By Zephyria 
Draped in a shawl large enough to cover his entire body, Leonardo sat atop a wide, flat rock that resembled an altar. The cape-shawl wrapped around him was dyed with natural pigments, making its colors diverse yet harmonious. Small tassels hung densely along the edges, giving it an impression of being rustic yet ornate.
The child who had woven it herself on a loom moved busily around the perimeter of the rock, preparing a simple ritual. Her hands worked frantically, smoothing out the shawl and tidying every single strand of the tassels. Yet, whenever Leonardo flailed his arms while chewing on a peach, she would smack him on the head with a wooden ladle.
“Ow! That hurts—!”
“My arm hurts more, you brat. I told you to stay still, can’t you hold it for one second?”
Leonardo looked back at the child with a scowl, rubbing the tingling back of his head. Even so, he took another bite of the peach in his hand. Even if he tried not to move, he was so hungry he couldn’t stand it.
The pool in the cave hadn’t been that cold, but perhaps because he had been submerged in the water for so long, his body seemed to be continuously consuming calories to maintain its temperature.
Since he was currently wearing nothing but a piece of cloth over his naked body, his back and neck instinctively curled up whenever a breeze blew, no matter how warm the sunlight was.
“When is this finally going to be over? I’m dying of cold and hunger.”
“Dying? What do you mean dying? You won’t take the medicine I told you to, and you’re just stuffing yourself with divinity like a pig…”
The child cut off his grievances with a single blow and clicked her tongue, looking down at the fruit cores rolling on the ground. More than half of the few fruits she had brought for the ritual were already gone. If he had drunk the concoction she had boiled in the pot earlier, he wouldn’t be feeling this hungry.
“She said she’s trying to strip away that residual thought or whatever. Just bear with it a little longer. And Grandma, please don’t hit the Captain’s head; what if he faints again?”
Nero, who was standing beside the child holding a rattan basket, chimed in hesitantly. Inside the basket were ‘yellow flowers with many leaves’ that he and his comrades had gathered. The flowers, piled high regardless of variety, were what the child had instructed them to find outside the cave.
“Goodness, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If it weren’t for me, that fellow would have been swallowed by residual thoughts already.”
The child said she had been preparing to welcome guests at her home since around the time Boreum approached. She claimed that as soon as she sensed an unusual vibration, she instinctively knew the guest Grimbleton mentioned had arrived.
However, the scale and ferocity of the residual thoughts Leonardo brought with him were far more serious than expected. Originally, she should not have intervened while the visitors were crossing the swamp, but fearing her home might actually be destroyed, she had no choice but to squeeze through the rift and bring them into this secret world.
Thanks to that, the first thing Leonardo saw upon emerging from the cave was a lush greenery that looked like something from a subtropical region. Trees with trunks so thick that five adults couldn’t embrace them even with open arms soared toward the open sky. Luscious fruits hung in clusters everywhere, enough to make one’s head spin, and multicolored flowers were in full, lavish bloom.
The strange thing was that the vast forest was surrounded by high ridges, like a volcanic caldera. It felt like a fortress that made extreme use of the basin terrain, and thanks to the blend of rare vegetation, it gave a completely different impression from the desolate swamp.
A place filled with life that had grown under protection and an energy brimming with stability. The child called this place the Hiatus Temple, a rift and a void in time and space.
“So, what exactly is this ‘residual thought’ thing? Does it mean he’s haunted by a ghost?”
Taylor, who was sitting on a jumper spread beneath a thick tree trunk, asked with a look of discomfort as he watched the Captain, who looked like a sacrificial offering. The child, having tidied the shawl once more, beckoned to Nero standing beside her.
“You can’t necessarily call residual thoughts ghosts.”
Nero hurriedly bent his waist to lower the basket to the child’s height. Unlike Taylor, who loved superstitions but was now wary, Nero seemed ready to do anything if this mysterious ritual would help the Captain.
“Then what is it?”
When Taylor asked again, the child picked up a handful of flowers. She then flicked the petals at Leonardo’s feet. According to her, yellow flowers were full of the sun’s energy, and the more leaves they had, the better they could absorb light. The yang energy they attracted played an excellent role in shaking off damp, gloomy residual thoughts.
“If you translate ‘residual thought’ literally, it means a thought held deeply in the heart by a being with a self. Grudges from death are the easiest hearts to give birth to residual thoughts, so ghosts are likely mixed in there. However, a state where heavy emotions—such as another’s hatred, anger, or murderous intent—follow the object of their obsession is also called a residual thought. I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your lives, but such residual thoughts are clinging to you lot quite grotesquely.”
At those words, Leonardo, who had been skillfully biting into his peach, stiffened for a moment. He swallowed the flesh, which had suddenly felt coarse in his throat, and spoke.
“They’re clinging to these guys too, not just me?”
“Yes. It’s just that the residual thoughts clinging to you are exceptionally aggressive, but the ones on these fellows are no ordinary feat either. I take it you haven’t lived ordinary lives?”
Finder, who had been lying quietly in a vine hammock hanging under a sturdy branch, shifted his eyes. Taylor, who had been resting his chin on his hand, and Nero, who had volunteered as the child’s assistant, did the same.
Hatred, anger, and murderous intent harbored by others. These were emotions that those who had rolled through battlefields could not separate themselves from.
However, hearing the reality of it was not pleasant.
“If you were ordinary humans, your minds would have collapsed and you would have died long ago. That is what karma is. Those who committed sins during their lifetime eventually destroy themselves through the residual thoughts summoned by their own karma. While residual thoughts cannot cause physical pain in the outside world, they cause equivalent mental agony, eventually driving the object of obsession in the direction they desire.”
“How is that any different from a ghost? How is it different from the vengeful spirits that constantly pour curses on us? And we had reasons why we had to—”
Leonardo, who had responded in a sharp tone, clamped his mouth shut.
Since he couldn’t reveal that his comrades were soldiers, he also couldn’t reveal the reason why negative residual thoughts were clinging to them. Yet, staying silent made his chest feel so tight and aggrieved that he wanted to vomit up all the fruit he had eaten.
Why they had to engage in slaughter even at the cost of damaging their own psyches. Why they had to stain their hands with blood and roll in fields of corpses swarming with maggots—he wanted to pour out that truth.
Though he was used to words spoken easily by those who didn’t know, he could not tolerate them wounding his comrades’ hearts.
Sensing the depressed atmosphere among the four, the child continued.
“Residual thoughts aren’t only created from wrong emotions. They can also sprout from feelings of joy, emotion, and longing. Or, the heart with which you deeply worry for one another can wrap around you like a talisman and become a residual thought. A chaotic mixture of these things exists beside you.”
The child’s eyes narrowed. She murmured while looking at the transparent form shimmering around Leonardo.
“I see this form often in those commonly called ‘heroes.’”
Leonardo’s lower jaw, which had been clenched tight, stopped its slight trembling for a moment.
“What?”
“As many as the people you’ve harmed, there are also many you’ve saved. Those residual thoughts are fighting evil energies every day to protect you. That is also the reason your mind hasn’t collapsed and has remained intact.”
As she spoke, the child scooped another generous ladle from the pot leaning against a corner of the rock. She then began to draw a round circle, splashing the green liquid around the rock where Leonardo sat.
“But among them, the most powerful residual thought protecting you is…”
Finally, she picked up another handful of yellow flowers and scattered them over Leonardo’s head. The petals fluttered down like rain, sliding over his blonde hair.
Leonardo closed his eyes slowly and then opened them. It felt more like being hit by flowers than a soft touch, but after hearing that one sentence, he found himself falling silent without realizing it.
Soon, the child, who had been absorbed in scattering flowers, stopped and looked up at the sky.
Just then, the drifting clouds cleared, and sunlight poured through the gaps in the lush leaves. The beams of light drew diagonal lines across the rock Leonardo sat on, staining it in gentle colors. Accordingly, the surfaces of the yellow petals absorbed the light and began to sparkle in gold.
The black energy lurking around Leonardo let out another silent scream and scattered. As it did, Leonardo felt the weight on his shoulders gradually lighten.
With a faint smile, the child looked at him and whispered softly.
“It’s love.”