I was not a particularly intelligent person.
I couldn't find an easy way to save both Gilgamesh and Enkidu.
All I could do was to delay the time.
Preventing Enkidu from going to pass judgment on Gilgamesh was the only thing I could do.
I taught Enkidu by pulling out trivial knowledge, knowledge from a past I could no longer even recall clearly.
He was full of curiosity, so he didn't notice my ulterior motives and continued to absorb my knowledge.
But even that had its limits. How I wished I had studied harder in my school days. I was filled with regret.
It had been nearly a year since I started living with Enkidu.
We were lying on the roof, looking up at the night sky together.
I pointed to the twinkling stars. Enkidu's gaze followed the tip of my finger.
“Stars range from the first to the sixth magnitude. The brightest stars are first magnitude, and the faint ones are sixth. If the mass is greater, the light will also be… stronger. Probably.”
I didn't actually know for sure.
It was something I'd read in an educational comic during my first life, when I was very young. The memory was hazy.
But it was just me and Enkidu here. Ereshkigal showed no signs of returning.
Therefore, everything I said was the truth.
Lies became truth.
Because the Enkidu who perceived me was someone who knew everything, it was important that I answer without hesitation.
That way, Enkidu wouldn't lose interest in me and leave to fulfill the purpose for which he was born.
Enkidu turned his head to look at me.
“Aren't the stars avatars of the gods? Does the brightness of a star change according to a god's rank?”
“That could be true as well. What I said is just a commonly known fact. Since this world has magecraft and gods, it would be a little different.”
“Marduk, did you live in a world without gods?”
When I nodded, Enkidu looked quite surprised.
“How? But you're a god, Marduk. Weren't you a god?”
“It’s a long story….”
I hesitated, looking at the curious Enkidu.
Could I truly trust Enkidu? Did I sincerely believe in him?
If so, Enkidu deserved to know my past.
In fact, he had to know.
But I… I couldn't decide.
“It's not easy"
“Marduk?”
A weapon created by the gods. A burden forced upon me, and now, a companion whose absence would make me feel a little lonely.
“Marduk, sometimes your eyes look like Ereshkigal’s.”
“Mine, like Ereshkigal's?”
“Yes. A dark, lonely feeling.”
Enkidu took my hand. It didn't feel like clay, but like the warm touch of a human hand.
“I want to know why.”
“And what will you do if you know?”
The words came out more curtly than I intended.
Enkidu didn't mind.
“I'll help you. Since you taught me, Marduk, I want to repay you.”
“How commendable of you. But I don't need it.”
“Why? Is it something I can't help with?”
“That’s not it. It means that since there's nothing I want, there's nothing for you to repay me for.”
He wore a look of complete confusion.
“Marduk, you said that everyone, whether god or human, has desires. Are you neither god nor human?”
“I'm just an ordinary human. A human who sometimes loses his mind and does strange things.”
“Is an ordinary human not a human?”
A human is a human.
“But you said all humans have desires. I think an ordinary human without desires isn't a human.”
I couldn't find a reply to his innocent logic.
In the end, I gave up. It was my fault for phrasing it strangely.
“…No. I misspoke. All humans are greedy. I'm greedy too.”
“Then what is the desire of the human Marduk?”
To live happily. To lead a comfortable life.
To grow old like that, and to die in the arms of the one I love.
“That's enough for me. I don't need treasures piled like mountains or outstanding talents.”
“You have simple desires, Marduk.”
Enkidu smiled. It wasn't a mocking smile.
It seemed like… a smile born from pure happiness.
For some reason, I felt embarrassed. It felt like this lump of clay was teasing me now that he’d gotten a bit smarter.
“Is it funny?”
“It’s interesting. You don't often talk about yourself, Marduk.”
That was true.
Today was the first time I'd even told him I had a dream.
“How was your dream formed, Marduk? Was it made in the world without gods?”
“I'm not telling you that much. Give it up.”
I sat up and climbed down from the roof.
Left alone, Enkidu just poked his head over the edge of the roof.
“Why?”
“Because there are too many shameful things to count.”
“Then you just have to not do shameful things, right?”
“If it were that easy, do you think I'd be in this situation?”
Enkidu immediately followed me down.
“Do you have regrets, Marduk?”
“If you forget everything, there's nothing to regret.”
“Since you remember everything, Marduk—— that means you do have regrets. Yes.”
I couldn't tell if this guy was perceptive or just dense.
Just as he said, I was regretting.
Previously, I had prevented this by erasing my memories, but since I had vowed not to erase them anymore, I could no longer take the easy way out.
I continue to remember.
Tamamo, who had trusted me, despaired to the point of self-harm when she heard my harsh words.
Toneriko’s tear-filled voice, which I kept hearing from the departing ship.
Johanna's trembling shoulders as she held me affectionately with her baby.
Gilgamesh, who cursed me while swallowing his rage.
Even now, they are so vivid. How could I not regret?
“Are you crying?”
“…Be quiet.”
I threw Enkidu into his room. He lay down on the bed without resistance.
Even as I was about to close the door, his mouth didn't stop.
“What do you regret?”
I tried to ignore him, but for some reason, I felt I had to answer.
If I spoke in generalities, he'd probably understand on his own.
“Everything. I regret doing nothing, and I regret doing anything. I'm living a terrible life.”
“Do you regret teaching me too, Marduk?”
“Not that. I mostly regret the things that wouldn't have happened if I had done just a little better, if I had been a little more considerate of others.”
“I see.”
“…I don't regret taking you in. I mean it.”
The exchange was over. Enkidu fell silent, and I had no energy left.
We exchanged our nightly goodbyes.
“Sleep well.”
“Okay. You too, Marduk.”
I closed the door.
Enkidu's eyes were on me until the very last moment.
It seems I won't be able to fall asleep easily tonight.
That man—Marduk was a more honest person than he thought.
He always answered any question asked and was endlessly kind to those he had taken under his wing.
Even if he seemed to dislike Enkidu, it stemmed from a kind of self-defense.
The day he would actually dislike Enkidu would never come.
A beast that has given its affection becomes just that simple.
“…I want to help Marduk find happiness.”
Enkidu lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“What is it that obstructs his happiness?”
Step by step, he built his logic.
“It doesn't seem to be the gods. He likes Ereshkigal.”
Marduk liked his current life, yet he was also anxious.
What was the reason?
Enkidu found the precise answer.
“Gilgamesh.”
Whenever Enkidu occasionally asked about Gilgamesh, Marduk would deliberately change the subject.
At those times, his expression was 'gloomy'. He showed an overt look of discomfort.
“Is Gilgamesh Marduk's enemy?”
Enkidu thought the possibility was high.
“…I should go meet Gilgamesh tomorrow.”
His purpose as a weapon was one thing, but what was more important was Marduk's happiness.
Enkidu wanted to repay him. He wanted to help Marduk become happy.
And among the people obstructing his happiness was Gilgamesh.
“Gilgamesh. What kind of person are you?”
Enkidu's eyes glinted fiercely.
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