chapter 25
Fate sure is a persistent thing.
Who would’ve thought I’d end up trapped in the very business once run by the marquis who killed me in the past. How am I supposed to get one over them this time? No — I can’t think about that now. I just need to survive.
Screech, screech.
The sound of a rusted, worn trolley being dragged started from the end of the corridor.
“Eat.”
It was the gruff-looking man who’d thrown me in the cell. He scattered bread into the cell like feeding birds.
The piece that happened to land in front of me was, unlike the brioche I’d had that morning, the hardness of a brick. Still, the children snatched it up and shoved it in, wary of someone else taking it.
“…Why aren’t you eating? You really are from a noble family, aren’t you?”
A girl who’d been clinging to me, saying my body smelled like my mother, whispered secretly.
‘Then how come your mother seems like a noble and you’re eating fine?’ I wanted to ask — but the thought of finding out more would only hurt, so I held back.
“It’s nothing like that. I’ll eat.”
I stuffed the bread in as if I’d never known warm, soft bread before.
After the meal I lay back, and noticed the children’s gazes fixed on something. A guard tossed a piece of bread toward the boy with shackles, but he hadn’t picked it up, so it stayed on the floor. From the looks of it, the chain was too short for him to reach it — just an unreachable distance away.
Even seeing that pitiful sight, the other kids only drooled, wanting the fallen bread first.
‘…He said he set fire to the town, didn’t he?’ I couldn’t tell whether that was true or not, but the boy looked at most a little older than me. So how dangerous could he really be?
Being an adult who encourages children to grow, I stood and confidently picked up the nearby bread. Between the kids’ tense inhalations I offered it toward the shackled boy.
“Here, eat.”
The child with jet-black hair didn’t even look up. He just stared at the floor as if dead.
“…Not eating? It’s yours, you know?”
As I brought the bread closer, a crumb fell onto the top of his head. I reached out to brush it off.
Thock.
“…!”
His grip on my wrist was so sudden I felt it more by touch than sight. He was so quick he had my hand seized before it could reach his head. The chilling, blood-colored eyes I met in that moment said everything — they certainly meant, “Do you want to die?” — a razor-sharp glare that froze me.
Sorry for messing around.
‘So it was true — he really killed someone. He must have.’
As soon as the boy relaxed his grip a little, I dropped the bread and bolted. It’s best not to get tangled up with someone who’s been crazy from the start; it’s better for your mental health.
The children who watched that tense scene swarmed like minnows to the opposite side of the shackled boy. I was among the innermost ones, hiding there. Soon I regretted it.
‘Wow, the stench is insane!’
I smelled it — kids who hadn’t bathed for a long time. When I thought it might be better to be threatened than to stay in that stench, the door opened again.
Clank! Creak.
“Now then, take a look. This is the size of the operation. It’s the biggest in this market.”
“Ooh…”
“All together seventy-three — children whose parents consented or who have no parents.”
“So you’re saying there’s no problem with them?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
All of the children pressed their faces up against the bars and peered out; I did the same, looking down the corridor. My view was blocked so I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed a group of about ten people was walking in a line. They hid their identities with hats and masks, which actually made them stand out more.
‘Those are special guests! They’ve already come? I should hide in a corner quickly… huh?’
The closer they came, one person in particular caught my eye.
‘What is that? Why does it feel familiar?’
Even masked, two of them gave off an exotic air with dark skin. ‘One adult, one child… wait — I’m five years old, so that little one… could it be the fence?’
It was certain. The only person who moved through the shady black market with a hooked blade and ornate tattoos was the capital’s one and only fence, Karim. The shadowy fence who ran the grim market — Karim. ‘Right. Black eyes and stark white hair. My goodness — a young version of Karim.’
Even behind the mask he’d always seemed like an apex predator. As I kept staring, Karim’s gang also looked my way.
“This one would sell well.”
“Is that so? Young master, golden eyes — perhaps some sacred power is at work.”
Like inspecting goods, Karim’s party looked me over.
Then one of the guards told the escorting warrior, “I’m not sure about the sacred power, but this child has special conditions attached.”
“Special conditions? Meaning they’ll brainwash and keep the child until adulthood? Then they must have kidnapped a noble’s child.”
“Well, the parents looked like commoners to me.”
“That’s what they say, young master.”
“Hmm, must be some powerful backer. Makes me curious.”
“Shall we buy them?”
The boy — young Karim— had a habit of tapping his forefinger when he was thinking; it looked like he was doing the math, calculating the reward he’d get if he checked my background. But then he let out a short sigh, as if giving up.
“Too much trouble. My mother wants this kept secret. I don’t want to get in trouble over a little money.”
He calculated like a hawk, but when he spoke of his mother the corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. It reminded me: he was a son who loved his mother dearly. If I remembered correctly, his mother was a merchant in the empire and a guildmaster.
‘I recall they said his mother fell in love with royalty, became pregnant, was abandoned, and then came to the empire.’ A tough woman who, despite everything, became a foreign guildmaster. He respected and loved that iron woman more than anyone.
‘Good — this is a complete opportunity!’
I whispered to the little fence, without the adults noticing.
“Hey!”
“Hey? Me? Who do you think you are—”
“Shh. Blue holy relic.”
“!”
Karim’s dark eyes jolted. Gripping the bars, he gave me a provoking look as if to make me say more.
‘He’s hooked.’
I quickly continued, “I know the location.”
“Hah, how would you know that?”
“Think sensibly. I want out of here.”
The child, still not grasping the situation, was pushed out by the arriving guests and left behind in a daze. I watched his departing back, filled with hope. If that clever fence from before were here, he would definitely think of a way to get me out. ‘Maybe I could even see the marquis first? Heh heh.’
No matter how hopeful I felt, night fell darkly. Rain must have been coming down outside, because the temperature in the prison dropped and the children huddled together. It felt like a way to keep warm, but the suffocating stench that had been present during the day intensified three- to fourfold, and a headache came on first.
I couldn’t sleep, so I moved toward the tiny ventilation hole — barely the size of a brick — that could hardly be called a window. The shackled boy near it shifted his body a little at my movement.
‘Oh — he’s awake. I need to be careful.’
Since I might be able to get out tomorrow, I turned to protect myself. But at that moment I noticed his limbs; they were blue with cold. It was definitely from the cold. He hadn’t had anyone come to him first, so however many nights he’d spent alone, he looked as if he were on the verge of frostbite.
Pathetic. He certainly had the makings of a future henchman of darkness due to his talent as an executioner, but right now he was just a child weakened by the cold.
“…How old are you?”
“……”
“You can’t speak?”
The boy sighed as if annoyed, but I could hear his breaths, trembling from the cold.
I kept asking, “Eight years? Nine years?”
“……”
“About that, right?”
Clank!
As I sat very close, the chain rattled sharply through the cell; he shifted to avoid me.
“What are you doing now?”
“So you can speak, huh.”
“Go away. I’ll kill you.”
…So that glare from earlier was for real. I felt the sincerity in those murderous-looking bloodshot eyes, but strangely, a peculiar courage rose in me.
“Tch! How can you be tied up and say that! Stay still. Young ones shouldn’t get cold.”
A frown creased the shackled boy’s brow. He must have been baffled — here was someone younger than him acting like an adult and worrying over him. Yet something odd happened: though I clamped my wrist over my nose to endure the stench, the smell from this boy’s body was somehow better than mine.
‘What is it? Was he abandoned by noble parents too, or…’
I looked him over more carefully. His posture was straight without a trace of timidity. His skin was smooth, without blemish or scar. If you took away his ragged clothes, he might look like an aristocratic young master standing at a lofty pinnacle.
For a moment I thought of Lord Aster again and let the suspicion pass with a laugh: ‘Ha ha, nothing makes sense. Some people just naturally smell good.’
