virgin Saint, news of any improvement had not come.

That was understandable. I had heard that her intestines had been spilled.

During that time, many people had gathered and prayed in front of the intensive care room in the temple.

They were all related to Emma. The supervising professors, juniors and seniors with connections, close classmates, as well as Reto and I.

I covered my face with my palm, recalling what had happened yesterday afternoon. I felt regret. I still had the potion that Emma had given me in my pocket.

At that moment, the Lady Virgin Saint, who had been leading Emma’s treatment along with the high priests from the Holy Kingdom, left the intensive care room with a weary expression.

My body, which had been in a daze, jerked up. The Lady Virgin Saint, perhaps accustomed to such situations, clasped her hands in prayer and lowered her head.

“Immanuel.”

‘May God be with you,’ was the greeting conveyed instead of a simple hello in the Holy Kingdom.

Seeing my anxious expression, the Lady Virgin Saint half-closed her eyes, as if understanding my circumstances. Perhaps due to the strain of pouring out divine power, her already pale complexion seemed even more ashen.

Her silver hair flowed gently, and her light pink eyes were tinged with faint sorrow.

If there were a God, one might think Him a poor favoritist for granting such beauty. On a normal day, I might have found myself lost in admiration.

However, today Reto’s and my gazes were locked not on her face, but on her lips, as if pleading for her to say something.

Her lips, which usually wore a gentle smile, remained tightly shut today without any sign of opening.

Yet perhaps finding it difficult to completely ignore the gazes of the two lambs pleading for a miracle, the Lady Virgin Saint let out a small sigh. Her mouth carefully opened.

“To be honest, the situation is not good.”

That was a threatening truth rather than hollow consolation. My body fell back into the chair like a dry straw bundle.

I exhaled a long sigh. I had already expected this. I made an effort to gather my thoughts.

“She has been left for too long with her intestines spilled. If I had to guess, a few hours? The contamination has already spread to her internal organs. Fortunately, she had managed to drink a potion that induces a comatose state right at the last moment, which is why she is still alive.”

It was a potion that alchemists carried with them to prepare for emergencies.

Once a person falls into a comatose state, their heart rate slows drastically, and even with severe bleeding, they do not lose their life. Moreover, the potion aimed to maximize their survival rate through various supportive effects.

However, even that had its limits. Spilling one’s intestines was a serious injury among serious injuries. Divine power was not omnipotent, and with such an injury, one had to prepare for death.

Perhaps a miracle could occur if a highly valuable offering was made.

But Emma, being merely the daughter of an herb gatherer, had no means to procure such an offering, and I, who felt responsible for her injury, was in the same predicament.

Even the miracles granted by God were not equal in this world. My eyes drooped with a grim outlook.

“There is not completely no hope. However, for now… it would be wise to prepare your heart. I heard that Emma’s parents will arrive soon.”

The Lady Virgin Saint looked at Reto and me with gentle concern. She quietly assessed our expressions before shaking her head.

“It might be a painful task to inform her parents of Emma’s condition. If it becomes too difficult to bear, it would be better for you to return to the dormitory.”

“…No, I will wait.”

A dry voice emerged from my throat. The Lady Virgin Saint gazed earnestly at me. Her light pink eyes seemed to ask if I was truly alright.

I weakly nodded my head.

“I was the last one to see her. As a friend, I should at least share this moment, which might be the last.”

And if I had stopped Emma a little longer, if I had trusted the contents written in the letter just a bit more.

It was already too late. And it wasn’t solely my responsibility. Anyone would find it difficult to say that a letter had flown in from seven years in the future, revealing that you would be injured.

Even if I had sent a warning, there was a high probability that Emma would have laughed it off as nonsense. Nevertheless, the guilt of not having done so lingered in my heart.

Reto felt the same way. Though he bore no responsibility, the incident had occurred while he was procuring materials necessary for his research. To take on a moral responsibility, he had seated himself here.

A sigh escaped his lips. He pressed his forehead.

“If I had known it would be like this, I wouldn’t have asked Emma for help… Damn it.”

“…It is no one’s fault.”

With Reto’s lament, the Lady Virgin Saint declared firmly. Though her voice remained gentle, it was infused with unwavering certainty.

“Those facing the death of a loved one all speak like that. It’s my fault, I should have done better… But every year, a few people die at the Academy. It’s just that Emma might be one of them this time.”

As the Lady Virgin Saint continued, she drew a sign of the cross over her chest. As if it was only fitting for mortals standing before the issue of life and death.

Had it not been for the current situation, I might have had my thoughts on her voluptuous bosom. But at this moment, neither Reto nor I thought of such things.

We merely remained silent.

A powerless human cannot say anything. It is only natural.

“That providence and chance cannot be shouldered by the mere power of mortals. So, my brothers, do not blame yourselves too much.”

With those final words, she clasped her hands again and lowered her head. It was a farewell. It seemed she was thinking of stepping away for a moment.

“Of course, if it were that simple, no one would suffer… I hope you can regain your peace of mind, Immanuel.”

With that murmured whisper, the Lady Virgin Saint departed.

After she left, Reto and I remained sprawled in front of the intensive care room for a long while.

The mere thought of losing someone, this very situation was unfamiliar to me. Throughout my life, I had attended only a handful of funerals.

Much less for a friend’s death, even if we weren’t particularly close, and a death that I might have been able to prevent.

It would be a lie to say my heart wasn’t complicated. My empty eyes stared blankly into the void as time passed.

What snapped my mind back to reality was the scream of a peasant.

“Oh, Emma! Emma, my daughter!”

Reto and I, suddenly alert, turned our eyes toward the source of the sound. There, a disheveled man in a ragged outfit was hurriedly running down the temple’s corridor.

His beard and hair were unkempt, and his appearance was far from tidy. He carried a meager bundle slung over his shoulder.

Recognizing who he was, Reto and I quickly rose to our feet. The man, whose head was now visible, collapsed in front of the intensive care room.

His face was one of uncertainty, unsure whether he could even enter. I cautiously approached him.

“Um… Are you Emma’s father?”

“…Huh? Do you know my daughter?”

It was clear. With certainty that he was Emma’s father, Reto and I immediately bowed our heads. It was the proper etiquette one should show towards a friend’s parents.

“I am Ian Fercurus, Emma’s friend.”

“I am Reto Ainston, Emma’s classmate.”

Upon hearing our introductions, Emma’s father opened his eyes wide and alternated his gaze between Reto and me. Then, after a moment of silence, he blinked repeatedly.

The next moment, Emma’s father reacted.

“F-Fercurus? Ainston…? Noble! Oh, I’m so sorry! This peasant, having little education, did not recognize you young masters…”

He suddenly prostrated himself, begging for our forgiveness.

Reto looked at me with a perplexed expression, and I gazed down at him with a mix of pity and sadness.

Life’s issues were that cruel.

Even standing before the death of his daughter, he had to plead for forgiveness for failing to recognize nobles.

That was truly unbearable.

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