Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 60: He Lives Again

Chapter 60: He Lives Again
Rowe shook his head at the Goddess of the Underworld squatting over him, his expression neither mournful nor delighted.
Today was not yesterday. Death here was only a detour. As long as Ereshkigal existed, he could not truly disappear. Even if he tried to shut out her blessing, it would be pointless. She would intercept his soul every single time and refuse to let him sink into the true land of death.
Rowe had long since accepted that a normal end was a luxury this patch of earth would never grant him.
“Can I get up now?” he asked.
The Underworld remained as it always was. Silent, gray white stone. Hard, cold earth. Flickering blue green flames that lit nothing except emptiness. His voice rang out clearly in that hollow domain, echoing far too loudly for a place meant to swallow sound.
“Eh?” Ereshkigal blinked.
Only then did she realize the position she had taken without thinking. She was not pinning him down, but she was sitting beside him with one hand braced against the ground, leaning forward as she spoke. Her face was lowered, her body angled directly over his.
In that moment of distraction, her supporting hand slipped.
Thump.
Her forehead hit Rowe squarely in the chest.
“… ”
It was over.
Had Ereshkigal caught Ishtar Rin’s legendary clumsiness? Because that collision was so perfectly timed it felt hereditary.
Rowe glanced sideways at the soft warmth suddenly pressed into his arms. After slipping, Ereshkigal had crashed straight into his embrace. Her long pale legs were still grounded, but her hips were planted firmly against him. Everything above that made the situation painfully obvious.
“Wah… ooh…” Ereshkigal let out a small whimper. Her ruby eyes wobbling with confusion. Then, realizing how close he was, her face flushed bright red.
“You… you, I…”
She stammered herself into silence.
Rowe sighed, helpless in the face of a goddess who short circuited this easily.
“Since you will not get up, I will get up myself.”
He did not wait for her to recover. One hand slid to her waist, the other hooked beneath her thigh. His palm pressed into the delicate curve there. With steady, careful force, he lifted her.
In one motion, he stood.
The sudden sway made Ereshkigal instinctively wrap her arms around his neck. The warmth of his body, the firm hold at her waist and legs, left her mind blanker than the Underworld.
Rowe, to his credit, had no urge to play hooligan. He simply wanted to stand.
So he set her down immediately.
“C consider yourself lucky!” Ereshkigal adjusted her robes, cheeks still blazing.
Her words were sharp, but her eyes carried a faint, reluctant disappointment that she did not fully understand. Rowe, meanwhile, found himself thinking very deeply about this contradiction.
“Hmph, I will let you off.” She bared her teeth, then suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be asking. “By the way, Rowe, how did you get here?”
Now that she had recovered her composure, the question landed like a stone.
This was the Underworld.
Only the dead arrived here.
And Rowe, being the Key of Heaven and the Sword of Rupture itself, should not have dropped so easily.
“Oh? I died,” Rowe answered with a perfectly righteous face.
“… ”
To say it that casually really was outrageous.
Ereshkigal sighed, genuinely troubled.
“Honestly… you are that strong, so why do you die so easily?”
He was, after all, a follower of the Underworld goddess.
“To see you,” Rowe replied, half joking.
“You… what nonsense are you spouting, mm…” Ereshkigal’s face turned red again. She thrust out a hand, trying to look stern. “Come with me. I will take you back.”
“In the future, you cannot do this anymore.”
Her voice dropped softer and softer near the end.
“If… if you want to see me, just say so, and I will cooperate with you. Of course, if you insist on coming here on your own, it is not impossible…”
“All right then.” Rowe took her hand without hesitation. It was soft and delicate, warmer than this place had any right to allow. “From now on, I will be bothering you a lot.”
Ereshkigal blinked.
“?”
Half a day later.
Still in the Underworld, inside a stone palace stacked from cold rock, Rowe opened his eyes again. He was once more staring at the Goddess of the Underworld.
“Ah, I am back again.” Rowe smiled brightly.
“… ”
So he really meant bothering you a lot.
Ereshkigal stood there, speechless. Happiness and shock tangled together until she could not tell which was stronger. As the ruler of the Underworld, she had been alone forever, but she had still seen her share of demigods and heroes who trespassed here.
She was experienced.
She would not be frightened by something like this.
She told herself that very firmly.
“Ereshkigal, I am back again.”
“!”
This kind of situation, she had never seen before.
Are you treating the Underworld as your house? Can you show even a little respect to the dead?
Although her mood was secretly excellent, her pride demanded a show of dignity. Even if that dignity always collapsed the moment shyness got involved.
Rowe, for his part, could only admit he could not help it.
Because in the human world, his body was weakening more by the day under the curse. If he closed his eyes for a nap, he might tumble straight into the Underworld again. It was not entirely uncontrollable, but resting here and resting there were becoming the same thing.
The only difference was that doing it here felt a bit… scummy.
“Hm…” After being sent back to the mortal world again, Rowe yawned and stretched under the sunlight of his courtyard.
“Rowe, are you awake?” Enkidu looked over, then jogged across the grass barefoot. Her white robe, cinched at the waist, swayed lightly as she moved. Worry lingered on her delicate face.
She adjusted the cotton robe around Rowe, considering whether to add another layer.
“Cough, cough… let us go eat something,” Rowe said, wobbling to his feet as if his bones were made of feathers.
“It is already prepared…”
“I can go by myself.” Rowe waved her off and walked into the house. He was not helpless enough to need carrying.
Only he left.
Enkidu remained where she was, gathering her soft green hair back into place. Her gaze drifted to her palm.
A single strand of golden hair rested there, caught when she had just touched Rowe.
The moment it met the light, it blackened instantly, as if burned and carbonized away.
But Enkidu had seen it clearly.
Her emerald eyes narrowed.
Her vermilion lips curved upward.
A dangerous glint flashed in her gaze.
“It is the smell of the Underworld.”
The clay doll twitched her nose and reached her verdict with eerie accuracy.
No wonder.
Lately, Rowe had been slipping into deep sleep more and more often, impossible to wake no matter how she called.
So that was it.
Her plain white robe stirred silently in the breeze.
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