WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 188

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Who Am I? (4)

The woman resembled a piano. Within her snow-white hair, strands of black stood out, and her black-painted nails stood out over the pale-white skin of her fingers. Composed of black and white—like the keys of a piano—she looked at Najin and introduced herself.

As if a performer to the audience, she introduced herself. “My name is Violet. How did you enjoy my performance, unfamiliar guests?”

Her eyes gleamed as she anticipated what he might say about her performance.

For Najin, it felt like quite the burden. “I don’t know much about music.”

“That’s perfectly fine! You don’t need to be knowledgeable to enjoy it. I just want to hear how you felt, not the review of a critic”

“In that case…” Najin recalled the performance and expressed exactly how it made him feel. “It was intense. At first, I thought the rain would interfere with the performance, but it didn’t. It even felt like the rain became part of the music…” Stammering a bit, he shared his thoughts. 

Violet nodded along, listening attentively. 

“I can’t describe it well, but I liked it. I almost applauded without thinking.”

“That’s the greatest compliment a performer can receive. Not all might feel the same, but personally, when someone claps for me, I feel alive.” Violet smiled. “By the way, dear guest… do you have any other plans for today?”

“No, not really.”

“In that case, could I have you?”

When Najin tilted his head in puzzlement, she added, “I’d love for you to listen to a bit more of my music. I’d also love to hear your impressions, as you just did. If the entire day is too much… could you at least stay until the rain stops?”

Najin glanced out the window. The sudden downpour had come out of nowhere. At least listening to her until it stopped didn’t seem like a difficult request. “Sure, let’s do that.”

Violet’s face visibly brightened. She sat back down and placed her fingers on the keys. Her eyes closed, she felt her way across the keys, and then, almost humming, she began to play.

In that abandoned old tavern, covered in dust and left behind, a pure, beautiful melody resounded.

“Hey, why’d you rush off like that…?” Merlin, entering belatedly after following Najin, alternated glances between him and Violet before closing her mouth. Quietly, she perched beside him and listened to the performance.

Though she was usually talkative, she understood when it was time to keep silent. During the perfomrance, Merlin kept her mouth shut, as if to show respect for the performer.

After the performance ended…

Merlin stood up and applauded, genuinely impressed and not just being polite. “That was Lerconte’s Concerto No. 7, right?”

Violet’s eyes widened, surprised anyone recognized the piece.

“You even tweaked a few parts, like a variation, right? I can’t believe someone’s still around who can play this piece. Including your changes, it was incredible!”

Najin was equally astonished.

Noticing the look in Najin’s eyes, Merlin shrugged and lifted her chin. “What’s with that look? I’m a cultured woman, you know. Classical music is the height of culture. I can play a few instruments myself.”

“That’s honestly unexpected.”

“What do you take me for?”

He took her for a slightly dubious grand wizard, but since that monologue wouldn’t reach her ears, it remained safely in his own head.

“Is there more? Anything else? I haven’t heard such music in ages, and I really enjoyed it.”

“Of course there is. This time…” Violet continued performing. She said she would play until the rain stopped, yet the rain showed no sign of letting up. What was supposed to be a brief shower continued on into the late night.

Likewise, what was supposed to be a short recital carried on without pause.

The sound of rain, the sound of a piano, and silence… That day, no bell rang, Ladon did not appear, and Viola Oldina did not set out. No windows shattered, and no applause echoed over the city.

All they heard was the sound of a piano echoing through the abandoned tavern.

And so the days went.

Whenever the sun rose bright and clear, Ladon inevitably appeared, Viola again trapped him behind the glass window, and the streets were filled with shouts of praise.

On sunny days, if Najin went to the abandoned tavern, Violet was nowhere to be found. Instead, the piano sat by itself in forlorn silence.

On rainy days, though…

Shwaa—aaah.

When raindrops pelted down, the piano’s notes rose among them. If they went to the tavern, Violet would invariably be there at the keys.

“Welcome, unfamiliar guests!” As though she had been waiting for Najin and Merlin, she even had chairs pulled up next to the piano. Her request was the same as before: listen to her performance until the rain stopped and share their impressions afterward.

Merlin, accurately recognizing each piece, offered a detailed review, and Najin, knowing nothing about music, shared pure and honest feelings. 

Listening to both perspectives, Violet smiled in contentment. Truly, she seemed satisfied. At some point, Violet began to offer more than just her music—she started to talk.

“Heroes… they’re portrayed so beautifully in fairy tales, but… sometimes… I wonder.” Speaking as if talking to herself, she murmured, “Could it be that all heroes are actually mentally ill?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Think about it. Fairytale heroes risk their lives when they fight. Not even for themselves, but for others. They bleed and suffer for complete strangers—people they’ve never even met, let alone shared a single conversation with.”

Violet smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smile. “Does that make any sense? Fighting is painful. Bleeding hurts. I can’t wrap my head around enduring such pain purely for someone else’s sake. I can’t really empathize, either. I don’t get why they do it.”

Still, she continued, “Heroes keep fighting. Why? Probably because, the moment they start being called heroes, they’re saddled with an obligation, whether they like it or not.”

“An obligation?”

“Yes, an obligation. That’s what a hero does. They willingly bleed for the greater good because it’s the right thing. At some point, that sense of goodwill gets turned into a duty, and what was once received as an act of kindness becomes something people feel entitled to.”

Thunk.

Her finger pressed down a low key, producing a heavy note. “Goodwill can’t last forever. Even if you save someone with the best intentions, it might’ve been just one time. How can anyone keep doing that endlessly? Heroes should still be allowed lives of their own. They weren’t born ‘heroes’ in the first place.”

Nonetheless… “That goodwill becomes a duty. Once something is a duty, you can’t just walk away from it. Once a hero, always a hero. Isn’t that the perfect recipe for driving someone insane?”

A bitter smile flickered at the corners of Violet’s lips. “Until their body is worn down to nothing.” She looked at her own fingers. “Until they can no longer move.”

Her fingers had turned black and trembled uncontrollably, ignoring her will. “Endlessly, endlessly, endlessly…” Hiding her rotting fingers that could no longer press the keys, Violet turned to Najin. “Which is why…”

Her hair was no longer white. At some point, it was completely dyed in black. Her eyes no longer gleamed. Instead of a natural smile, a forced grin hovered at her lips.

With a grim expression, Violet—no, Viola Oldina spoke. “Heroes are madmen.”

She slowly rose. The rain, which had seemed like it would fall deep into the night, ceased the moment she moved, the sky cleared as though it had never rained; as if on cue, bells began to chime across the streets.

“Heroes do not have a self,” Viola Oldina muttered, expressionless. “A hero separates themselves from themselves, living only for others.”

With that, Viola stepped outside. The bell rang, glass shattered, Ladon appeared, and Viola Oldina departed for battle.

As always, Viola vanished with Ladon, only returning to the city half a day later. When she reappeared, cheers erupted—shouts, praise, salutes, and countless rounds of applause filled the streets.

As always…

“Ah.” She didn’t just brush past the clamor on her way to the temple. That time, she stopped and approached a citizen who had been praising her and stood before him.

Startled at seeing the kingdom’s hero so close, the citizen froze. 

Viola tilted her head toward him. “Who am I?”

“Pardon…?”

“I asked you… Who am I?”

“Aren’t you V-Viola Oldina…? The glorious hero of the Kassel Kingdom…”

Clang.

The citizen’s head shattered like glass. Splat—blood splattered everywhere. The eyes of the nearby onlookers wavered, yet they neither screamed nor fled.

Such was the oppressive aura a Transcendent exuded.

“You…” Viola Oldina turned her head toward another middle-aged bystander, covered in blood from the man’s burst head. She posed the same question, “Who am I?”

The man answered, “You are Viola Oldina.”

As glass would shatter, so did the middle-aged man’s head. It happened multiple times. Eventually, the knights intervened, but no one could stop a Transcendent. They, too, were asked the same question and met the same fate, their heads exploding one by one.

“I am…” Viola glanced down at her own blackened fingers with empty eyes. “I…” She let out a laugh. “I, me, am I? Ah, me. I am…”

Her eyes spun wildly until they finally stopped on an old woman. The moment Viola saw her, her eyes went wide. She seemed to recognize the old woman. Hastily, Viola ran over, grabbed the woman by the shoulders, and asked, “My little sister, my lovely little sister… You know, don’t you? You know my real name. Mother’s name was Olivier—yours and mine. Right, I remember your name! You’re Mirentz.”

Gripping the old woman’s shoulders, Viola shook her forcefully. “So then, what’s my name? Could you tell me my name? Maybe you don’t remember, but I’ll help you. Please, just say my name. The name of the sister who loved the piano. The sister who dreamed of being a performer…”

She pleaded with the old woman she called her sister: “Tell me my name. Please, I’m begging you, Mirentz…”

The old woman, called “sister” by Viola, could not answer. Terrified, her eyes quivering, she could only say, “You are Viola Oldina.”

Viola’s expression went rigid. While everyone else’s heads had been shattered in a single blow, that kind of mercy was not granted to the old woman. Piece by piece, starting from her fingertips, the old woman was torn apart.

“Ah, ahahaha, ahahahah!” Between the old woman’s screams, Oldina laughed. That laughter abruptly cut off with no sound at all.

“I…” Viola’s lips opened and closed repeatedly. “Who am I?”

Who am I?

The Star of Detachment, Viola Oldina—the constellation with the power to detach herself from the world had ultimately detached herself from her own being.

Dong, doooong, dong…

A bell rang, yet the sky did not shatter. Even if you looked up, Ladon was nowhere to be seen. What had shattered was Viola Oldina herself.

Around her, as though a pane of glass were cracking, space splintered into shards.

“Ah, ha!” Viola Oldina laughed.

Evil Dragon Ladon laughed.