コン コン…木の鐘が響く場所は僕の部屋の隣から鳴っていた。
一人暮らしで余生を過ごすには少しばかり広く、随分と持て余していた家での出来事だった。

しかし何故ノックが玄関ではなく隣の書斎から聴こえてくるのだろうか、読書が趣味であった妻が他界してから二年と半年は経ったはずだ、空き巣にしては律儀すぎる。
静かではあるものの確かに感じる違和感に心を掻かれた。

恐る恐る開けまいかどうかで気持ちの整理をしていたのも束の間、体を曲げた老体の軋む骨の音と変わらないドアの音と共に光が差し込む。
驚いた…この驚いたには二つの意味が籠っている。
一つは僕がドアノブに手をかける前に開いた事、そしてもう一つは扉の向こうに歳幼く見える人形の様な少女がこちらに子猫の様な眼差しを向けていた事である。

「お返事を頂けなかったので開けちゃいました、こんにちは ご尊老」
少女は僕の心情など意に介さず小さな声色で語りかける、一瞬呆気に取られて言葉が出なかったが、彼女の纏う佇まいにすぐさま自分の置かれてる状況が先程感じた違和感と照らし合わされた。

あの少女が魂を間引きに来たのだろう、愛した妻をあやめた者に対する復讐心を少しでも抱いてしまっていた贖罪だ、きっとそうに違いない。
事実、大きく湾曲した鋭利な"得物"が確かに煌めいており、嫌でも視界を彩るそれが確信を抱かせる。
顔の溝に脂汗が這う中、懺悔が滴り落ちる前に聞いておきたかった、しわがれた声で振り絞る。
「最後に一つ教えてくれないか、美しき天使よ…僕の妻は苦しまずに最期を迎えられたのだろうか…？」

少女の口元が次第に三日月を模った。

「虚構にしては質が悪いよ、自分で家族全員を手に掛けていてよく笑顔でそんなこと言えるね」

……………は？……わたしが？ 笑顔？

「それが貴方の罪だよ」

鏡の割れる音が虚しく鳴り渡る。

―吟遊詩人と名乗った者、シャーデン・マティア・メルゼブルクからの御噺―

knock knock... The wooden sound is echoing from the room next to mine.
It happened in a house that was a little too spacious and useless for a single person to spend the rest of their lives in.

But why was the knock coming from the study room next door and not from the front door? It had been two and a half years since my wife, whose hobby was reading, had passed away, so this is too polite for a burglar.
It's quiet, but the sense of unease is real and it's stirring my heart.

As I was trying to sort out whether or not to open it cautiously, light poured in, accompanied by the sound of a door opening that sound like creaking bones of an old body trying to bend.
I was surprised... But this surprise had two meanings.
The first was that the door opened before I had even put my hand on the knob, and the second was that on the other side of the door was a young-looking doll-like girl looking at me like a kitten.

"I didn't get a reply so I opened it. Hello, my esteemed one." The girl spoke in a soft voice without any regard for my feelings. For a moment I was stunned and speechless, but her demeanor immediately made me realize that the situation I found myself in feels the same with the discomfort I had felt earlier.

The girl had come to take my soul, as an atonement for the slightest bit feeling of revenge I had harboured against the person who had killed my beloved wife. Surely that's what she's doing.
In fact, the sharp, curved "weapon" was indeed shining brightly, filling my field of vision with a sense of certainty.
As greasy sweat trickled down my face, before the confession starts pouring from my mouth, I forced out words in a hoarse voice asking for an answer.
"Could you please tell me one last thing, beautiful angel? Did my wife meet her end without suffering?"

The girl's mouth gradually took on a crescent moon shape.

"What a poor fiction, you killed your whole family with your own hands and yet you can still say that with a smile, huh."

...Huh? Me? Smiling?

"That is your sin."

The sound of a mirror breaking echoes hollowly throughout the room.

--A story from the man who calls himself a minstrel, Schaden Matthias Merseburg--