Chapter 47
Denmark, a Nordic country at the same high latitude as Russia, experiences a cold winter that occupies most of the year, leaving behind earlier sunsets and longer nights.
However, Denmark is slightly better off than Russia in that it has a temperate maritime climate. This means that even in the coldest winters, Denmark can maintain a certain temperature, unlike the dry and bitter winters of Russia, where the sky always seems to be shrouded in a layer of persistent cold fog.
That being said, given Fyodor's slender build, Ye Yihe felt that even if he went to Africa or South America, he would definitely need to wear this thick, warm coat.
Otherwise, he'll catch a cold in no time.
"Achoo!"
As the soles of his boots trod the cobblestone path, a sudden gust of chilly wind swept through, causing Ye Yihe to sneeze softly and fasten two more buttons on his cloak.
My nose feels a bit stuffy, I'll take a hot shower as soon as I get there...
It was only after meeting Fyodor that he truly understood what frailty meant.
Denmark's territory is not large, but its population density is extremely low, so much so that Yeich walked for a long time along the route pointed out by Fedor and did not see a single person.
Moreover, the houses are far apart, with large patches of grass and shrubs growing in between, but there are almost no obvious signs of activity. Everything seems exceptionally quiet, almost to the point of being gloomy.
This is the town of Christianfield, built during the Schleswig period, and one of the settlements of the Moravian Church, which suffered persecution from Catholicism. You can see that the buildings as a whole exhibit columnar structural elements from the ancient Greek and Roman periods, without any additional ornamentation.
Fyodor explained to Yeyhe, who was currently in control of the body, within the palace of consciousness, [including the Church, which also emphasizes asceticism and penance, believing that overcoming evil thoughts and sincere repentance will lead believers to the future Kingdom of Heaven.]
"Superstition." Ye Yihe summed it up succinctly after listening to the long-winded explanation.
Fyodor let out a soft chuckle in his mind.
"I remember you're religious, that..." Ye Yihe suddenly couldn't recall the term, and hesitated for a moment, "Christianity?"
"[It's Eastern Orthodoxy.]" Fyodor corrected. "[Also known as Greek Orthodoxy. Although religious ceremonies are sometimes conducted in Church Slavic languages, those who consider themselves orthodox ancient churches still choose to use Greek.]"
Ye Yihe: "...Ah."
So that's why he always felt the syllables he heard at church sounded like Russian but weren't quite? Because he could understand both, he couldn't distinguish between the two languages at all.
In other words, Fyodor knows Greek, right...? Hmph, don't expect him to learn any more.
[Please turn left next.]
Following Fyodor's directions, Yeikh turned left at the fork in the road.
This town has a very long history and a small population. Neither trains, subways, nor buses can reach the town. Getting in means that transportation is extremely scarce, and you can only rely on bicycles or walking.
Ye Yihe didn't have a bicycle, so after taking the bus to the stop in front of the town, the only option left was to walk.
Even buying a bicycle to get around in this small town is difficult; so far, Ye Yihe hasn't been able to find a single shop that's open.
...No wonder it's a Nordic country with high welfare benefits.
Apart from large areas of shrubs and weeds, some farmers also scattered some crops along the roadside.
As Ye Yihe was walking, he saw a squirrel squatting by the roadside, munching on an unripe baby carrot, which it had probably dug up from a nearby farmland.
After staring at the squirrel diligently eating for a while, Ye Yihe spoke coolly to Fyodor in the Palace of Consciousness.
"Look, the squirrel is eating your lunch."
I really don't understand these foreigners. They can't believe that a raw carrot can be considered a meal, and that a vegetable salad with a little sauce can be considered nutritious and healthy.
No wonder foreign movies often show picky eaters refusing to eat broccoli; it would be a miracle if it tasted good that way.
Try making a plate of stir-fried broccoli and shrimp and put it in front of the kids, then see if they'll be willing to eat it.
[...]
Fyodor, in his mind's eye, remained silent, but Ye Yihe, who had teased him, was extremely satisfied and almost hummed a song as he walked toward his destination.
The reason he insisted on calling Fyodor in this unfamiliar place, where he didn't even speak the language, and why Fyodor even helped him get there was simple—the sun was coming out.
Denmark's weather is quite similar to that of the UK, with very few sunny days and mostly overcast skies.
Prolonged lack of sunlight can lead to vitamin D deficiency and can also cause depression. As a result, despite being a high-welfare country, Denmark has a high rate of severe social anxiety among its citizens, and a large number of people need to see a psychologist.
Think of our Black brothers in Africa, who are dirt poor, yet they can grin and dance together under the sun.
Ye Yihe doesn't sing or dance, but he still wants to come out and soak up some sun.
He's been forced to come to Denmark for so long, and he's hardly ever seen a sunny day—most of the time it's Fyodor who's using his body, while he can just sit there motionless reading documents for most of the day, completely oblivious to the environment.
Although Ye Yihe felt that he was living a rather casual life, he couldn't stand seeing it that way.
If we organize a group called "Rats in a Dead House," will we really end up living like little mice?
Fyodor was remarkably lenient in this regard, never complaining about his lifestyle being interfered with.
Following his directions, Ye Yihe stopped in front of a small house built of black oak and red bricks. "Is this the place?"
There was no cross on the roof, so he thought he had gone to the wrong place.
[Yes. ]
Fyodor, having closed the book, rose from the chair in the palace of consciousness. [Now, please relinquish control of your body to me.]
…………
Gatekeeper Ryder Vick was also cleaning the church as usual today.
Compared to its glorious period three hundred years ago, it can now be described as utterly decadent, having long since lost its religious function.
On the other hand, it has also been certified as a World Heritage Site, carrying unimaginable historical value.
As a town with equally beautiful scenery, it doesn't receive many tourists each day, but there's always a steady stream of visitors.
His job was to clean, maintain, and explain the artifacts, while also secretly guarding them.
After wiping the altar, he turned around to soak the towel in the basin of water to wash it, when he suddenly noticed someone standing in front of him. "Ouch!"
A strange, dark-haired man, whom the local was certain he had never seen in the vicinity, was almost certainly from out of town.
He looked exceptionally young, even handsome—tall, but by his own standards, he appeared rather thin; his white beanie with ear flaps and cardigan were a slightly odd style of dress, yet strangely suited him perfectly.
But no matter what, Ryder Vick couldn't ignore the strange feeling that was creeping into his heart.
It is winter now, and most of the tourists who come here are wearing warm and lightweight windbreakers or down jackets, and they always wear woolen hats on their heads, wrapping themselves up tightly.
Some of them were carrying huge travel bags, clearly indicating that they were only there for the day and would leave without intending to stay long.
Most tourists greet him with warm smiles and often ask him if they can take pictures with various photography equipment.
The person in front of him... although he was smiling, the subtle smile on his lips made Ryder Vick feel uneasy and uneasy.
Not to mention, his hands were empty, which didn't look like that of a tourist visiting the place.
"Good afternoon," the other person said politely. "The weather is lovely today, don't you think? It feels especially warm."
"Ah...yes, that's right."
Because he was distracted, Ryder Vick even stuttered a little when answering the visitor's greeting, "The sun is finally out. I need to hurry up and clean this place, and then I'll lock up and finish my work."
Even if his job was to look after this small church, he couldn't stay here all day long—he was in a hurry to go fishing in the lake. The sky would soon darken, and with just a little breeze, he could make a hole in the ice and it would be the perfect weather for fishing.
"Fortunately, I arrived in time and won't take up too much of your time."
Hearing the other person's polite manner, Ryder Wick became exceptionally courteous in his speech. "Excuse me, could you tell me where Gottfried Rasmussen's gravestone is?"
The atmosphere inside the church froze for a moment.
"I don't know, there's no such person in the cemetery."
Ryder Vick shook his head nonchalantly, his expression calm.
The church is adjacent to a cemetery, where many extremely devout believers choose to bury their remains after death in order to find their way to heaven.
After three hundred years of weathering wind and snow, many of the inscriptions on the tombstones show signs of erosion.
Furthermore, modern Danish not only incorporates many words and pronunciations from Latin and Greek, but was also strongly influenced by German, to the point that even if there are still some legible fragments of text, those who are not proficient in Old Danish can hardly understand the content.
This is why very few tourists come here specifically to see the cemetery.
After all, cemeteries are everywhere, and this one doesn't have any particularly outstanding features that would make them want to come here specifically to take a picture. It's enough for them to just take a picture while they're at it; it's unlikely that anyone would travel a long way to come here just to ask where the tombstone of a specific person is.
Unless, of course, the other party has ulterior motives.
Ryder Vick chose to play dumb. "Are you a descendant of that person? Then I think you've come to the wrong place. There's never been an inscription on any tombstone here that says Rasmussen."
"Yeah?"
The other person seemed to have a subtle smile in his eyes as well. “Gottfried Rasmussen,” he said slowly, as if telling a story, recounting all the information in detail. “One of the followers of the Moravian Church, who died three hundred years ago.”
"His father was Enrique Rasmussen, an equally devout believer, who himself had nothing particularly remarkable to his name."
"Believers under the control of the Moravian Church can marry, but the church must appoint their spouses."
"The Moravian Church was originally the Bohemian Brotherhood, a Protestant sect that split from the Bohemian Hussites. At that time, its followers were scattered and fled due to persecution by Catholics. A small group of them came to Denmark, eventually established the Moravian Church, and chose to settle there."
Ryder Vickmer remained silent as he listened to this unexpected guest recount the origin story in great detail.
"So, how was the Moravian Church established?" Fyodor's smile, which had been lingering at the corners of his lips, widened. "Because they accepted a woman who had also suffered political persecution, and who was rejected by the new king for having an affair with the old king who had died of old age."
"When they chose to rescue the woman, she also brought them a sacred object guided by the gods—or rather, a holy sword."
"This matter was not revealed, but the Moravian Church was overjoyed. They enshrined the Holy Sword and appointed Enrique Rasmussen to marry her, and they had a son named Gottfried Rasmussen."
"Later, Mr. Gottfried Rasmussen became the head of the church, and after his death, he chose to take his mother's only possession to his grave as well."
“Well, with so much data missing, it’s quite difficult to deduce these connections,” Fyodor said calmly. “After all, Europe was in the midst of the turbulent Thirty Years’ Wars at that time, and a large number of documents were destroyed.”
Not to mention that at that time, both the spelling and pronunciation of words differed greatly from the existing system.
Even the dramatic and absurd secrets of the royal family from three hundred years ago could be deciphered in such a short time. Ye Yihe, who was also listening in the palace of consciousness, was simply amazed.
It turns out that the Fyodor CPU he used when learning the language may have been less than 10%.
Ryder Vick listened intently, his expression tense, and he quietly put one hand behind his back.
"Did I forget to tell you?"
As if he hadn't noticed his movements, Fyodor feigned realization, but even his smile became sinister and dangerous.
"The name of that Holy Cross sword is Solzreuni."
—As soon as he finished speaking, Ryder Vick's right hand emerged from behind his waist, revealing a pistol pointed at him.
Fyodor recognized it at a glance as the Austrian Glock 17 pistol. The extensive use of engineering plastics made it lightweight and inexpensive, and the absence of a conventional manual safety lever allowed for one-handed firing the moment it was drawn, without the need to disengage the safety first.
In other words, he would die the instant the other party fired the shot.
Inside the Palace of Consciousness, Ye Yihe, who had been nestled in a soft sofa observing from the sidelines, suddenly stood up.
Even in the face of such a desperate situation, Fyodor did not make the slightest move. He remained standing empty-handed in front of his opponent, maintaining that dreadful smile that seemed to indicate he was in complete control.
Fear is more likely to erode people's hearts than fear itself.
Bang!
Ryder Vick's finger was on the trigger, and he fired almost without hesitation.
Fyodor offered no resistance, but someone else reacted faster than him—
Just as the bullet was about to leave the barrel, he stepped forward, crouched low, and thrust his left hand forward in one fluid motion. Ryder Vick's right wrist was forced up, causing the bullet's trajectory to deviate. The bullet grazed his face and went straight into the red brick wall.
"…………"
Faced with such an inhuman reaction speed, Ryder Vick, who was holding a gun, was dumbfounded.
But Ye Yihe, who was called up instantly, did not.
He nimbly changed the hand that was striking the other man's right wrist, gripping it and twisting it backward, using the force to turn behind the tall man, forcing him to bend over and press down—and then a kick to the back of his knee sent him crashing to his knees, completely unable to move.
"What's going on? Were you deliberately provoking him to attack?!"
Ye Yihe glared at Fyodor, whom he had squeezed into the Palace of Consciousness, and scolded him angrily. Even though his Russian trills were not very fluent, it did not stop him from continuing to speak in his broken pronunciation, "So you didn't expect the other side to be able to fire a gun, huh! Look at you showing off, you almost lost your life!"
[…………]
Fyodor looked a bit stunned, as if he hadn't expected things to develop this way at all.
He blinked slowly. Rather than feeling offended by the reprimand from the alternate personality, his reaction seemed closer to a throbbing excitement, even his tone of voice became a lament.
[Ah-ah, I really didn't expect that...]
"...Why are you so happy to be scolded?"
Ye Yihe was speechless at the guy who had never shown any anger towards him before, then turned to the gatekeeper who was still struggling beneath him, "What should we do with this one?"
[Just kill him.]
Fyodor remarked casually within the palace of consciousness, "[I can recognize the tombstone.]"
He was just trying to silence them.
Denmark itself prohibits guns, and he, who had illegally crossed the border, lacked weapons. Furthermore, due to Yeikh's awakening and his tendency to interfere with his lifestyle, he never had the opportunity to obtain a gun from the black market.
Of course, even if he steps into the other party's territory without posing any threat, there is a way to carry out the plan to eliminate him—simply have the other party kill him.
In this way, the [Sin and Punishment] ability will be activated, and he will be reborn from the other person's body.
But the outcome at this moment...
Fyodor bit the knuckle of his left index finger between his teeth, almost feeling a shiver run down his spine at the sight before him.
His second personality almost entirely embodies his ideal of the best side of himself.
Ah, this belongs to him.
"...He didn't do anything wrong; we were the ones who came to rob him."
Upon hearing the proposed solution, Ye Yihe's eyebrows furrowed in distress. "To simply silence them... that won't do."
He's a good fighter, but he's never actually killed anyone...
[Then, I'll listen to you.]
Fyodor readily conceded, and then used polite language that seemed to gently scratch at the heart like a cat's paw.
Even though Ye Yihe had used the same language when talking to Ryder Vick, he still felt there was a subtle difference.
However, right now... aiming at the vagus nerve on the side of his neck, Ye Yihe knocked the man unconscious with a single palm strike, then circled around the church, tore off a narrow piece of brocade from the altar, and tied him up tightly.
They never revealed Fedor's name to the goalkeeper, and by the time he woke up and successfully called for help, they had already left Denmark.
As for the holy sword that Fyodor mentioned... Ye Yihe resigned himself to his fate, found a shovel, and carried it to the cemetery to dig up a grave.
Thankfully, this system for doing good deeds doesn't deduct resurrection points for him breaking the law...
"Why are you so happy pointing out a grave?"
This body's stamina is still very poor. After digging a few shovelfuls, Ye Yihe planted the shovel on the ground for a break. "And the sound doesn't sound right. Are you biting your nails again?"
Even in the realm of consciousness, I can't shake this bad habit!
[Um? ]
Fyodor's voice sounded exceptionally kind at that moment.
I didn't.
"...Don't lie to me."
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