HEO 116

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Wolf shook his head hurriedly. After all, among the warriors his age, there wasn’t a single person who wasn’t already a father or a mother. If they found out about this, they would point fingers and mock him, asking why he was flustered to this extent. Right, flailing around wouldn’t solve the problem. He had to come up with a plan.

Furthermore, there was one thing weighing on his mind. Once a spruce tree conceives, what happens next? For starters, the process of a man giving birth couldn’t possibly be the same as a woman’s.

“I understand.”

Wolf’s voice sounded calm, even to his own ears.

“I admit it. I acted recklessly and caused an accident. How does the pregnancy progress? What are the preparations for childbirth?”

〔Early abortion recommended.〕

Wolf doubted his ears. He felt as if an axe had been swung into his head.

Abortion.

“Why?”

〔The physical structure of a Type 2 Male Variant cannot accommodate natural childbirth. The only viable method is surgical extraction through the abdomen.〕

〔At the current medical level of human individuals, there are no confirmed cases of the mother surviving after said procedure.〕

“I’ve never heard anything like that.”

〔It was a commonly known fact 150 years ago when the persecution of mutants began.〕

〔All were aware that natural childbirth was impossible.〕

〔Type 2 Male Variants of that time avoided pregnancy by taking contraceptives constantly.〕

Had knowledge that was common sense to people of the past been forgotten over time? Wolf’s mind became a tangled mess. A man who conceives a child. That was how people described spruce trees. Within that simple sentence, a terrifying truth had been embedded.

They can conceive, but they cannot give birth?

Mutants were treated by the Stoll People like wandering troupes. They were the kind of gossip one chatted about while clinking glasses, so Wolf had picked up various stories. Especially stories about the female mutant, the Birch. For instance, how one had impregnated a tribal chief’s daughter and fled. Or how one had pretended to be a man, married a wealthy widow, and lived in luxury. Or how a great beauty had been involved with nine different men before being exposed as a Birch. People would hold their bellies laughing at those scandals of uncertain truth, sometimes spraying wine out of their noses.

But what about the male mutant, the spruce tree? Looking back, he hadn’t heard even a minor anecdote about a child born to a spruce tree. Their stories usually ended at a well, a cliff, or a blade. Stories of carving away their own lives with their own hands. In fact, the stories Wolf had encountered most were lewd tales regarding their bodies. Things like how spruce trees produce fluid from there during intercourse.

〔Type 2 Male Variants can also resolve their Rut through intercourse with ordinary males.〕

〔Therefore, if you intend to continue a sexual relationship with a Type 2 Male Variant, contraception is essential.〕

Wolf clenched his fists. His heart pounded so hard his pectoral muscles almost ached.

“Tell me the method for abortion.”

His voice was so low it was barely audible.

“And the method for contraception, too.”

* * *

Wolf headed toward the open-air bath carrying a tray. There were many things on the tray. A wine kettle filled with wine made from Pirate Island raspberries, two glasses, a glistening hunk of greasy cheese, a knife, and a water kettle.

He had wiped his body clean with a towel and wrapped one around his waist. He doubted whether this would restore Silver’s impression of him, but still. Damn that Noose.

The path from the front door of the house to the open-air bath curved along the shoulder of the hill. Wolf walked deliberately slowly. He needed time before speaking to the person he had almost driven to death without knowing anything.

Let’s just think of it as being lucky. For both me and Silver.

The plants Byeoruki had recited in the tone of a boredom-stricken bureaucrat. The bitter-root flower that ripens only when the autumn leaves begin to rot. The red maiden’s glove flower that blooms in mid-autumn. The crow-milk mushroom that sprouts from birch trees only when autumn deepens. Had it been any other season, they all would have vanished into the soil, the snow, or the belly of a mountain goat. This autumn, the mountains and hills of Pirate Island were blooming with herbs that would prevent Silver from being shoved into a grave.

Wolf etched his plan into his mind with every step. He would explain everything to Silver. He would pour a glass of wine, confess that he was an ash tree, and speak calmly. There’s something you need to know. When the dawn light rises, we have to go up the mountain. Because…

He would tell everything without concealment, without lies. That was the duty of a person taking responsibility.

He really was lucky. If Byeoruki hadn’t told him, he might have harbored a foolish dream in his heart. He might have imagined himself as a father. He would have smiled at Silver across the breakfast table every morning, counting down the days with a fluttering heart. All while unaware that what resided in Silver’s womb might actually be an executioner. And then one day, blood would burst, Silver’s body would lose its color and go limp, and he would be left alone in despair, holding a single corpse in his arms… Wait.

Wolf stopped in his tracks. He stared blankly at the ground for a while before leaning his back against the wall. The absurdity hit him belatedly.

Did I… want to be a father?

Since when?

He blinked and gazed up at the night sky. Clusters of shining stars dyed the black night sky silver-grey. It looked like a tapestry densely embedded with shattered shards of glass.

A father. He had recalled that unfamiliar term far too easily. As if it had been settled in his mind for a long time.

This was extremely strange. Wolf had never once wanted a child in the past. Nor had he ever wanted to start a family.

A lack of sexual desire was equivalent to a lack of reproductive desire. In the future Wolf had dreamed of during his teens, when he lived without a single nocturnal emission, there was only one person. Wolf himself. A modest bakery with a white apron and a sign. An oven, flour, a clean and efficient kitchen—that was all. There was no woman waiting for a husband on the second floor of the bakery, nor an infant crying in a cradle.

It was the same after he began his second life, redefined as the Prince of Stoll. In the future Wolf dreamed of, there was himself, Red Eagle who had returned to human form, and additionally, the guy’s wife and children. If drawn as a picture, it would be Red Eagle’s family smiling happily behind him. In that picture, Wolf was the uncle. The person who appeared with arms full of gifts for his nephews and nieces, had dinner with them, and left the house before the night grew deep. Someone close, like family.

Either way, an ordinary person would have found it incredibly bizarre. But to Wolf, that dream was as natural and obvious as the Sunday that came every week. But now…

Why am I like this?

It’s strange. This is strange.

Wolf closed his eyes tightly. He imagined a flock of sheep frolicking in a vast field and locked them into a pen one by one. Once the field was empty, he took a breath and posed a question. The future I want is?

The scene that immediately came to mind was… a green field under a blue sky. A modest farmhouse with smoke rising from a grey-roofed chimney. Against the backdrop of that beautiful nature and pretty house, Wolf was standing side-by-side with Silver, holding hands.

With Silver. Side-by-side, holding hands.

Wolf snapped his eyes open. The strength drained from his legs, and he almost dropped the tray. The kettle, glasses, and cheese slid toward the edge of the tray.

Was it Silver that I wanted? Was ‘being a father’ just the wrapping paper hiding my true desire?

Wolf pressed his palm against his forehead. Memories followed one another. The moment he was surprised to find himself secretly hoping Silver was a spruce tree. The time he stayed awake all night in front of the empty slope while waiting for Silver. The time he couldn’t leave for the mainland immediately even after getting his hands on the pirate crew because he was waiting for Silver. Even now, he wanted a future together with Silver.

Everything was a mystery. How long had it been since he met Silver for him to be like this? Even though it was his own emotion, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. If it were a music box or a pocket watch, he would have disassembled it completely to look at the parts and figure out the operating principle, damn it.

Don’t think too complicatedly. This is just… a physical reaction.

He could find several reasons in the physical. Logical reasons that fit perfectly like a flawless ledger, easily withstanding the pressure of countless questions. Pheromones. Phase Alignment Symptom. Rut. Survival instinct. If he gathered these reasons appropriately, a single conclusion, cold and sharp like a human dissection tool, was completed.

In short, Wolf and Silver were like a lock and a key. Or the mainspring and gears of a pocket watch. The longing to be with Silver was merely the product of physical compatibility.

Wolf swallowed a curse and headed toward the open-air bath again. He felt exactly like a beast. A being that moves only by blind instinct during the breeding season, regardless of reason.

In the meantime, the corner of the house had come close. White steam scattered in the darkness. The sound of splashing hot spring water, the wind, and the sound of waves crashing from the sea below the hill drifted along with the steam.

Wolf stopped in front of the corner. Extending only the tray over the wall, he spoke with a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Silver, can I come in? I’ve got wine and cheese. And me as a bonus. If you don’t like it, just leave me standing outside the door.”