章 174: Ch.174
He was very flippant to everything including taking care of oneself.
Of course, considering the war situation, it might be natural, but she couldn't stand letting his stubble grow unchecked for a week.
The face covered with stubble around the mouth, chin, and cheeks would undoubtedly look decent once groomed, given its originally handsome features.
"Please shave your beard. It's unsanitary and unsightly."
She must have voiced this complaint more than once.
Each time, he, the commander, would shrug his shoulders and reluctantly shave his beard with a razor or shaver.
It's not that she disliked the bearded look; it emphasized his masculine aura and charm. Thanks to that, it was quite a challenge to make eye contact with him. To be honest, it made her shy.
She think she couldn't be straightforward in front of him. If she were more honest—more like the Snow White or Lilith before undergoing a change of heart—she might not have any regrets.
On that night—the moment of parting—he also had a stubble.
She can't forget the commander's face at that moment.
A person who has accepted imminent death, prepared for it, must surely have a calm face and speak with a gentle, soft voice.
That's why it's unforgettable.
The expression and voice directed at that moment are etched in her memory.
That's probably why.
Knowing it was a lost existence—something she could never meet again forever—She couldn't endure it.
As an old friend who visited this place had described, it resembled him.
In a strange coincidence, just like at that moment, She threw herself into the arms of the presence that appeared with a thin stubble on her face.
Thin arms wrapped around the back burdened with a backpack, embracing tightly.
"I won't let go anymore—I WILL never let go."
With emotions strong enough to make her want to scream, she embraced him tightly, pressing her forehead against the hard body armor.
Her shoulders trembled, and even breathing felt unreliable. If she took a single breath, the suppressed sobbing would have uncontrollably overflowed.
A hundred years had long since passed. A century—seemed too long. Or was it short? She don't know.
Enslaved by revenge, the years of planning might have been long, or it might have been just a momentary thing.
Only for revenge—for reclaiming what was originally theirs—no, it was theirs from the beginning. To say "reclaim" is not an accurate expression.
In her mind, she traces back the empty and dry months, recalling the events of that day.
To him, at that time—if only she could cling to him and hold him back—she can't help but think that.
If only she could be honest with herself—
"I heard I would be welcomed, but I didn't expect it to be this much."
A calm and perplexed low voice that resonates in her ears, strangely matching the echoes of that day, involuntarily moistens her eyes.
"*Hick*... W-welcome...!"
No, that's not it. What she wants to say, what she wants to talk about, there must be plenty.
A century since parting—how he spent it, how difficult it was, it would be so satisfying to confess all the pent-up and smoldering emotions in her heart.
"For a young lady I meet for the first time, especially such a beautiful one, to receive such a warm welcome is a great honor for a man... but let's start, like gentlemen and ladies, from the beginning."
"──────"
-----What, did he say just now?
She could even feel the presence of a cold icicle piercing through her chest.
Removing her forehead from the hard body armor, and turning to his back, the strength in the arms that had tightly embraced her fades away.
"Nice to meet you, beautiful lady. It's an honor to meet you."
He really looks like him. Like a carbon copy.
With tears in her eyes, she looks up.
His rugged facial features, the attractive stern expression, the deep vertical wrinkles carved into his forehead, and the stubble growing sparsely around his mouth, chin, and cheeks—all just as they were in those days.
The right eye—there was an unfamiliar scar reaching up to the brow. He must have been injured in some operation.
He looks so much alike. However, what did the old friend, Rapunzel, what did she say?
---
.
.
.
"So, what's the name of the person who resembles him?"
"...Shaw Moore."
"...Well, that's different then. He's probably not a descendant. The surname is different."
.
.
.
------
Ah, that's right. He was... he was a human.
No longer—does he exist in this world. There's no way there could be a human who could live for an eternity.
So, the person standing before her—
"Sorry, I... was too reminded of an old friend."
Apologizing for her rudeness, she forcefully released her arm from his grasp, which instinctively clung, and took a step back.
Facing him again, Dorothy—removed the extended armament wrapped around her body. She lightly picked up the short hem of her pure white dress with her fingertips and bowed.
"Welcome. To the paradise of those who survived."
In a ladylike manner—she bowed.
To the young man in front of her, who resembled that person so much, whether he was a former friend, a comrade in arms, or someone precious—the labels varied, but she bowed elegantly.
----
.
.
.
.
The journey went smoothly, and Moore wished he could invite the past figure who coined the phrase "all's well that ends well."
After all, it had been quite a trial.
Undoubtedly, the assigned tests were divided into multiple stages, such as primary and secondary examinations.
Passing through the forest infested with Rapture—encountering small groups of Rapture several times, resulting in skirmishes.
He had destroyed six enemy aircraft, but the clearly larger number had worn down his nerves and stamina unnecessarily.
About a day had passed since leaving Haran's testing grounds, and they finally arrived at the lush—truly depicted paradise.
For eyes accustomed to only the desolate landscapes of the surface, even the paradise felt dazzling.
Just as they began walking through the grassy plains, a pure white angel descended from above. Feeling alert, Moore was about to deactivate the safety device on his assault rifle when suddenly, he found himself being hugged, unable to conceal his confusion.
A pure white angel with a soft touch and a scent of flowers, with hair in the color of deep red-purple—azalea color, clung to his chest, shoulders shaking.
Certainly, it should have been their first meeting.
"Uh..."
His head hurt.
Plagued by frequent headaches, he tried to calm his voice while carving deep vertical wrinkles on his forehead. He gestured for her to let go.
Accepting a graceful bow, Moore returned the courtesy appropriately—releasing the thumb from the safety device on the assault rifle.
"This is paradise. The official name is Ground Base Eden. And I am the guide of this base—Dorothy. Feel free to call me Dorothy. Moore-sama."
"Why... my name?"
They hadn't even finished introducing themselves yet.
When Moore voiced his question, Dorothy, with her well-defined lips, smiled and nodded.
"Those who pass the trials of paradise are elites meant to usher in a new era on the surface—so naturally, I know."
"...Elites... If that's the case, I feel woefully inadequate. Besides, I'm just here as a guest. I don't know if the host of this place has given permission."
Even if the permission to enter paradise was some sort of permit or invitation for passing the trials, it was uncertain if Haran, the gatekeeper, had contacted the base's commander or the person in charge.
His self-deprecating and ironic words seemed to touch a chord within Dorothy's heart, occasionally causing her eyes to flicker.
"Don't feel too pressured. No one will burden you with a significant mission against your will."
"...Oh, I appreciate that."
With sincerity, Moore sighed somewhat forlornly. Seeing him in that state, she offered a faint wry smile and extended her hand.
"Now, this way. Since the weather is nice, why not visit the paradise's garden first?"
As a guest, he should respond to the guide's suggestion. He nodded in agreement, and before shaking the slender hand extended to him, he removed the dirty gloves and offered his left hand.
Dorothy—her name sounded familiar.
Dorothy is... probably not interested in such things anymore...
It was the name mentioned by the golden saint, Rapunzel.
Likely a member of the former Goddess Squad.
Now that existence stood before him.
For Moore, it was nostalgic, but more than that, the frequent headaches he had been experiencing lately were occupying most of his thoughts, though they were gradually calming down.
Nevertheless, the headaches had finally subsided. Thanks to that, he could now concentrate on strolling through the garden with the beautiful lady.
"The sunlight must feel warm, right?"
"Yeah. It's soaking into my sunlight-deprived body."
"Hehe."
A small footpath had been set up in the garden, lush and well-maintained. Dorothy walked next to Moore, who carried his helmet under his left arm, lightly grasping his lips while wearing a modest smile. Whether it was sarcasm or a joke, either way, Dorothy seemed to appreciate his light banter.
"In this garden, we cultivate various edible organisms, including 93 species of trees and 13 species of livestock."
"Sugar maple... boiling down the sap to make maple syrup..."
"You're well aware. That's correct."
"I noticed olives earlier, but... I didn't expect such a large garden."
"Surprised?"
Asked from a position about a head lower, Moore nodded sincerely in affirmation.
"Eden is a base built in the middle of wasteland, but through advanced genetic technology and cultivation methods, we've recreated the pre-Rapture nature."
"Genetic technology..."
As the thought of some form of manipulation being artificially applied crossed his mind, the headache resonated briefly in the depths of his skull once again.
"...Is something wrong?"
"...No, it's nothing. Seems like fatigue is building up."
Furrowing his brow and sensing that the vertical wrinkles on his forehead had increased, Dorothy asked with concern, but he gave a resolute response.
She then quickened her pace and, by the side of the footpath, plucked a well-branched one with golden apples.
Holding the glossy apple in both hands, she returned to him and offered it.
"You might feel a bit refreshed after savoring this. Please have it."
Probably not a fruit naturally produced by nature. It was artificially improved.
She mentioned that she recreated nature, but—it was an imitation that closely approached reproduction.
No. That's not it.
After all, with selective breeding, mankind had spent thousands of years on crossbreeding trees and animals, changing their original forms and natures due to arbitrary reasons and convenience. It's an ancient story. What's real and what's fake—by now, no one could distinguish.
Taking the apple in one hand, he brought it towards his mouth.
He bit into the skin, making a crisp sound as he chewed.
"How is it? Does it suit your taste?"
As if probing for something, Dorothy looked up at him with lingering unease.
The crunchy and satisfying sound of chewing echoed. Taking another bite—soon, his Adam's apple moved, and the moistened, somewhat dry lips parted.
"I feel like I might become immortal."
At that moment, Dorothy opened her eyes wide, fully surprised.
クリエイターの想い 
NikkeSimp
NikkeSimp Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
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