The Case of Being Reincarnated as a Heretic Mob Character in an Eroge Where Everyone is Extremely Determined - Chapter 36

Chapter 36: The Medicine Seller

Originally, this body was inhabited by the original memories and personality of Oakley.

Until the consciousness of his past life awoke, Oakley lived modestly in a very ordinary family.

The winds changed when the village of his birth was attacked by the Heretics.

Confined in a facility and amidst confusion, at the age of ten, for some reason, he awoke to the memories of his past life.

From then on, the original Oakley and I from the past life merged, sharing memories. Essentially, the personality from the past life is the one that appears outwardly, while Oakley’s original traits tend to be more retracted.

But what does it mean to grow up without knowing a parent’s love?

Both in my past life and in this one, I have parents. I wasn’t subjected to abuse or neglect, nor were my parents’ characters bad—somehow, I must have been raised with love.

What was Joanne looking at?

While being embraced by Joanne’s soft body, I suppress my violently throbbing heart.

Joanne breathes a feverish sigh onto my forehead as I try to identify the source of this unpleasant discomfort.

“Our hearts, they’re going so crazy… Hey, listen to this, Oakley?”

My face is turned to the side, and I’m forcibly cradled into her chest.

The sensation of my earlobe being crushed, along with the heat of my ear merging with Joanne’s body temperature.

The warmth lurking beneath the cold exterior. Beneath these soft mounds, the sound of a heart thrumming like a strummed string resonated.

A thunderous noise like a boiling steam engine, excessive for sustaining a single human life. An immense human energy rages fiercely. A robust heart that continued to move tirelessly reached out as if to touch my skin directly.

A heartbeat sound that felt somehow familiar.

Confused by the inexplicable sensation, I simply listened to her heart sounds.

“You saw my memories too, didn’t you? What did you think?”

Surprised, I look up at her flushed face. Her split tongue was licking her own moistened lips.

What does Joanne know?

I definitely saw memories resembling hers. The problem is that she has spoken about them and conveyed them in words, which means she must have some level of certainty.

If it wasn’t just a coincidence that I had a vision of her memories, then it must be Joanne who launched this psychic attack.

“…Joanne-sama can use magic for mental interference?”

“Magic? What are you talking about?”

“Huh?”

Joanne reacts bluntly, without any pretense of ignorance. Her demeanor clearly reveals her genuine feelings.

I know this. Due to her personality, Joanne is incredibly bad at lying.

Just by observing her expressions and tone of voice, anyone can tell the truth from lies without even needing to use Juanquiro’s magic—Joanne is that much of a straightforward person.

“Well, it’s like magic, isn’t it? The fact that we could meet like this.”

Joanne suddenly utters something romantic.

As if it’s her turn, she reaches for my chest with a seductive touch.

Slipping her hand inside my shirt, she starts tracing the top of my heart with the pads of her fingers as if confirming its rhythm.

“…Aha. Your heart here, it’s pounding―It’s cute…”

An all-too-familiar gesture. As if she’d opened up my chest before, Joanne teased my heart with her pitifully sweet movements.

She scratches up the groove with her nails, enjoying my reaction as she peers into me with her spiraling eyes.

She grips her own chest over her clothes, clutching it so tightly that wrinkles form a radiating pattern.

“What did you see in me? I want you to know more. I want you to feel more excited, Oakley.”

Joanne’s face is a mix of unbearable pleasure, excitement, and anxiety. Pressured by her intensity, I confront her, seeking the truth.

“…I saw the scene where Joanne-sama met Aaros-sama.”

“Is that so? What do you want to see next?”

“Even if you ask what’s next―no, rather than that, what exactly did you see, Joanne-sama?”

Whether it was because the vague memories within me became unreliable or my body started to tremble uncontrollably, the moment I asked that question, the part of me that is Oakley felt a surge of anxiety and was about to scream.

An immense sense of rejection and aversion. I wanted to hear Joanne’s answer, yet I didn’t.

It was something necessary for me, as a person, to move forward, but I was helplessly shuddering.

I shook off that hesitation and focused my mind on Joanne’s words.

Words were woven from her small mouth.

My consciousness, accelerated to the point of slow motion, was struck by an impact so intense that it seemed the next moment would plunge into darkness.

“The moment you are born from the womb bag.”

The discrepancy between subjectivity and objectivity.

The words released by Joanne easily plunged my heart into confusion.

(–Womb bag? Is she suggesting that I, in this life, was born from that womb bag?)

Setting aside the slight relief that my memories from my previous life in Japan had not been exposed— for some reason, I could assert with certainty that there was no lie in Joanne’s words.

I should have been able to easily dismiss her baseless words as a lie, yet for some reason, I couldn’t.

Tremendous nausea gouged the back of my throat. The desire to deny her words raced through my body as Oakley himself tried to unearth his own memories.

The village of my birth. My parents. Friends. The uncles and aunts in the neighborhood.

(Could it be… All my memories as ‘Oakley’ were fabricated…?)

That can’t be right.

I can name my hometown.

It’s the village of ███.

(…Huh?)

…It does not come out.

Nevermind, it wasn’t a village.

It was a town. The town of ███…

(…)

My parents’ names. I can’t remember.

My friends’ names. I can’t remember.

When I think about it, I don’t even know their faces.

It’s not a matter of remembering; I simply don’t know. It’s like there’s a sandstorm in my mind.

…Why has it become so distorted?

When I suddenly recall, the contents of the brainwashing curriculum forced upon me as a child come to mind.

(I was definitely subjected to the brainwashing curriculum… Was my mind tampered with at that time? With magic or drugs? Ridiculous! I should have been on guard, knowing what could be done…)

It was also depicted in the original work… It must have been.

What is used in the brainwashing curriculum is… Yes…

…Huh, what was it?

It’s probably some kind of drug that interferes with the mind.

Right…? Uh, I might be mistaken.

Then, is it Aaros’s magic?

But it seems practically impossible for him to continue casting spells on a large number of people—

(Hey, hey… What happened to the original knowledge? Where did the knowledge from my previous life, which was my mental support, go!? Remember, me! When, where, and what was I subjected to!?)

Was the drug mixed into my food?

Or was I pressured into taking it?

Or was my brain tampered with?

I can’t remember. Even if I scratch my head, even if tears seem to come out of my eyes, not even a shred of memory surfaces.

(Ah…)

…That’s right.

When I was ten years old, I awoke to the memories of my past life and tried to escape from the heretical facility.

That’s when I was discovered by the guards and confined for three days.

It was at that time.

A child born from a womb bag who is brainwashed from birth should never think to escape.

I, who was seen as something ‘different’, had false memories implanted in me.

Within the wavering memories like a heat haze, someone’s words echo in my mind.

“Who is this child…?”

“He was planning an escape.”

“Reason?”

“He won’t talk.”

“Hmm, it seems that forcibly accelerating growth from the womb bag through baby medication often leads to complications.”

“What should we do?”

“Re-education. Plant suitable memories during the process.”

“Memories, huh?”

“Yes, it’s a first aid measure.”

―I remembered.

Children born from the womb bag are rapidly aged through medication, and within a few days after birth, their physical age is altered to that of a ten-year-old.

Since their mental state can’t keep up with the rapid growth of their bodies, they undergo several months of further medication for the formation of their ego.

What is shaped is an ego that is obedient to commands.

If they grow up without any problems, they become human beings like puppets who harbor no doubts about the words of the cult leader or the Executive.

I see, I underwent re-education when I was ten years old.

It must have been treated as a ‘bug’ that occurred during the formation of the obedient ego.

I had been drugged and had convenient memories implanted, but now the memories that had been sealed away until now are being released.

I suppress the throbbing impulse inside my body.

Conveniently rewriting memories, toying with people’s lives, and wasting their entire existence—

What the hell are you? Do they think they’re gods?

Everyone in the cult is insane.

What do they think human life is?

The part of me that is Oakley is breaking down, faced with reality.

I had nothing. No hometown to return to, not even a family related by blood.

Born from a womb bag, how could I know who my father or mother were?

The destruction of my personality progresses.

My heart, pulled by the heresy, and the desire to flee to the orthodoxy, are splitting apart.

A crazed personality that finds even memory manipulation comforting rages within me, eroding the sanity I once had.

Ironically, what kept my sanity intact was the stimulation given by Joanne.

Her fingers tracing my body, her warm breath on my neck, and every time her lips landed, I was pulled back to reality.

Pulled back, again and again.

I understood why a Heretic with normal sensibilities never appeared, even by chance.

Because it’s easier not to be sane.

Because it’s happiness.

If you pretend to know nothing, Aaros-sama will guide you. Ah, how easy it is to entrust one’s fate to another.

…I feel nauseous. That man is evil. After all he has done, to still side with the Heretic?

The answer is a resolute no. I must stop the utterly vile boss.

I have to kill him.

(…Aaros hasn’t peeked into my past life memories, has he?)

If I fall under Aaros’s shadowy dominion, I’ll be forced to confess everything. Therefore, I’ve dismissed the possibility that my possession of past life memories has been exposed.

I don’t know why Joanne couldn’t see my past life memories either.

One possibility is that the very state of possessing memories from a past life is too special.

Although I am controlling the body of a man named Oakley, the memories that can be read are limited to what this current body has experienced, or at least that’s what I’m hoping based on my optimistic speculation.

Again, the exchange of memories was probably due to the transfer of memories caused by the exchange of the ring fingers.

It’s uncertain whether a memory transfer would occur just from exchanging ring fingers, especially when it’s not a vital organ like the heart… If it’s not due to a magical attack or the effects of a drug, then there’s no other way to think about it.

I don’t know when my past life’s memories might leak out.

Since magic exists in this world, there’s no guarantee that this rule won’t be broken.

And the moment my past life’s memories are transferred to Joanne… I will face an inescapable death.

There was already a time limit for the eradication of Heretics, but now I can’t afford to waste time more than ever.

I need to become an Executive quickly, and at the very least, I must kill Aaros.

(Ugh… It’s happening again. In the corner of my thoughts, there’s a personality trying to suppress hostility with a nonchalant attitude. I have to somehow remove this personality, or it may cause hesitation in my decisions at moments when instant action is required…)

Somehow, I’m reminded of the day of Daskell’s surprise attack.

That day, after being held by Joanne and falling asleep—why did I wake up on a restraint device instead of a bed?

Once something catches my attention, my thoughts can’t stop.

The true nature of the discomfort hidden behind Joanne’s love and madness.

The cause of my rampaging heart. The manipulated thought circuits.

Perhaps, that’s it.

The hypothesis of memory transfer was correct, and some vital organs had been exchanged.

For example, an organ like the heart—

“Joanne-sama. May I ask, did you replace my heart?”

To the question that slipped out, Joanne revealed a smile of madness.

“Amazing, how did you know!?”

“Please give it back.”

“Eh, why?”

“The reason we were able to see each other’s memories earlier is because of that. But it’s not just that, it’s also affecting our personalities. If this continues, Joanne-sama will no longer be Joanne-sama! Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine, I’m actually thrilled about it. Me getting dyed in your colors, and you getting dyed in mine. Isn’t that a wonderful thing?”

The first one I might have to kill is Joanne. A madman for whom speaking is just a waste.

Messing with my body without permission―

Ah, what a cute girl she is. To think she would like me this much―

I want to kill―I want to kiss.

“…”

Why don’t you understand me, Joanne?

I’m scared. I’m scared of not being myself anymore.

Normal people can’t endure it.

Why won’t you try to understand me?

“Yes, Joanne-sama. I think it’s wonderful.”

I hugged Joanne tightly as tears streamed down my face.

My heart was completely tainted.

……..

TL/N: Oakley is gradually becoming an actual madman 🙁