Weed ~The One’s Gardener~ - Chapter 74

24. Comfort For the Survivors

Hana had a dream.

Everyone was looking at her, expecting something from her, and she was going to fulfill that expectation.

No, it didn’t matter if they weren’t actually expecting anything. She wasn’t coerced. It was her own decision. After much deliberation, it seemed there was nothing else she could do. It was the best course of action.

So, she decided to go through with it.

What she could do was to plunge into the endless, dark void of nothingness. It was a satisfying dream. Everything would turn out fine because of it.

[ Now, I understand what your regrets were. They weren’t really regrets. They were just something you had always wanted to do. ]

In her dream, Hana kept repeating the same action.

She woke up. Then she died.

Woke up. Died again.

Came here.

Headed towards the void.

And died.

[ Do you see? That is your decision. It’s what you’ve always wanted. ]

Void manipulated Hana’s memories to make her dream the same dream, as if criticizing her for reversing a decision she should have made long ago. It was as if showing her in advance what form that decision would take in the future.

Perhaps she should have done it as soon as she arrived here. It was something that shouldn’t have been delayed. But when she said she might die, Weed cried. He pleaded with her not to do it, begged, cried…

Even though she knew how to solve the divine disease, she kept delaying it.

She had no objection to implementing that method, but she delayed because of Weed’s pleas. She didn’t want to see him like that.

But how would anything change by just living like this?

‘…Why am I dreaming this now?’

It was odd. She didn’t remember going to bed. As she thought about it, she snapped awake. Hana opened her eyes and sat up.

“Uht.”

She got dizzy from standing up too quickly.

“Hana.”

“Ah, Weed. What’s… uh.”

She was about to ask what was happening but groaned again. It felt like her head was going to split open.

As Hana staggered, Weed, who had been watching her closely, immediately handed her a cup of water.

“…You suddenly lost consciousness.”

“Ah. Yes… that happened.”

Innis.

Calden’s desperate voice calling her. Innis had not managed to get up, and Hana, watching all this, couldn’t control her trembling body. She stopped breathing and passed out.

The faded gray hair. The shriveled, frail body. The peaceful expression that emerged on a face now filled with wrinkles again, as if seeing someone dearly missed. A person she both wanted to forget and never wanted to forget.

“Since she is your guest, we plan to hold a proper funeral here.”

“Ah…”

The water cup in her hand shook. Void had stirred up old memories. Once the floodgates were opened, the past memories mercilessly rushed in. Buried under unpleasant memories, her chest tightened.

She was gone. She really has passed away.

The pain constricting her chest wasn’t just out of sympathy for the person who just died. Hana had experienced something similar before. Maybe because of that memory, she felt even more suffocated. She felt nauseous.

It felt like history was repeating itself.

A faint resentment surfaced, questioning why she had to die just then, even though it wasn’t respectful towards the deceased.

She had been concerned about her from the moment they met.

Why had Innis contracted the divine disease and come to this place? Why had she insisted on wearing only bright and lovely dresses while looking like a white-haired old lady? Why did she make her remember someone she had tried to forget by thanking her? Why did Innis resemble her so much?

And why did she have to look like that in her moment of death…

“Hana, are you alright?”

Weed asked her in worry. Only then did Hana realize she was breathing heavily again. She couldn’t drink the water. Anything that went down felt like it would come right back up.

“W-Weed, listen.”

She felt really unwell. It seemed like she needed to expel something.

“Yes.”

“Back, back where I used to live.”

“Yes.”

“There was, I, I had only one family member. Just on, one.”

Hana had never shared this story with anyone. She didn’t want to gain sympathy from those who couldn’t understand, nor did she want to receive their sharp criticisms, even though she clearly needed consolation.

Instead, she had kept these thoughts deeply buried within her and left them festering silently. Showing weakness to others often turned into a vulnerability, but she knew Weed wouldn’t see it that way.

“My, my grandmother was there… she was very sick. She had a terminal illness, and… she needed an organ transplant. I wasn’t considered immediate family, so I… I couldn’t be a donor. All I could do was raise money. A lot of money. That, that was all I could do.”

“Hana, please take your time with your story.”

From the start, Innis had reminded her of someone. Despite her attempts to deny it, Innis bore too strong a resemblance to her. When Innis clasped her hands with those deeply wrinkled hands and thanked her, Hana almost cried.

For a moment, she thought she had seen her grandmother.

She had missed her so much. She had almost shouted out all the things she had kept inside for so long.

I missed you. I’m sorry.

“I really thought… that day, that day would be okay? I thought she was getting better. I was happy about that. That day, I…”

“Hana, calm down. It’s okay, right?”

She could never forget her last day. Her sleep only brought repetitive memories of that day. It led to insomnia.

Hana’s grandmother, weakened by illness and age, couldn’t move, but her spirit was youthful… always cheerful. Even in pain, she cried quietly, never complaining. In fact, taking care of her was considered lucky from a caregiver’s perspective.

That day had been unusual. The hospital room was lively and cheerful. For some reason, her grandmother had the strength to sit up and chat and play with others in the room. She claimed she wasn’t in pain and felt energetic.

Caring for someone consumes physical and mental energy. Even if one denies it, fatigue builds up over time. That was why she thought it would be okay to leave the hospital for a bit that day.

“I really had something I needed to do that day.”

“Yes.”

“I had to report a stalker, so I left the hospital just for that day…”

“Hana.”

“I really thought it would be okay…”

“It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

She was her only family, the only one who truly accepted her. That’s why Hana loved her.

It seemed like everything would be fine that day. She was feeling good, not in pain, and full of energy. That day, which seemed so promising, turned out to be her last.

If it had been possible, Hana would have saved her. She would have gladly given every organ in her body, even if it meant being left with nothing but skin if it could have kept her alive. Without her, there was no reason for Hana to continue living.

But no one recognized her feelings.

People criticized Hana for neglecting her care, claiming she died lonely because Hana wasn’t there. They said she didn’t appreciate the upbringing her grandmother gave her. They doubted she had taken proper care of her since she wasn’t there at her last moment. They said it wasn’t something Hana could just delegate to others.

She felt unjustly accused, but she had no response.

She was criticized for being selfish. In a selfish manner, Hana deflected responsibility for the accident to someone else, avoiding her feelings by blaming everything on that man—if only he hadn’t stalked her.

No, if only she hadn’t been careless.

No, that wasn’t right.

If only she hadn’t been born out of place in the first place.