Chapter 4 – The Short-Lived Ones
"Even so," said the city lord softly, his voice trembling, "every precious memory of my life is here…
After my family passed away, it was these happy memories that gave me the strength to go on."
A sharp pain stabbed through Elias's mind.
Happy memories…
It was such a distant phrase.
And yet—hadn't he once…
Ugh!
A fragment of something flickered through his mind—
then vanished, swallowed by the haze.
The city lord stepped toward the tall window, eyes glistening, gazing out over his vast estate.
"The toy house my father built with his own hands… the corridor where my mother taught me to walk… the ballroom where my wife and I first met, and the garden where we wed—that was the happiest day of my life.
And the training yard where my son once sparred… ever since he fell in battle, that place—and the whole estate—has been overrun with cockroaches. They crawl everywhere now…"
Serie was about to interject, but Aivis suddenly stepped forward, eyes glinting faintly.
"My lord," he said, "I'll help you."
——
Under the dim glow of candlelight, the table was buried under scrolls and stacks of parchment. Aivis worked feverishly, quill scratching against the page.
Serie leaned against the window, staring blankly at the lamplights of the street outside.
The so-called "great sage" had been writing for three days straight. How much longer would this madness last?
She turned her head—and froze. A cockroach was crawling right over Aivis's head.
"…Madman," she muttered.
Without even glancing up, Aivis said calmly, "Serie, of all people, you—an elf who lives for centuries—should be the most patient, shouldn't you?"
"Compared to monsters, cockroaches aren't true predators," he explained evenly. "Human research on them is primitive at best. To devise an effective extermination spell, I must construct an entirely new system of magic from scratch. I estimate it'll take about three months."
"Three months, he says," Serie snorted.
Through her long life, she'd seen her share of human foolishness.
"Short-lived creatures," she said, shaking her head, "and yet they're willing to waste three whole months studying something as trivial as cockroaches. Truly insane…"
"Pipe down, you old elf," came Elias's voice from the rooftop. He was lying there lazily, gazing up at the night sky.
"A sage creates magic to help mankind," Elias said. "It's something neither you nor I—who've long outlived our purposes—could ever understand."
"Help humanity, huh?" Serie sneered. "Only he would think like that. In my eyes, the common lot of humans don't even deserve magic."
——
During those three months in which Aivis worked on his 'Cockroach-Killing Spell', Elias and Serie spent their time hunting monsters beyond the city walls.
After they slew the last beakbeast in the riverlands, Serie finally snapped, shouting toward Elias—who was casually prying a fang from the beast's jaw.
"Hey, is he seriously still working on that?"
Elias held the fang up to the light, frowning. "Hmm. Severe decay. The creatures around here really don't care for dental hygiene…"
"I'm talking to you!" Serie hissed.
"What? Oh, Aivis? One more month. Just give him that."
"I mean," Serie said through gritted teeth, "why would a human—whose life is so short—pour all of it into something so meaningless?"
"You've finally asked the right person," Elias said mockingly.
"As everyone knows, we demons have a deep and profound understanding of human emotion."
Serie glared at him. "Right. What could a demon possibly understand about that?"
Elias fell silent.
Because, truthfully, he hadn't lied.
Ever since he'd become a demon, as his humanity faded, so too did his ability to grasp human feeling.
Now, the best he could manage… was simply not to eat people.
But that day, when he'd heard the city lord speak—
why had his chest ached like that?
That stabbing pain… that eerie familiarity—
could it be that, in another life, he had once felt the same?
——
Three months passed—barely a blink to an elf or a demon.
In time, the episode would fade from their memories completely.
But for Aivis, it was a moment he would never forget.
"My lord," he said with quiet pride, "here it is—The Spell to Instantly Kill Cockroaches. With a mere snap of your fingers, every cockroach in your estate will die in an instant."
The city lord accepted the grimoire with trembling hands, eyes brimming with tears.
"Thank you, my sage. With this book, I can finally preserve the memories that matter most."
"And you two, brave mages—your efforts in slaying the beasts have brought peace to the people of Lister."
"As a token of our gratitude, I will commission statues of you all, that your deeds may be remembered through the ages!"
"Even if this manor crumbles one day, my descendants will carve your likenesses anew, to honor your kindness forever!"
Standing before the newly finished statues, Aivis's eyes shone with excitement.
"What do you think?" he said. "A thousand years from now—how will our statues look?"
Serie glanced at her own expressionless stone face. "Who knows. When the time comes, I'll return to see for myself—if this city still stands."
Elias brushed his long hair aside. "Mine will look magnificent, of course. Handsome, dashing, eternal."
"After all, this face of mine is a work of art. Not even a thousand years can change that."
"Is that so?" Serie muttered, lips twitching. "Something tells me it'll turn out… differently."
——
Even after the city lord's carriage escorted them past the gates, Aivis still wore that same bright smile—
a smile untouched by time, belief shining in his eyes,
as if he truly believed that even the smallest of magics
could make the fleeting lives of humans
a little brighter.
Serie rested her cheeks in her hands, smiling faintly as she gazed at the man beside her.
"You humans really are strange," she said. "Something so trivial can make you happy. I can't tell if that's innocence… or stupidity."
Aivis chuckled softly. "That's precisely because our lives are short, and our memories limited. Every fleeting moment of happiness is worth remembering, isn't it?"
He lifted his gaze toward the carriage window, watching as the walls of Lister slowly faded into the distant horizon.
"The city lord was right," he murmured. "We humans survive on the strength of happy memories."
"To me, magic itself is happiness. To create magic is to create joy. And to share it with those in need—
that is to share happiness."
"Until the final moment of my life, I'll keep crafting spells to help people realize what they thought impossible. Those creations—those smiles—will be the happiest memories I leave behind."
——
Ugh—!
That strange pain struck Elias again.
He clutched one eye, a flash of something—some half-remembered image—burning across his vision.
A memory…?
A kitchen lit by a weak bulb.
A man's voice filled with pride:
"After saving for so many years, we finally bought a new house! No more cockroaches crawling across the floor. Mom and Dad will work hard, and once we finish paying the mortgage—our family will finally be at peace."
The warmth of a child's laughter.
The scent of soap.
Then—silence.
——
"Elias… are you all right?"
Under Aivis's worried gaze, Elias took a deep breath.
"I think… I just remembered something. Maybe that thing you humans call… happiness."
Aivis blinked in surprise—then smiled, nodding gently.
"That's good," he said. "Try to feel it. Those small, fleeting fragments of life."
"You'll remember more, someday."
"One day, you'll remember it all."
——
Three Thousand years later.
Elias stood before the weathered stone statues of the three travelers, holding the ancient grimoire—
The Magic That Instantly Kills Cockroaches.
Aivis, that fool…
Didn't he once wonder what their statues would look like a thousand years later?
Now Elias could see for himself.
The "great sage" had become a scowling, bearded brute in stone—
and yet, seeing him again, Elias felt something tighten in his chest.
Forget it…
At least Aivis's magic still served humanity.
At least it still created the happiness he'd spoken of.
Elias opened the grimoire and snapped his fingers.
In an instant, every cockroach in the village turned to ash.
But he didn't smile.
He only lowered his gaze, lost in thought.
"…Heh."
A quiet sigh escaped him.
"I almost miss that short-lived fool."