WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 190

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Who Am I? (6)

Merlin’s rain was not natural. The magic downpour came not with dark clouds. Rather, the bizarre phenomenon poured down thick raindrops from a clear sky.

Even so, the moment the rain started to fall, something even more bizarre occurred: dark clouds filled the sky.

Rather than forming and then the rain falling, it was the opposite and was not something Merlin had orchestrated—it was simply how the world began to move.

The chatter filling the streets, the merchant selling bread in the market, the peddlers; the customers haggling with them… all of them disappeared in a single moment. The door to the once wide-open shop closed without a sound.

The street fell silent.

‘On rainy days, people disappear from the streets, the bells do not ring, and Ladon does not appear.’

That was the rule Najin had discovered. He didn't know why such a rule was created and could only guess during a rainy day after Ladon never showed and it became deeply imprinted on Viola Oldina’s memory.

Najin took advantage of that rule in reverse. Artificially creating the prerequisite condition of ‘a rainy day,’ he guessed the outcome would follow. After all, it was not reality but a dream, so the world could change depending on how the dreamer felt.

“How about it? Do I look a bit impressive now?” Merlin, sweeping her rain-soaked hair back, gave a confident smile. 

Najin let out a small laugh and nodded. “Of course. And what do you mean ‘now’? You’ve always been amazing, Merlin.”

Merlin’s shoulders trembled. Standing there, she murmured, “Always…?” and gave a strangely dark chuckle. 

Najin half-slipped out of his coat, holding it aloft like an umbrella as he gestured for her to get closer. “Let’s go.”

“Huh? O-okay!”

The two of them ran through the downpour, using the coat as an umbrella. The rain roared, but it could not drown out the other sounds echoing through the streets.

‘When it rains, Ladon does not appear.’ And on days when Ladon didn't not show up… ‘She plays the piano at an old tavern.’

Before the dream could revert to its starting point, that had been a coincidence. But not this time.

Clunk.

They opened the door of the old tavern and stepped inside. There sat a woman at a piano. Rather than her hair being uniform, half of it was white, and the other half was black.

She finished her piece, seeming to not care about Najin and Merlin, and only after hearing applause did she turn her head.

“Oh? I didn’t realize we had customers?”

She made the same proposal: Would they be willing to listen until the rain stopped?

“Well, listening is nice, but… how about we perform together, while we’re at it?” Najin stepped forward. Various instruments lay scattered about the old tavern. 

He picked one up and brushed off the dust.

Back when they had listened to her performance, Merlin had asked, “That’s Leconte’s Concerto No.7, right? Isn’t that a concerto?”

Najin didn’t know much about music, but he did know one could not perform a concerto alone.

Why was “Violet” there playing a concerto alone? Why not a solo piece, something she could complete on her own? Najin only managed to resolve that question after returning to the dream’s starting point.

“She… I mean, the one who was once my older sister. She loved playing the piano. She especially loved concertos. She played with our mother when she was young.”

Mirenz, Viola Oldina’s younger sister, had spent her childhood with Viola before Viola was adopted into the Oldina family. Unlike the ageless Viola, Mirenz aged into an old woman. 

Najin had visited her and heard stories about Viola.

“Our mother played the cello. I remember how she pinned up her black hair. My sister used to key away at the piano, and I would play the violin.”

“I remember it. It was an old tavern. There was a piano inside. My sister loved that place. Whenever she played, she smiled so brightly.”

“Now, we dare not recall such things. She’s no longer my sister but a hero who sustains this kingdom.”

The instrument Najin picked up was a violin.

“Would you like me to play for you?”

“Well, it’s been so long that I’m not sure I can. My fingers aren’t what they once were. What good would come of listening to an old woman’s performance?”

“But if you really insist…”

Grudgingly, the old woman played her violin.

Najin watched carefully. He then sought out a few other violinists, watching how they played—the way they held the violin, the movement of the bow, their angles and breathing, the methods of vibrating the strings, and so on.

He saw it all. Having seen it, imitation was not difficult.

He lifted the violin to his shoulder and moved his bow. At first, and even on the second attempt, it sounded clumsy, but he quickly got a feel for it and soon began playing with skill.

He gave Merlin a look.

She dusted off a cello, positioned herself, and raised her bow. She was even more awkward than Najin, who was trying the violin for the first time that day. 

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sight. “What’s this? You said you knew how to play an instrument. Didn’t you say you were good at cello?”

“Th-that was over a thousand years ago!” Merlin screeched, but she gradually adjusted her notes. She must not have been lying about knowing how to play, and her memories returned bit by bit.

Meanwhile, Violet stared blankly at Najin and Merlin, silently listening to the sounds they created.

Leconte’s Concerto No.7 was the piece she had once performed with her mother and sister, and it was also the piece she was about to play then. 

Her eyes trembled for a moment, then she briefly exhaled and set her fingers on the piano keys.

Using the sounds Najin and Merlin laid out for her as a stairway, she began her performance.

The piano, violin, and cello all played their own music in a clumsy performance—more three separate solos than a harmony. Still, since it was all together, it could barely be called a concerto.

“Phew. Merlin…” Najin shot her a look.

“Hey, you’re the weird one. How can you play like that after just watching once?! G-give me some time, I’ll improve!” Merlin shouted back. 

Violet, watching them squabble, finally lost it and burst into laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand, bowed her head, and shook with mirth until she could no longer contain it.

“Ahaha!” Gone was her usually gloomy expression, and so too was the faintly bitter smile she sometimes showed. Rather, her laugh was light and comfortable, one that made those who heard it feel at ease.

Najin and Merlin shrugged and picked up their instruments again.

“I’m Najin, and this here is Merlin.” Najin asked her, “What’s your name?”

“Violet. I’m Violet.” Violet smiled. “You two… could you join me in my performance? While it’s raining… Actually, I don’t think one day would be enough.”

It was a different proposal from last time. She extended her hand to Najin and Merlin. “Would you come find me here whenever it rains?”

Najin took the hand she offered. It was not visible at a glance, but he knew the moment he touched it that her fingers were covered in wounds and calluses, and they were not the sort that came from playing piano—they were the kind of scars you’d get from wielding a sword.

She was a Transcendent whose body would normally not scar, so for them to remain, she must have repeated the motions until they became permanent. 

Up close, he finally saw the truth.

‘Not only her fingers.’

He could see beyond the veil of starlight she had draped over herself and witnessed Transcendent’s body, shredded with wounds, not a sound patch of flesh remaining. Hers was the form of a constellation who had been worn down again and again for sixty-seven years. 

Najin was briefly silent. Then, he gave her a short reply. “All right.”

It wasn’t a difficult request.

Had Merlin been in her true body, she could have made it rain all day long, 365 days a year, but that Merlin was roughly on the same level as Najin.

Making it rain every single day was impossible. The best she could do was once a week. Moreover, in the Kassel Kingdom, it naturally rained about once a week as well.

Hence, two days of rest emerged out of the seven.

Najin dedicated those two days entirely to Violet. On rainy days, Violet would sit at the piano chair waiting for Najin and Merlin, and whenever he pushed open the door and stepped inside, she greeted him with a bright smile.

“Welcome, Najin!”

A pile of instruction books and sheet music, clearly gathered from somewhere, was stacked in one corner of the tavern, and a freshly cleaned chair waited so that Najin and Merlin could sit comfortably.

“You see, here it’s better to press your bow like this. Yes, like that. If it were a solo piece, you could play as you did, but this is a concerto, right? In that case, you should slightly lower your pitch…”

She gave Najin advice, and whenever he accepted it, she clapped in delight. “Yes, that’s it!” 

Sometimes? Najin felt a sense of disconnect, watching her so openly display emotion.

Was she originally such an expressive person?

It seemed almost impossible that she was the same individual as the “Viola” who always wore a somber face at the grand temple. ‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘this personality was closer to her true nature.’

“You know…” On a day when it was not raining, while walking down the street, Merlin asked a question. “Is this really going to be enough?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re not doing anything complicated. Sure, summoning rain is pretty tough, but… all we’re really doing is playing along with her whenever it rains.”

“Right.”

“Do you think that alone will change anything?”

“Yes,” Najin answered. “It definitely will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because that’s exactly how it worked for me.” He shrugged as he looked at Merlin. “Did you know? You don’t need some grand, lofty ambition to get through tomorrow or to endure the day.”

He continued, “When I lived in the underground city… man, life there was awful, right? I was a collector, so I dealt with some real scum of the earth.”

Scum of humanity; streets littered with trash in a city where there was no guarantee of tomorrow, where people could become as cruel as needed just to survive.

“For six days of the week, life was so damned hard. I wanted to quit a hundred times over, wanted everything to just go to hell. Ironically, it was the smallest things that kept me going.”

“What sorts of things?”

“On the weekend, Ivan always took me to a tavern. We’d drink, and he’d tell me about what happened topside. He’d brag about this or that, talk about his experiences.”

Najin let out a faint laugh. “That was so much fun. Just listening to his stories melted away some of the awfulness from those six days. Eventually, I found myself holding on, just waiting for that day to come.”

No matter how miserable things got, no matter how hard it was, you could endure if you had one day to look forward to. A little thing—sharing a conversation over drinks—gave Najin the strength to persevere.

“A grand ambition or a noble ideal can carry you into the far future… but for surviving just one more day, a small, simple joy can be enough.”

“That’s all there is to it,” Najin said, exhaling deeply. “As for this constellation, Viola Oldina… I think I understand why she changed so drastically.”

Other constellations might've found Viola Oldina’s transformation foolish. Compared to the countless heroes recorded in history, her reasons for unraveling might've seemed trivial.

Then again, there were those who had endured while wearing a helmet for a hundred and fifty years, a silent knight who only sought to press onward, and a star of holy fire bound by duty for ages.

Viola’s life may have indeed been more peaceful than theirs, yet Najin had no intention of belittling it as insignificant.

‘She’s simply a different sort of person.’

Not everyone in the world could be a hero. Not everyone could live with unwavering resolve. Most people compromised, yielded, and sometimes deceived themselves just to go on living; Viola Oldina was no different. She did not want to be a hero; she never considered herself one, but the kingdom forced her to be, and she took no pride in any of it.

“So she detached herself from it.”

“Detached?”

“She separated the ‘hero Viola Oldina’ everyone else wanted from the ‘Violet’ she considered her real self.”

‘I’m not that hero, Viola Oldina. I’m Violet, the performer.’ For her, Viola Oldina was nothing but an empty shell. She found all the fulfillment she needed in being the modest pianist who played at an old tavern on rainy days.

“That’s why, when she could no longer perform…”

Worn down and eroded by endless battles with Ladon, her fingers rotted away until she could no longer strike the keys, which meant she could no longer maintain “Violet,” her true identity, and so her only remaining refuge was taken from her.

“She was hollowed out.”

While investigating Viola Oldina, Najin discovered Viola Oldina was not her real name. The Oldina family, recognizing her talent, had adopted her and given her that name. The name ‘Viola’ meant nothing to her.

To her, the name was effectively nonexistent. Removing “Viola,” all that remained was the family name: Oldina.

“Glory to Oldina.”

“Honor to Oldina.”

Oldina was a prestigious house that had existed since the founding of the Kassel Kingdom, renowned for producing countless knights and heroes. From the beginning, anyone bearing the name would be a knight or a hero.

For her, the name symbolized her forced herohood, but the longer she fought Ladon, the more she wore away. Finally, she completely lost herself.

Remove the “I” from Oldina and you’re left with Oldna.

A person who loses their self collapses. The moment she lost the center of her being, everything fell apart. Ordinarily, she would have gone mad or become a Forgotten One… but she was deprived even of that.

Ladon filled her hollowed shell and rearranged the letters of her name.

With Oldna, from which the “I” was removed, he formed his own name—that was the truth behind the dream.

“In that case, the solution is simple.” Najin came to a stop. “Just give more weight to the Violet side than the Oldina side. Help her sustain her real identity. Tip that lopsided scale back, or tilt it so completely that…”

Just then, the bell rang. Cracks spread across the sky, windows shattered, and Ladon appeared. Pointing at the dragon, Najin continued, “He’ll weaken on his own.”

The Ladon that burst through the sky was noticeably smaller than when Najin had first seen him.

Editor Note: ‘Ordina’ was clarified as ‘Oldina’ and changed to match.