Chapter 47 - Now It Was Time to Return (3)

Peter sat quietly in his seat, looking at the wooden box placed before him.

A darkish wooden box.

It was a wooden box engraved with a pattern he could not tell whether to call splendid or bizarre.

"... The family of the Count of Ravnoma was the only family in the West that could uphold the pact."

"I understand."

Andreas and many other priests stood before Peter with their hands clasped.

Because they knew they were placing a heavy burden on the lord of this land.

"... I will provide you with knights. I will uphold the pact with the utmost sincerity I can offer."

Peter rose from his seat and spoke to the priests.

He would give them the best support he could.

He would do his utmost to move the dragon's trace, the proof of the pact.

"Thank you, Count."

"Until preparations are complete, rest here comfortably as my guests."

Watching the priests bow their heads and leave, Peter finally let out a small sigh.

"So my guess was right after all."

"It must have been the only choice they had."

Ravnoma, ruler of the western region and guardian of the pact, had fallen.

And the priests had pulled the old pact from the collapsing Ravnoma mansion and were on their way to someone qualified.

"..."

With a stifling heaviness he could do nothing about, Peter walked for a moment and looked out the window.

Fortunately, unlike the heavy air in this place, a welcome sight was waiting there.

"It has been a long time since I saw that flag."

A carriage was moving.

With a single small flag hanging from it.

It was a flag Peter had been able to see often when he was young.

"He could have rested a little before going."

"His blood must be running hot."

At Ragmus's answer, Peter nodded.

He would have done the same.

He could fully understand the boy's feelings.

A boy carrying a flag that only knights who had become their own masters, Knight Bannerets, could carry was leaving the mansion.

Returning.

To his hometown.

To do what he ought to do.

※※※※

Today, as always, there was a boy wandering the back alleys of Soara.

Most of the people who lived in the back alleys lived clutching their hungry stomachs, but the boy had been born with conditions a little worse than theirs.

Pitch-black skin.

Born with black skin, the target of contempt and discrimination, the boy was someone who could not help being ignored even in the back alleys, called the darkest place in Soara.

"... There isn't even anywhere to work."

Ned, the boy with black skin.

Since he had opened his eyes, he had to get up, and since he had gotten up, he had to eat something, but the reality was that the mood in Soara these days was so harsh that even getting a meal somewhere was difficult.

'It wasn't this bad in the old days...'

Ned quietly rolled his eyes and examined every corner of the back alleys.

Those who had lived by begging were simply sprawled out, rolling their eyes weakly, and even those who still had work could only sigh as they looked at their cheeks growing hollow despite working all night.

Everyone was having their blood sucked.

By the Money Bug who coveted gold.

"The old days were better..."

As he let out a lament that did not suit his age, Ned's gaze naturally turned toward a certain building.

When people were in need, they always tended to recall the better days.

'If I tried to pickpocket there now, there wouldn't even be bones left of me.'

The building Ned was looking at was Rose's Smiles.

A brothel where there had been a blunt boss and a kind-hearted madam.

But now, everyone who had been there had either died or been sold away.

Rose's Smiles, once always full of pleasant music and the laughter of whores, was now only a place filled with wretched moans and the shouting of scoundrels.

Even if he were caught pickpocketing there now, there was no blond boy to save Ned.

'Hm?'

As Ned was remembering the past and lamenting reality, people who did not belong in the back alleys came into his view.

A fat man who looked as if he had some money and a sharp-looking man who seemed like a mercenary.

Watching them head straight for the street with the brothels, perhaps to relieve their pent-up desires, Ned stuck out his tongue slightly.

"... This might work if I do it right."

The man who looked like a mercenary seemed to be a guard, but this much was worth the risk.

Even if he was caught, it would be fine as long as he did not die.

Because he could not live relying on his hyung forever.

'...'

Hunger and impatience were scattering the boy's judgment.

Ned slowly followed the two men.

The way the boy approached slowly, skillfully hiding himself behind the junk protruding here and there, was movement worthy of praise.

'Now.'

But Ned, just as someone once had been, was a guy who did not have the skill to live as a pickpocket.

"..."

Noticing the black boy approaching from right behind him, the mercenary naturally moved his hand to the hilt of his sword.

The killing intent was growing thicker and thicker, but Ned did not notice.

Ned's weakness was that while he had good focus, his field of view was not wide.

Ned tried to approach the fat man.

The mercenary man moved to draw his sword as he watched Ned.

In the approaching catastrophe, at the very moment another end was about to fall into the back alley today as well.

"You still act like a dumbass."

SMACK!

At that instant, someone forced his way between the two of them.

A man who entered so naturally from the mercenary's blind spot that he could not predict it, then slipped out like the wind.

"Ugh!"

Ned clutched the back of his tingling head and looked at the man brushing past him at a quick pace.

Blond hair he had seen somewhere many times before.

And even a familiar gait.

"What the hell?"

But Ned could not connect that figure all the way to the boy who had once sold candles at Rose's Smiles.

Because he seemed far too confident and far too tall for that.

"Ah, damn it, I missed them."

The boy, who had gained tomorrow's sun in exchange for losing today's prey, knew nothing and merely spat out a single curse.

At the blond man who had just smacked the back of his head and passed by.

※※※※

When twilight fell and darkness arrived, there were shops that only then lit their dim lights.

One of them.

Among the shops that sold gaudy flowers, there was one in particular where men were flocking.

Rose's Smiles had once been like that, but now people's attention was fixed on another brothel.

"Hey, over here!"

"I'm next! Play with me next!"

"The one with the most money gets her! Marcella! Make a drink for me!"

"..."

Behind the bar, where the men were shouting with bloodshot eyes, a woman was touching up her makeup.

In the past, she had had abundant black hair that anyone would envy, but as more and more time passed, her hair was losing its shine.

She had already withered beyond what splendid makeup or ornaments could hide, but perhaps it did not matter.

Because even now, men were throwing down gold coins stained with desire in order to possess her, who had once been a symbol of the back alleys.

"Marcella. If you're ready, you should hurry out, shouldn't you?"

A woman holding a long cigarette holder in her mouth approached Marcella from behind and spoke to her.

The tobacco smoke she breathed out was unbearably acrid.

"You need to take even one more customer for your debt to be cleared. If you don't, you won't be able to leave here until your body rots away and falls apart."

The middle-aged woman smoking the cigarette sneered at her with a smile that seemed to have poison carved into every wrinkle.

"..."

It was mockery disguised as advice, but Marcella made no answer.

Because she knew very well that every negative emotion that came from her—anger, sorrow, or fear—was like sweet wine to the woman behind her.

"... Let's see how long that proud attitude of yours lasts."

Perhaps displeased that Marcella showed no reaction to her, the middle-aged woman growled as she stroked Marcella's chin from behind.

But Marcella merely smiled back without a trace of malice.

"Live long, Madam."

"..."

Marcella had not broken.

She had merely been trampled.

Watching the madam leave the preparation room with a displeased expression, Marcella resumed her makeup.

The reflection of herself in the mirror was pitiful beyond words, but instead of shedding tears, she chose to dust on another handful of powder.

Marcella was aware that, for a mere whore who sold her body, she had climbed far too high.

And the back alleys of Soara were also a place filled with people who would gladly give sincere applause for those who fell.

"... Still, I did well enough."

In the space prepared only for Marcella, she smiled sadly for herself.

Though her entire body had been torn to shreds by the pain of her fall, she was one of the victors of these back alleys.

Because at least she had chosen her own fate.

Even the way she would be ruined.

"Are you not coming out!"

At the shrill shout of the madam, Marcella forced a smile and rose from her seat.

Wearing gaudiness pasted on with forced makeup instead of the charm that had once flowed naturally from her.

"Marcella!"

"Here! Here, take my gold!"

When she appeared beneath the dazzling lights, the men began to let out bestial shouts.

Marcella quietly sat in the assigned seat and watched the men before her.

Pitiful beasts ruled by desire were over there.

"..."

Before her, who knew how to cook but did not know how to make alcohol, stood countless bottles and glasses.

In truth, they had nothing to do with anything.

She would make a drink for the man who called the highest price.

And the man who took the glass she offered would become today's victor and smell the scent of the withering flower to his heart's content.

That was all this space was.

"Here! Here! I'll pay 1 gold!"

"What are you going to do with 1 gold! I'll pay 2 gold!"

"Can we pool our money here? The two of us together will pay 3 gold!"

Listening to the shouts of the men yelling themselves hoarse, Marcella quietly closed her eyes.

The males in front of her were throwing gold coins, but the coins they scattered would not even reach her feet.

Because the chain of debt that One-Armed Jack had forced upon her was binding her.

The brothel's madam, who had been sneering at Marcella until just now, was smiling.

Though she was a withering flower, Marcella was truly admirable for producing golden honey.

"Then..."

Just as the madam picked up her long cigarette holder and was about to sell Marcella to the man who had bid the highest price.

"100 gold."

A quiet voice rang out from below the empty staircase.

It was a voice so clear and powerful that everyone here turned their heads.

"... What?"

"I said I'll pay 100 gold."

CREEEAK.

Along with the madam's surprise, someone was coming up, stepping on the planks of the old staircase.

"...!"

At the creaking sound that reached her ears, Marcella shuddered without realizing it and squeezed her eyes shut.

Hearing the sound of the footsteps the man who had brought ruin to Rose's Smiles had walked with, Marcella was screaming soundlessly.

CREEEAK.

She had accepted everything calmly, but only the wound from that day's memory was still lodged deep in Marcella's soul, tearing the wound open.

"... Customer, did you say 100 gold?"

The brothel's madam asked the man coming up the stairs again to confirm whether she had heard wrong.

The men who had been panting with desire until just now also stared with mouths agape at the man who had suddenly barged in, stunned by the enormous sum.

But the man who had come up with a confident stride said nothing more and merely strode toward the seat where Marcella was sitting.

"Do I order here?"

"... That is correct, but."

Though he had called out an absurd amount, the madam could not stop him at all.

For one thing, the atmosphere he gave off was fierce enough to suggest he might kill someone.

'He looks like he has money, though?'

More than anything, the black cloak and leather armor the man wore looked extremely high-quality.

Because his hood was pulled up, she could not see his face, but at this level, he had to be at least some young noble or a successful knight.

Even if not 100 gold, he looked like a man who could easily pay at least 10 gold.

Then he had more than enough right to embrace a withering flower.

"... Shall I give you the menu?"

"No need."

The young man, who seemed to have already grasped the atmosphere of this place, stopped the madam with practiced movements and looked at the woman sitting before him with her eyes quietly closed.

Watching him, the brothel's madam found herself puzzled for a moment.

Because there was no desire anywhere in the smile the man wore.

It was merely a sad smile.

"... Even after I left this place, I always missed these."

From the man everyone was watching after his sudden appearance, words they could not understand began to flow.

"Grilled sausage and black pudding, and hash browns with white wheat bread..."

Everyone was bewildered as they watched the man order breakfast in a place where he should be ordering alcohol.

'Is he crazy?'

Even the madam, the owner of this place, tilted her head as if she had no idea what to do.

"...!"

But Marcella alone could understand clearly.

Because the words the man before her had uttered were things she missed.

They were foods that had always appeared in the scenes she dreamed of.

"... Please make what Jorge always ate, Marcella."

Because it was the meal she had always prepared for Jorge.

Marcella did not want to open her eyes.

The familiar boy's voice came to her as if in a dream.

Because if she opened her eyes and looked at the reality before her, and it was not what she had hoped for, she felt she would not be able to bear it.

"... Ah."

Marcella slowly opened her eyes with tears running down her face.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

Through her misted vision, she saw blond hair blooming brilliantly.

"I told you I would come back, Marcella."

Radiant golden light flowed from the man as he took off the hood he had been wearing.

It was not the filthy golden gleam that the people here spat out with their desires.

It was the color possessed by the boy from that day, the boy Jorge had picked up and Marcella had washed clean.