Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: White Crow Unit ― Georg (2)
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"There's a boy named Theodor Roman. He entered an orphanage about four years ago, but I don't know the facility's name. Please tell me where he is now."
I flipped through the registry of all 13 districts, sorted alphabetically by name.
"Roman... Roman..."
My eyes scanning the tiny print stopped at the surname 'Roman,' but there was no Georg or Theodor listed.
"No surprise there."
I grumbled as I closed the registry, sending a massive cloud of dust billowing up.
"Cough! Cough!"
I waved my hands for a while to clear the dust, then shoved the thick binder back onto the metal shelf where it belonged.
Georg had said the kid lived in District 5. The boy's desperate gaze, lips pressed tight as he looked up at me, was still vivid in my mind.
"District 5 is way too far from here."
Lüdelheim was divided into 16 districts.
District 1 had been the residence of lords or kings since ancient times—what they called 'the Lüdelheim of Lüdelheim'—and now it housed the Leader's palace.
Or rather, District 1 lay beneath the palace.
I'd heard the palace was a renovated old royal castle, but in my opinion, it was more like a total overhaul. It was at least twice the original size, floating high in the sky.
Aerial fortress fit it perfectly.
Anyway, Districts 2, 3, 4, and 5 ringed District 1, Lüdelheim's administrative heart, each with its own distinct flavor.
District 5 was home to all sorts of media outlets.
As for District 13, where I lived...
It was the king of income inequality, in a nutshell.
A place where sprawling empty lots had turned into slums alongside new businesses chasing cheap land prices.
But more importantly, it was far from District 5, and as a lowly civil servant, I had zero reason to dig up info from there—dead or alive.
"Ugh, can't back out now."
I ruffled my hair furiously, quietly venting my frustration.
Still, I had to pull it off. If I wanted to shape the White Crow Unit into the kind of organization I envisioned.
"Here you go again today."
"Did you find out, big bro?"
Georg was wolfing down bread in a dingy alley, just like last time. I shook my head as I handed him a sandwich.
"Not yet."
"Got it. Thanks."
Disappointment flickered across his grubby face.
"Don't rush it. We'll find your brother soon enough. Anyway, I need some info."
"I never said it was my brother."
I couldn't help chuckling at his guarded tone. I ruffled his hair and plopped down beside him.
"I've got good instincts."
For a newspaper boy scraping by day-to-day without a home, who else could he be looking for but a lost brother?
No, I'd sensed it from the start—his sad, troubled expression, not knowing what to do.
Oscar would've been impressed, but Georg was different. He squinted suspiciously right away.
Like he was wondering why a know-it-all like me hadn't figured it out sooner. I bit back the urge to say I'd have found him ages ago if they lived in District 13.
"I won't tell anyone else."
His expression softened a bit.
"Got it. What info do you need?"
"Anything that helps. Start with your parents' jobs. If they worked somewhere or ran a business, it'd help to know the company name."
Georg hesitated, bowing his head. His hands crushed the sandwich. What a waste.
"...Do you really need to know that?"
"Yes."
After my curt reply, he fell silent for a moment before speaking up.
"My dad ran a newspaper. The Bellett Daily."
"'The World,' huh? Cool name."
"It's gone now. Ossel shut it down for printing bad articles..."
I could hear raw hatred in his quiet voice. I waved it off casually.
"No need to go into it."
I groaned, my joints aching as I stood.
"I'll bring good news next time. Wait for me."
"Thank you."
His polite bow left a bitter taste. We still had a long way to go to get close.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Captain Johann Werner strode down the alley, his boots clicking steadily.
It wasn't a narrow, bumpy, filthy alley.
This affluent part of District 13 featured grand houses spaced apart behind high walls.
A perfect spot for Ossel agents who dealt with noisy business.
Johann paused mid-stride on the impeccably clean street.
Under the dim streetlamp, a bizarre silhouette writhed unnaturally.
Like a monster from some trashy popular horror novel, flailing spindly limbs.
Johann instinctively drew his pistol and approached.
"What are you doing in front of my house?"
"Stretching."
Lucas, in a black coat, arched his back with the gun barrel right in his face, answering flatly.
A small black dog at his feet stood alert, scanning the surroundings.
Johann quietly pinched his brow.
"You should avoid this area as much as possible. Right now, only Lieutenant Decker and I know about your little band of clueless kids, but my colleagues might catch on."
The chilly living room table lacked even guest tea—or peanut crumbs.
Johann crossed his legs elegantly on the sofa, his eyes glinting cruelly. Lucas nodded.
"That's why I try not to come. But I had to today—for a favor."
"A favor?"
"I need to know what happened to the family of The Bellett Daily's publisher, closed down four years ago. Piece of cake for you, right?"
"Cheeky. Why should I?"
"We're in this together—fate-bound."
It was a deeply cynical declaration of love.
"Ha, fate-bound? You're delusional. You and your revolutionary playmates aren't anything special—just cards in my hand, nothing more or less."
His icy refusal dripped with frost, but Lucas grinned wide. The creepy sight gave Johann chills.
"Help me, and you'll devour the White Crow Unit sooner."
"You said you wanted to grow it. Why should I bother helping?"
"No need to play hard to get and jack up your price. I'm not asking for free, obviously."
Bold comeback. Johann smirked.
"What'll you pay?"
"Anything. As long as it doesn't hurt me or the White Crow Unit, I'll grant whatever you want. I'll be your dog—that's the deal."
Johann eyed Lucas coldly.
'Why go this far?'
As far as he knew, Lucas Redan had no reason to grovel like this.
He didn't know the details of The Bellett Daily shutdown. Newspapers and magazines folded over trivia all the time.
Hardly worth begging Ossel on your knees.
Plenty of people loved gossiping about others' misfortunes—you could ask at any nearby shop.
"There's more to it."
Lucas laughed at his frosty tone.
"Of course. This deal lasts until one of us is destroyed."
Johann's clasped hands tightened.
'Damn punk.'
I'll be your dog, so grant my request.
Again and again.
Each time Johann obliged, Lucas would become a useful hound, binding them ever closer into a true 'fate community.'
Just as Lucas wanted.
'Then bite my throat.'
It was trivial, annoying.
But intriguing too.
How far could this thunderbolt fool rampage?
'Fine, I'll play along.'
He nodded curtly. Lucas twisted his lips into a smirk, just like Johann.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I gazed at the scenery drifting slowly past the train window.
The magic train—or rather, this world's train, needing no such label—felt novel.
Earth at this tech level would've had noisy steam locomotives chugging along, but this one skipped steam engines, so no noise. Just the occasional jolt and sway.
Pocket-poor, I rode third class, gripping Georg's shoulder tight amid the crush to keep him from getting squished.
It was Saturday.
Weekdays saw workers heading to Lüdelheim, weekends back home—the train was packed to bursting. The stench of bodies assaulted my nose, paling my face.
Luckily just three hours from Lüdelheim, or I'd have fainted standing stiff.
Vendors hawked snacks through the sardine-tin crowd.
"Want something?"
"No, I'm good."
I ignored him and bought two candies. One for Georg, one wrapped in my handkerchief over my nose to block the smell.
Georg looked as pale as me. Heading to see his brother after four years, it was understandable.
I pulled out the folded paper from my pocket and unfolded it.
'Theodor Roman. Entered Weiss Orphanage Dec 21, 1896. Adopted by Brown family Mar 5, 1897.'
As the train left Lüdelheim, the view outside greened up.
After passing four stations and most passengers disembarking, we reached our rural stop.
Georg said nothing on the carriage ride to the address.
I didn't prod him, just quietly fought motion sickness.
Honestly, his silence was a godsend. Opening my mouth would've meant hurling.
We stepped out to a modest manor.
It looked historic, but no noble ties for the Browns—probably local gentry.
How to ring the bell and explain?
As I rehearsed, Georg, face ashen, walked to the tall spiked fence.
He gripped the bars, peering inside intently.
"Again! Do it again!"
Giggles and a high, joyful voice rang out.
I cautiously peeked through the bars too.
In a garden thick with trees and neatly trimmed grass, a middle-aged man played ball with a eight- or nine-year-old boy.
Theodor resembled his brother yet didn't.
Straw-blond hair and sharp features matched perfectly, but without maturity or scars, he shone innocently.
The man bounced the ball; the boy chased it gleefully.
Unaware of us, they played on, collapsing in laughter on the lawn.
The man soon went inside, leaving the boy wandering the garden.
It didn't take long for the brothers' eyes to meet.
Georg flinched back from the fence. Theodor approached just as eagerly.
With pure, malice-free eyes, he tilted his head at Georg.
"Who are you?"
"I'm—"
"New servant, huh? Hungry? Want this?"
Theodor pulled a small apple from his pocket and poked it through the bars.
Georg hesitated, confused, then took it.
"Thanks."
"Theodor! What are you doing there?"
A middle-aged woman called fondly from an open window. The boy hopped excitedly.
"Snack time! See you later!"
After Theodor bounded off like a rabbit, I looked down at Georg.
"Looks tasty."
He wiped the apple on his sleeve and offered it to me.
"Nah."
We turned and walked away in sync, like we'd planned it. Then I spotted the mailbox by the gate and paused.
It held a weekly from that notoriously pro-Leader yellow press rag.
"Big bro."
Georg spoke up suddenly.
"Do I have the right to ruin Theodor's life?"
His eyes resolute, voice trembling.
I glanced up at the manor, warm under autumn sun.
"Not everyone needs the truth. And even if I went tell that kid everything now, you'd stop me with your dying breath."
He glared at my indifferent reply.
"You always act like such a hotshot? Know everything?"
"Yeah, both."
The boy smiled faintly, as if resigned.