Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 160

Chapter 160

“It does.”

Medeus answered readily, even with a surly expression. Lowering his eyes, Nataek asked cautiously.

“Did you perhaps refuse to give an answer on purpose that day?”

“…Why does that suddenly matter?”

Medeus slowly lowered his hand. Nataek’s hand sank down with it. This time Medeus played with Nataek’s hand under the water.

“Uh… because I didn’t get a proper answer then?”

Strictly speaking, he hadn’t even managed a proper question, but he didn’t go that far. Medeus glanced at him, then dropped his gaze back into the water.

“…I dislike it when you leave room.”

So he withheld the answer on purpose, is that it?

Nataek’s eyes narrowed. The more he turned the phrase over, the stranger it sounded. Room?

“What do you mean, ‘leave room’?”

A subtle pressure came from their joined hands. Medeus’s tightly pressed lips whitened.

“You always leave room for me.”

Medeus slowly lifted his gaze to meet Nataek’s.

“It feels like… in your plans, you keep a future where you leave me.”

“…”

The sudden reveal of his inner thoughts struck Nataek dumb. Seeing the flicker of discomposure on Nataek’s face, Medeus caught on quickly—his supposition was right. His eyes drooped lower.

“You promise to stay by me always, say we’ll be together… and then… you leave open the possibility that I won’t be in your future.”

“Th—”

He had dimly guessed Medeus had noticed, but thought it would only have been since they became lovers—not that he would have sensed it from so far back.

Startled, Nataek bit his lip hard. He didn’t realize the gesture, but that small act sent a big ripple through Medeus’s chest. Medeus drew close; the tiny movement set ripples across the bath’s surface.

“I’ve never imagined a future without you.”

Nataek quietly watched the man gripping his hand tight. He tried to act calm, but his heart thudded like a child caught doing wrong. With his thumb, Medeus slowly stroked the back of his hand.

“Next year I want to travel far with you. I want to show you more beautiful things.”

“…”

“So you don’t grow tired, I’ll change our bedroom every year. If you want, every twenty days. I’ll plant trees in the garden of the house we live in—ones that grow the fruit you like.”

Medeus’s fingers threaded deep between Nataek’s.

“When a white hair begins to appear each day, I’ll brew rama blossoms for you. If you dislike the bitterness, I’ll add sweet grape must.”

In Medeus’s future, Nataek was always there.

“Children… If you want, we can find one. There are many here who need a family. Among them, there will be one who suits your heart.”

Now he gripped Nataek’s hands with both of his, clutching them like a lone lifeline.

“Teresi. So… stay with me. I’ll do my best so you never regret a single day with me. Don’t imagine time without me.”

Nataek’s heart surged. The gaze on him felt heavier than ever; he could not possibly turn away from Medeus’s overflowing earnestness.

He lifted his hands from the water and pulled Medeus into a deep embrace. He kissed his shoulder and pressed his cheek to the white ear.

“…Yes. Understood.”

While his body swung swords, rolled on floors, and conquered broad lands, his heart was conquered by Medeus—submerged in the outpouring of affection. Otherwise, how could just seeing that expression hurt so much.

“I’ll do as you say, so… please don’t make that face.”

With escape from the ancient world at hand, the balance in Nataek’s heart began to tilt. The longing to escape and curiosity about the hidden skill blurred, while the desire for Medeus’s future grew by the day. Embracing Medeus’s earnestness, the seesaw tipped helplessly.

He re‑imagined the small wish he had kept—waking to sunlight with someone held in his arms.

He pictured the irises he would meet when he lowered his gaze—pale gray—and an indescribable contentment rose. He imagined a year, two years, decades together; just conjuring the vision of standing side by side with white‑haired Medeus made his chest swell.

“They said… because something precious was here, they couldn’t leave it behind.”

His thoughts kept circling back to Medeus’s mother.

In the end… will I make a choice like your mother’s?

Steam billowed, whitening the bathhouse from all sides. Watching it, Nataek fell into thought. Someday, a day might come when Medeus’s heart evaporated like that steam. Then today’s earnestness would turn to vapor, and the heart would lose its weight.

By then, perhaps they could part naturally, without pain. Then today’s visions would turn to fantasies, and they would be two people who savored memories rather than a future.

“Teresi…”

Until this bond can reach its end without hurt—until then… should escape from the ancient world be set aside…

Nataek’s dream of resting a while in Uruk’s domain shattered to pieces. When he returned to Kish city, he wore a ragged expression and was drenched in fatigue.

The Soothsayer, quietly taking in his state, asked carefully,

“What’s with your lips. Did something bite them?”

“…No. I bumped them.”

“How do you bump your lips to swell like that.”

Quick‑witted or slow, who knew—yet he showed interest only in such things. Nataek frowned and replied,

“Rolled around the market.”

“Tsk, tsk. Be careful. You’ve a subtly sloppy side.”

At that, Nataek shot him a sidelong glare. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject.

“Still, with a victory feast we could make plenty of good food, and the soldiers could get some nutrition—why did you refuse?”

He seemed secretly disappointed that the victory banquet had been canceled. Samuagon had warmly welcomed the return of Nataek and Medeus, who had brought glory to Kish. Unaware of the importance of the waterworks, he was more eager to hold a grand feast than to push some seemingly useless project. It had been Nataek who stopped it.

“The Hittites could invade at any time. If we hold a feast, everyone will eat and make merry for days and the soldiers’ tension will slack.”

Even though Nataek wasn’t walking fast, the Soothsayer kept falling behind, catching up, and falling back. Trotting two steps to close the gap, he asked,

“Then when will the Hittites attack? Can’t we strike first?”

“Likely not.”

Nataek answered in a heavy tone, looking around. Outside the north wall of Kish, the canal works were in full swing.

“They say stopping the Hittite invasion is the true ending. And if we set out from here, we can’t avoid close‑quarters battle with them—our weapons don’t compare.”

Sununki is a game with shoddy “historical accuracy.” Even so, it cranked the real shift from bronze to iron to an extreme. In melee, Kish with bronze had no chance.

“That’s true… right.”

Nataek stopped. Before him lay a completed artificial mire. He crouched and tapped the mud.

“That’s why we’re doing this… What do you think? Will this work?”

“It has to. I used the hidden skill ten more times for this! We can’t fail with escape in reach. I’ve staked everything on this!”

Over the mud lay nets woven of reed stalks. The Soothsayer crouched beside Nataek with a grin.

“We’ll scatter leaves on top to deceive the eye.”

He had built the striped‑formation artificial mire exactly to Nataek’s design—like lanes of a pool, alternating straight bands of firm ground and bog, traps laid in stripes.

“Whether infantry or chariots—if the Hittites pass here, they’ll sink into this mud pit! Then advancing gets hard.”

After that, archers stationed on walls and bastions and infantry arranged in a semicircle would surround them. The operation two modern men had wrung their minds for was the so‑called “drop the rats in the jar” plan. If it went to plan, victory would come easy. But…

“Who knows if it will go as planned.”

Nataek sighed lightly and stood. The Soothsayer stood with him.

“It will. It absolutely will!”

Letting his resolve pass in one ear, Nataek turned to the right. There, Medeus was speaking with sub‑commanders. Nataek stared, dazed, at him. The Soothsayer’s eager face gradually went vague. He swept Nataek with a suspicious eye.

“What’s with your face?”

“…Huh?”

Nataek reacted a beat late. He started at the face suddenly right up to his, and jerked back.

“Hey—don’t crowd me like that. You scared me.”

“Your face was one big gloom—so I was observing why. What is it. Some problem? Something wrong somewhere?”

One of Nataek’s eyes pinched.

“No.”

Too well done—that’s the problem.

Knowing the true ending was close weighed gently on his chest. After studying Nataek’s face a while, the Soothsayer suddenly asked again,

“What. Aren’t you happy?”

Nataek looked down at him with a listless gaze.

“We can go home soon! Once we beat the Hittites, we can really go home! Not mud‑brick houses—the real home in the modern day! Aren’t you happy?!”

“…Happy. I am.”

He should be. But his chest felt tight, like an undigested lump; his solar plexus felt blocked. He turned again and stared a long while at Medeus’s back.

He laid a hand over his left breast and rubbed the clogged place endlessly.

Finishing his talk, Medeus started toward him—with a poor expression.

“Teresi.”

The pale gray eyes read Nataek’s face, then glared at the Soothsayer hovering in front of him. Startled, the Soothsayer ducked behind Nataek. Medeus’s face twisted further.

Footnotes:

 

1. Reed‑net mire – an anti‑chariot/infantry trap exploiting terrain engineering: alternating firm and bog “lanes” to break formation and mobility.