Epilogue

"Elin, investigate these people tonight for me. And these, these, and these."

"What the hell are you talking about, Jorgen? Why don't you do it yourself?"

"I don't have time tonight."

"Neither do I. The miller's daughter is waiting for me on the second floor of the inn."

"Damn you. We're short on time, we can't have you wasting it like this."

"If you really want to say that, let's split it up. You investigate these two..."

"No, you take care of them all. I don't have time. If you don't go, I'll tell Marcus Jonason himself what you did to his niece last time. Did you hear that clearly?"

"You...!"

That night, after sending Elin Tias away, Jorgen took a bottle of fine morning dew wine and went to the shore of Menethil Pier. This was their third cooperative mission. According to the old man's arrangement, the two of them may continue to partner for a long time to come.

It had been a full year since the Southshore Town incident.

Jorgen looked up at the moonlight. A familiar warmth spread in his chest, but he couldn't grasp it and it quickly faded away.

He sat cross-legged on the rocky ground by the shore and took a sip of wine. The moonlight shone on the wine, glittering with a cold brilliance. Then he took out a rectangular box from inside his leather armor and placed it in front of him.

He closed his eyes and began to recall many things. On the surface of the water before him, there had once floated a ship. On this ship, which belonged to Dalia, he first met Shelley and grasped her slender wrist. Later, also on the same ship, a ball was held to celebrate Dalia's rescue from the kidnappers. At the ball, he kissed Shelley for the first time, though a bit distracted - he stole a glance at Dean and Dalia huddled together. At that time, he really wished that dance could go on forever. He wasn't very good at dancing, but he could hold Shelley's waist and just spin and spin like that until night fell.

Jorgen opened his eyes. He picked up the rectangular box and opened it.

He had never buried Dean anywhere. Dean's only home was by Dalia's side, but he could not return there. Jorgen thought, leaving you here shouldn't be a problem, right? Dean, my best friend and comrade-in-arms.

He slowly poured the grayish powder in the box onto the sand and rocks. Some of the powder mixed into the sand and disappeared without a trace; some was blown away by the wind and drifted onto the sea. Watching the scene they formed on the green water surface, the pale smoke appeared again in Jorgen's mind. He had thought that perhaps nineteen years ago, when Jalo was dying with his arm cut off in the cave, the smoke he saw gave him hope for survival too?

Jorgen stood up and drank the rest of the wine in one gulp, then turned and left. Behind him, the powder eventually sank completely into the water, just as the smoke gradually extinguished.