Chapter 1 - Prologue

Even if it is not in the lofty night sky.

Even if it has fallen somewhere no one can see.

If it wishes to shine on its own,

then it is a star.

* * *

There were things that carefully lit themselves in the dark night.

The city's back alleys, able to shine because it was night.

With a single avenue crossing the city as the boundary, one side had fallen asleep while the other quietly raised its head.

Two worlds, living lives that could never mix.

And only now was the time when those hidden behind the brilliant lights of the city could reveal themselves.

An alley filled with merchants hawking their wares and drunkards shouting.

Amid the shabby things moving without rest, there stood a blond boy who alone had stopped.

"Beautiful."

The place where the boy had stopped was in front of a smithy, and there hung one splendid sword.

A gleaming sword, showing off its slender blade where anyone could see it.

It was the only thing in that filthy alley that shone by its own light.

And the light that began from the sword entered through the boy's eyes and into his chest, enough to illuminate something within his soul.

"..."

He had stood in one place staring at the sword for so long that his feet were sinking into the mud of the road, but the boy did not care.

"There you go again. Completely out of it."

Someone approached the boy, who was staring endlessly at the sword like a stone statue waiting for her husband.

"Vlad. Do you know you've been walking around in a daze lately? People are starting to talk about you here and there."

Though she wore worn-out clothes, the girl with abundant red hair was a colorful presence that did not suit the filthy back alley.

The boy looked at the girl who had spoken to him with vacant eyes.

"So what? I don't have anything to do today anyway."

"Why wouldn't you? Are the only chores the ones Madam and Jorge give you?"

The red-haired girl lifted both her palms and thrust them in front of the boy's eyes.

"See this? I had my hands in water so much because of the dishes that I'm about to get eczema. Does eczema make any sense for someone whose beauty is her fortune?"

"Where are you shoving those? You're in the way."

The boy called Vlad frowned and pushed away the girl's outstretched palms.

"This is one of the few rests in my noisy day. Don't touch it."

"Hmm~."

It was a reaction that could be called cold, but the red-haired girl did not mind.

After all, if someone could be hurt by cold treatment of this degree, they would not be able to settle down and live in a harsh back alley.

Instead, the girl studied Vlad's complexion and carefully whispered into the boy's ear in a worried tone.

"... So you still hear voices whenever you grab something like a stick and all that?"

"..."

At the silent confirmation, the girl's brow furrowed.

"What sin did you commit in a past life that, if you had to get hit by something, it had to be lightning out of a clear sky and leave you like this?"

Even in the city's back alleys, which were always noisy, rumors that went around were bound to be similar.

And the rumor being talked about here lately was the story of the blond boy who had been struck by lightning out of a clear sky.

"And even if you were struck by lightning, why did it have to be black lightning of all things and leave you like this?"

"If you're going to get in my way, why don't you piss off?"

"..."

Hurt rose all the way to the girl's throat at the boy's cold rejection, but she kept her mouth tightly shut and said nothing.

"I should be the one to hold back."

Because she understood.

The rougher and harsher the place one lived in, the more one needed time to steady one's heart.

"Still, shouldn't we head back now?"

But the timing was not good right now.

"Don't hang around for no reason. For the time being, stay holed up in the shop and keep quiet. You know the bishop is sensitive about that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

Seeing the boy finally look at her instead of the sword, the girl gave a broad smile.

"Omens."

As if wary that someone might hear, the girl drew close to Vlad's ear and murmured quietly.

The girl's breath lingering by his ear tickled.

"He's someone who got promoted from being an inquisitor, so whenever he sees some wicked omen, he burns people at the stake at the drop of a hat."

"Ah, shit."

Vlad hurriedly dug a finger into his ear and shoved the girl away.

"Did you spit in it?"

"Unbelievable. Seriously."

Seeing Vlad shove away her goodwill as if it were filthy, the girl placed a hand on her waist as though dumbfounded.

"Everyone's whispering behind your back, so I'm telling you not to stand here in a daze for no reason. What are you going to do if you get marked and dragged off to the church?"

"..."

Vlad did not talk back this time.

Because there was not a single thing wrong with what the girl had said.

And because he knew she was saying it out of concern for him.

"Still, just a little longer..."

"You're so frustrating. Just buy it on credit already! How much can that thing cost!"

Seeing Vlad still dawdling, the girl snapped in irritation.

"How expensive can something sold at a back-alley smithy be!"

"... That thing is five gold."

"... Whoa, look a little longer."

Hearing the amount that slipped from the boy's mouth, the red-haired girl's mouth fell open without her realizing it.

"... With that one thing, you could laze around doing nothing for a year."

She was not discerning enough to recognize the value of the sword before her eyes, but she at least knew very well the value of five gold.

Five gold.

It was not money one could never earn in a lifetime of work, but this dark back alley would never allow anyone to save that much money.

Because even if one managed to save it, someone would steal it or take it by force.

Because that was the way of those who lived here.

"With that money, shit..."

Just as the boy and girl were briefly drunk on the light the sword gave off,

"What are you brats doing blocking the front of someone else's shop and ruining my business!"

The owner of the smithy came rushing out and shouted in a shrill voice.

"This isn't something back-alley scum like you can set your sights on!"

The old blacksmith drove away the young spectators in a ringing voice.

Perhaps because he had looked at flames for so long, his eyes stung now even when he sat still, and he was always frowning.

"What's with doing business in a back alley yourself and then not selling to back-alley people?"

The curly red-haired girl shouted in a sharp voice, as if dumbfounded.

"Even if you add the two of us together, we haven't been here as long as you, old man! If anything, back-alley scum suits you better!"

"You... You little whore who isn't even old enough to sell her body yet, all mouth and nothing else!"

The frowning old blacksmith recognized the girl talking back and spat phlegm onto the ground.

"Go back to your shop and wash dishes! You half-grown thing!"

"Half-grown? Half-grown, you say! To a full-grown lady!"

The girl, who had an inferiority complex about her small build, seemed to think this was perfect and unleashed even the dissatisfaction she had received from the boy onto the blacksmith.

"I'm making my debut next year, you know! Once I get paid for my virginity, a sword like that would be worth about one mug of beer!"

The girl stroked her proud red hair and smiled at the old blacksmith in a way that tried to be coquettish.

It was nowhere near enough to seduce anyone, but the effort itself was commendable.

"Maybe I'll buy it then and use it for slicing sausages."

"You... You crazy bitch."

Seeing the girl say she would use the sword he had painstakingly made for nothing more than slicing sausages, the old blacksmith's body trembled.

"This! Is not! For sale to back-alley scum!"

"You hung it in a back alley, so only people from the back alleys can see it! Why won't you sell it? Are you senile, old man!"

"Seriously, why are you two doing this?"

As the time that should have been the most peaceful part of his day turned into a mess, the boy's expression crumpled.

"Let's go, Zemina. We're leaving, old man."

"Take that half-grown bitch and get out from in front of my shop!"

"You should've just kept making what you usually make! Why'd you make a sword only knights use and cause all this fuss? Are you about to die or what!"

"You... You!"

Realizing that neither of them would back down, Vlad hurriedly grabbed the nape of the huffing Zemina's neck and dragged her toward the end of the alley.

"Fine! It is because I'm about to die, you bitch!"

Even after the girl's red hair disappeared, the old man, trembling from his rising blood pressure, still did not seem to have calmed down, and his hands shook.

"Rotten bitch... Maybe it's because she somehow didn't starve to death, but she's full of nothing but venom..."

The old man remembered.

The little children who wandered around on a cold winter day with a single blanket wrapped around them.

The young vagrants who shared the warmth of three people with one blanket had been able to survive because they had eaten the venom of the filthy back alleys instead of someone's pity.

"Do you know how much food I gave you back then, damn bitch."

As soon as the red hair that had infuriated him vanished from the alley, the old man spat phlegm once more, then suddenly felt something enter his gaze.

It was something pitiful.

"Stupid brat. He should just think about getting by..."

A single footprint was deeply carved into the filthy mud.

The footprint, which showed he had been standing here for a long time, was enough to awaken in the old blacksmith an emotion other than anger toward the girl.

Shaking his head and going back into his shop, the blacksmith let out a sigh for someone.

"Fuck... These young brats make too much trouble for an old man."

The old blacksmith stretched his trembling hands high, took down the sword that had been hanging there, and soaked an old cloth in oil.

"... Kid. If you have dreams in a place like this for no reason, life gets hard."

Though he said that, the old blacksmith began carefully polishing the sword that could be called his final work.

"I know that well."

The wrinkles around the old man's eyes twitched as he polished the sword.

The young blacksmith who had once had a dream was crushed by reality, caught by the ankles in the back alleys, and ended up settling down here.

Until his black hair turned white.

Things born in the back alleys can never escape this place for their entire lives.

That was true of the old blacksmith, and it would be true of the boy who had been standing here.

And even of the final masterpiece he had created.

Yet the old blacksmith still dreamed.

"I can't let my last work rot in a place like this."

A brilliant light shone from the tip of the sword the old man picked up.

"... So I'm only selling this to someone who can get out of here."

In the dark alley filled on all sides with filthy venom, the old blacksmith once again hung his sword high.

Using the dark back alley as a night sky, he hung up a single shining star.

The sword, polished with the old man's unfulfilled dream, shone brilliantly.

For the boy whose two feet were still in the mud, but whose eyes alone chased after something sparkling.

The boy's eyes as he looked at the old man's sword resembled stars.