After closing the door behind me, I toss my bag across the living room onto the sofa, and turn to the kitchen to grab some beer. 

Oh, you're home? Florence peaks out from the living room in her nightwear. You should really say something when you come home, you know.

Sorry, sorry. I apologize to her intending to be as sincere as possible, though it comes off a little halfhearted when I say the words from my mouth. I'm just not used to living with someone else.

Jeez, it’s been over three months! When are you gonna get used to it? 

Ahaha…

Wait, you're drinking? Aren't you coming home from the bar like always? 

Yeah?

What's the point of drinking there if you drink here, too?

Well, if you put it like that...

After emptying one can, I take three more to the living room and turn the television on. 

It's a historical war drama, one that was on the rise of popularity before the War began 6 years ago. Magic was far less developed back then, but it nevertheless was a key element to the fight scenes featured. Florence comes over and sits next to me on the couch, moving over the bag I tossed onto it earlier.

Despite the outdated tactics, the drama manages to be very entertaining. The current scene being portrayed featured the protagonist in a dire situation, surrounded by an entire fleet of soldiers. The following scene involved the protagonist coming up with ingenious tactics to overcome the large quantity of enemies, and utilizing both luck and instinct in situations that demanded immediate action. It was well choreographed with long exchanges that were quite realistic, even if any punch or kick inevitably came off as fake.

You know people continued to make shows and stuff on television, even during the War? As the action scene ends with the protagonist victorious and the drama transitions to an exposition that neither Florence nor I have much interest in, she initiates conversation.

Yeah. It seems ridiculous to think that people would be fooling around and making things when soldiers would be in life or death situations every day, but it does make sense. It was 6 whole years, after all. The people who weren't in the War had to live their own lives, and of course entertainment is necessary for that. But even with entertainment being made, there weren't any that were made that really related to war. Particularly any like this drama on air right now. One where fun action scenes are the main appeal and where war was just an excuse for interesting battles to happen. 

Florence laughs. I mean, it probably wasn't the right mood for people to create or enjoy that kind of stuff at the time. 

When do you think they'll start making stuff like this again? This drama too was popular before the War, but it dramatically fell in popularity and quickly dropped off production. 

Hm, I'm not sure, but with the way things are now, the extreme peace and all, maybe soon? Though, maybe this drama got canceled because the actors were enlisted, not because it fell in popularity?

Ah, you're probably right.

I'm clever, after all! Florence smiles brightly. Actually, the other day I did hear about a play someone wrote that got famous, and that one I think did have something to do with the war.

Huh, maybe we can watch it together in a theater sometime soon.

Hm… Florence offers a puzzled expression.

What, you don't want to?

I'm not a big fan of tragedies. She answers. After all, I'm so happy right now! She inches closer and kisses me on the cheek. I reciprocate, but on her lips. Ehehe… Florence blushes.

The sound of the drama on television gets more washed out by my head, as my focus turns completely to Florence. She closes her eyes to indicate another kiss, and I grab her arms before doing the same. Yet, when I touch her lips, they're abnormally wet. 

F, Florence?

My hands that are grabbing her arms suddenly feel the identical, wet sensation. I open my eyes, and Florence looks as though she's melting. I inch back a little. Her body looks almost like it's morphing slowly into goo. 

Lieutenant…

Her arms get only wetter, beginning to feel like jelly or goo.

Florence, what is this–

I blink, but when I open my eyes, the distance between us has suddenly disappeared.

Ca… Cas…

I look down to see my arms wrapped around Florence's neck, her face pale and lifeless.

Ah….. ahh…. AhhhhhhHhhhhhhHHHHhhhhhHhhh

 

"Aaaaaahhh!" I wake up on a hard, wooden floor that feels like it's shaking, with my lower half covered by a small white blanket.

"S, Sir, are you alright?" From the front of the carriage, the coachman asks me in a worried and equally surprised tone.

"...yeah… sorry about… that." I take a moment to close my eyes and absorb my surroundings. Right. I'm on a carriage to East Alyona. Calm down. I had apparently fallen asleep. I look to the back of the carriage to see my large white bag in the exact same position as I'd remembered it. 

Good, it looks like no one touched it. I can't believe I fell asleep with a corpse in my bag. It had admittedly been a while since I had last fallen asleep, but it hadn't been too rare for such occasions during the War. No one besides the coachman is here, but still, that was ridiculously careless. 

"Nightmare? Looks like even a hero as yourself have them, huh?" He asks me a question that could, from the wording, be taken as provocation, but the tone and intonation he speaks with is one of great sympathy and care.

"Well…"

"I'm guessing it was about the War?" Apparently it was common for soldiers to have nightmares about the War. Even Aubin had told me before that he does, too. Well, I guess there are many people who got traumatized, so it’s not a surprise.

"...something like that."

"Haha, don't worry. It's not like I'll be spreading rumors or something of you having a bad dream." The man reassurances me, albeit in a way that is unnecessary. 

"Hah, it's fine if you do. Sometimes people treat us as though we're some kind of higher beings, anyway. Maybe it'd put us on a little more of an equal level." Actually, spreading rumors about someone having nightmares? What the hell is this guy even talking about? My impression of the coachman changes to one that is a little dumber.

"Well, you can't really blame anyone for that. You Nugatories practically won the War for this country! You’re the only hope for commoners like us. And besides, the high opinion must be a little flattering at least, no? At least help you pick up some women?" The coachman playfully teases me.

"Haha."

"If I may ask, what're you doing going to East Alyona? I've heard that the nearby forest has been having a large amount of Clyrell Mocks there."

"That's the reason, actually." The idea had come from the commissions that Glynn's wife had shown me near Alyona Academy. Though more than to kill some Mocks, I was going with the purpose of ridding Florence's body. 

"Just you alone? Hah! That’s unbelievable. I guess they don't call you a hero for nothing. Explains that big bag you've got there." He points to the large bag at the back of the carriage, which towers over 2 meters in height. 

Various reasons made the commission a good cover up, and this bag was one of them. Adventurers of high rank often carry large bags of equipment, sometimes of even bigger size than the one I brought. They included countless equipment from weapons to gadgets that were specialized for specific enemies, sometimes in enough numbers for multiple people to utilize. And since adventurers would be dealing with more than just one type of enemy in a regular expedition, the large size of their bags was no surprise. Even with Florence's body inside, the bag had plenty of space to fit other things in so that the outline that showed outside the bag resembled nothing of a human body. 

“Though if you’re trying to go to the forest, I’m afraid I can’t take you all the way there. Past the town’s too dangerous for just old me and my cart.”

“That’s okay, you can let me off at town. I’ll be back in… 5 hours, or so.” I think three would be enough, but I’m not sure what kind of trouble I’ll encounter. Best to be safe and come back earlier rather than have someone coming to look for me in the forest and catch me with a body. It wouldn’t hurt to hunt a couple extra mocks, anyway.

"5 hours? It'll be nightfall by then. You don't plan on staying the night in town?"

"No, I've got a regular job at the Capital as a Royal Guard. I can't just be skipping work." After all, I can't attract any attention to myself right now. Even if no one has any suspicions in this moment, people will eventually realize that Florence is missing. And when they do, they'll start looking around for the time that she was last seen. Missing at work the first weekday since could draw even the slightest suspicion, which I want to avoid. "Sorry, is it too unreasonable a request? If so I can look for another–"

"No, not at all. It's an honor, rather."

With oak trees spanning as far as the eye could see, I stop walking with enough confidence that I'm far enough into the forest for no one to be around. It's quiet, eerily so. I haven't seen a single animal on the way here.

Because of the high alert level around this area, the only people who'd be here are for the mock's bounties. Besides the fact that it's the weekend, Clyrell Mocks are infamous for being loud. The primary method for which the mocks are supposedly hunted stands out quite a bit, too. I've just got to bet on those three factors that there's either no one here, and that if there is, I'll be able to spot one in time.

I lay the large bag down, and kneel down to grab the steel zipper and drag it across to reveal the bag's contents. Inside are several random weaponry that I stuffed in, but none of them stood out whatsoever due to the body that by far took up the most space. I put the back of my hand on Florence's cheek. It's cold. I touch her arms and they're noticeably stiffer than when I put her in the bag. Her body also had new cuts all over, caused by the weaponry that rummaged around from the bag shaking and moving around on the carriage.

After taking out Florence's corpse and laying her on the ground, I stand up and look at her. This is the last time I'll see her, I…

I take a deep breath, and reach into my pocket to pull out a thin brown stick. It was about 10 centimeters long, and was much sturdier than it seemed. Glynn's wife had given me a bundle of them and explained the basics of how Clyrell Mocks were hunted.

I snap the stick in half. Almost immediately, from the left broken half, a thin, light-pink smoke begins to rapidly emit and quickly reaches the skies. The resulting scenery resembles smoke signals that I'd seen in War, but the color quickly dissipated, only leaving an extremely sweet odor. 

The stick was apparently a self-made habitat for Lena Flies that become vulnerable to oxygen upon maturity. When dead, they released a large amount of vapor that, although was harmless on its own, emitted a sickeningly sweet odor that would attract large animals that would consume its predatory species, giving the population a surviving chance. 

I drop the stick right next to Florence's body, and fall back behind a couple of trees where I have a full view of the corpse.

Within a few minutes, I can hear a large screeching from the distance that's coupled with what sounds like a strong wind. I look up, and surely enough a Clyrell Mock is approaching. Even from afar, the gargantuan size of the bird is clear. Its torso and wings resemble a crow in color, but the size is incomparable with it towering over five meters. When the mock lands on the ground, the impact of its feet shake the nearby terrain.

Besides being loud, there was one more thing that the Clyrell Mock is infamous for. A characteristic much more memorable, enough for a non-adventurer like me to take notice of it back at the Capital. 

As the creature lays its eyes on the human body laying silently on the ground, it immediately opens its massive beak and clamps onto it. 

They were pure carnivores known for their insatiable appetite, and a preference toward human women.

The massive bird pulls apart Florence’s body, chewing on it like a dog with a raw t-bone on its plate. Florence’s innards begin to flow out of her teared up body, accompanied by blood spewing out from her torn apart limbs. I reflexively turn away and kneel onto the ground. 

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

 

 

The sound of bones cracking and chewing flesh had continued for what felt like an hour. They should just be sounds, nothing different to a loud person in the bar eating without manners, and yet they sound so real. Despite looking at the ground, the imagery I had seen earlier of Florence being ripped apart is ingrained into my mind. Clyrell Mocks consumed everything, done to the bone. It was why I had come here, and yet I felt nothing but disgust in the moment. 

I try to calm myself, forcing myself to consciously breathe in and out in a slow rhythm. I curl my fingers on the ground up and dig my nails into my palms, hoping the sensation of pain will act as some form of distraction. But the sound of bones clashing against the mock’s teeth overwhelms my mind. 

I close my eyes to try and shut everything out. All I can see should just be black, yet the imagery of Florence being violated by the creature remains clear.

Until suddenly, the sound ceases. 

I open my eyes, and I suddenly feel a slightly damp sensation on my fingers. I turn my hand around and slowly lift my fingernails deeply ingrained into my palm, revealing some blood that trickles down it. I rub my hands on each opposite arms to rid of the blood, before finally getting the courage to look back up.

…

There was nothing. Not a bone, not a piece of clothing. All that remained was the beast and a pool of blood on the grass ground. Surely I would be feeling far worse were there to be remains of Florence in front of me, yet I feel a sudden hollowing emptiness in me. 

I thought that maybe I'd made a mistake, not properly seeing her corpse get eaten since I might miss out on a part that the mock misses, but with this… I guess there’s nothing to worry about.

I launch myself forward to a position adjacent to the mock’s left leg, and cut it off. It screeches in pain and quickly flies away, leaving blood droplets in its path. I’d more than happily do so, but I can’t kill that one now. It needs to finish digesting the body. That being said, with it being injured, it made it an easier target for adventurers looking to fulfill the commission. But, if the demand for the commission no longer exists, then there’ll be no reason for an adventurer to bother even looking for mocks to kill. 

In that case, I should probably start and get this over with. And so, with the intent of both relieving stress and finishing my plan, I sheathe my sword and take out a bundle of sticks from my pocket.