Home/The Seven-Year-Old Village Chief of Exile/ch 55

Chapter 55

Aunt Nema and I moved to a small rest area outside the training ground.

'She doesn't seem to be hurt...'

Throughout our walk side by side, I carefully checked Aunt Nema's body for injuries. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be anything serious.

'Did she awaken as a berserker?'

Had she lost her reason and gone on a rampage, as Verity had said?

'If it was because of our conversation earlier...'

Feeling apologetic and ashamed, I lowered my gaze.

'...Huh?'

I noticed something strange.

'Her hands are empty.'

The wrecked training ground was covered in various marks.

Holes like those made by a heavy mace, long scratches like those of a giant beast's claws.

But Aunt Nema's hands were empty. There were no weapons on the floor either.

"Um, let's talk outside first."

We sat down in a small pavilion in the rest area. Though it only blocked the sun, it instantly became more comfortable.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you hurt anywhere? Was the training ground your doing?"

"...Scared?"

"No."

I shook my head.

"I don't really get scared."

"......"

"Really! I wouldn't lie about something like this. There's no benefit to it!"

Only then did Aunt Nema's expression soften.

She'd asked me for advice, yet she didn't say anything.

I didn't try to force a conversation either. Sitting alone together, just enjoying the peaceful silence, wasn't bad.

Poppy and Chuchu seemed to be in a good mood too, lying belly-down under the chair, taking a nap.

"...I used scissors."

As I relaxed, Aunt Nema spoke calmly.

She showed me both palms.

My eyes widened.

Her palms were covered in blood.

And there was a lump of metal, rounded like a stone. It was a pair of scissors.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ointment I kept in my room's drawer.

"Did you do this to yourself..."

"I ended up like this from swinging the scissors."

"It's not a lie, right?"

"I don't lie about this either. As I swung them, the blades kept digging into my palms..."

"Next time, use a sword, hammer, or saw. There are plenty of weapons in the training ground. They're there for you to use, so why..."

"Most people would tell me not to."

"I'm not most people."

After applying plenty of ointment to her ruined palms, I spread a handkerchief over her thighs so she could rest her hands comfortably.

Even for such a small gesture, Aunt Nema thanked me.

"Ugh, even applying it hurts me..."

"It's not as painful as it looks."

"It hurts my heart, though? Please take care of your body."

"Take care of your..."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Nothing."

I blew on the ointment, as if to help it heal.

"Hey..."

Aunt Nema wiggled her fingers slightly. The ointment on her wounds seemed to sting.

"Actually, there were signs."

"Signs..."

"About my aptitude. The berserker one..."

"Ah..."

I didn't know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut.

Instead of adding meaningless words, I chose to just listen quietly so Aunt Nema could speak comfortably.

"During training, my vision started to blur more and more often. And each time, my body felt filled with strength and strangely refreshed..."

"......"

As expected.

'I wasn't wrong.'

I'd wondered why she'd looked so refreshed in the training ground earlier—it was because she'd released her suppressed madness.

And the sadness I'd seen on her face was likely due to being swept up by unwanted madness.

'So she did go berserk?'

I swung my dangling legs slowly.

Amidst my pity, there was a lingering question.

'But as a rampage...'

It seemed a bit lacking.

For one, Aunt Nema's body was far too intact.

Her hands were seriously injured, but compared to the state of the training ground, it seemed minor.

The fact that she had no injuries besides her hands was especially strange.

The fact that she'd used scissors instead of the perfectly good weapons in the training ground meant she still had enough reason to make such an inefficient choice.

'......'

At that moment.

'...Why scissors, of all things?'

Just then, Aunt Nema began speaking again.

"I've always been shy and timid since I was little, so I didn't mix well with people."

Her only friend during those childhood days was a pair of scissors.

"The sound of cutting paper, the feeling of cleanly slicing through fabric—it gave me the confidence that I could do anything."

Even though her hands were scarred because of those scissors.

Aunt Nema's face was full of happiness.

Just like me with my magical girl obsession.

'Ah, so that's why she used scissors.'

To suppress the rising madness, she'd grabbed scissors.

The wrecked training ground was evidence of her desperate struggle to hold onto her reason.

"Thanks to scissors, I learned to handle fabric well and even picked up sewing. I could also socialize with people. I even worked at a pretty famous clothing store."

Even though she must be suffering more than anyone right now, Aunt Nema told me about the good old days.

Without even knowing how much it burned me up inside.

"Haha, actually, back then I..."

But then.

Aunt Nema stopped mid-sentence, her expression strangely stiff.

"Auntie?"

"Huh? Ah, anyway..."

"What's wrong?"

"...Hmm, anyway, I'm just a gloomy person like this."

Then she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret.

"So, actually, I was a little happy when I was framed and sent to the exile camp."

"Pardon?"

Auntie too?

'There was a comrade here all along!'

My heart pounded.

"At first, I was upset. But exile life was far more..."

"Peaceful and comfortable, right?"

"Exactly! I thought I'd be fine living here forever."

"Me too!"

"R-really?"

Aunt Nema's face reddened with joy.

"I, I..."

Her eyes grew redder, and eventually tears began to fall.

"I thought I was the only one with such crazy thoughts, so..."

The ointment on her hands hadn't been absorbed yet, so I used my sleeve to wipe her wet eyes instead.

Finally calmer, Aunt Nema gave an awkward smile. She seemed embarrassed to have cried in front of a child.

"...Hebenia."

I sensed it at that moment.

"I really love this village."

Aunt Nema was finally about to reveal her true feelings.

And what she was worried about.

"The villagers are the kindest and gentlest people I've ever met. I don't want them to hate me."

"I feel the same."

"So, I..."

"You don't want to show them what you're like as a berserker?"

"......"

"You're afraid they'll point fingers and call you strange?"

"......"

"Has that happened before?"

"......"

Silence was affirmation.

The pleasant stillness turned into an awkward atmosphere in an instant.

'The villagers wouldn't discriminate against someone for that.'

But I couldn't just say that.

So.

"Actually, I'm twenty-five, but when I opened my eyes, I was seven."

I decided to prove that I was stranger than her.

For the villagers, the village chief would do anything.

---

Hebenia's confession was truly childish and absurd.

"Teasing Ian oppa is the most fun for me. I'm actually older than Ian, but I still call him oppa. Because if you're handsome, you're oppa."

"H-Hebenia...?"

"And Libby unnie is pretty, so she's unnie. I've always wanted a sister. Where I used to live, I only had a crappy brother and younger brother..."

"......"

"And I love power too. Every time the adults call me village chief and bow down to me, I feel like I'm flying!"

Flustered, Nema could only blink slowly, speechless.

Having said her fill without letting anyone interrupt, Hebenia caught her breath. Then she asked.

"Auntie, am I strange?"

"......"

"A twenty-five-year-old pretending to be seven. Isn't that disgusting and creepy?"

"...Not at all."

The answer was delayed, but Nema's blue eyes shone sincerely.

Hebenia looked straight into those eyes.

"But I killed the guards."

Realizing she was talking about the day they'd escaped the exile camp, Nema shot up from her seat.

Poppy and Chuchu, who had been lying under the bench, startled, jumped up and growled.

"Th-that was...!"

Nema seemed angry, as if she desperately wanted to deny it.

But Hebenia pushed harder.

"I asked the demon to kill the guards. A seven-year-old, trying to survive, devalued life."

"Hebenia, that was to protect us."

"If a similar situation arises again, I'll choose to kill people without a second thought again."

"We wouldn't—!"

"I know you won't find it strange."

Cutting her off as if she'd been waiting for it, Hebenia smiled.

"Same goes for me."

Speechless, Nema froze for a moment, then slumped back onto the bench.

Her expression, as if struck in a weak spot, twisted as if she might cry.

"I won't hate you even if you go berserk."

She firmly stated that such a thing would never happen in a lifetime.

"Because it's a choice to protect each other—how is that any different from what I do?"

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