[The Relief]
I didn't think I needed the kind of bureaucratic savvy that was so useful in places like this, but the bitter taste in my mouth came from the realization that this kind of pathetic reality looks the same regardless of the era or the world.
I could roughly guess how things were running, but I still needed to go through the motions of a minimal verification process. I gathered the kids around and spoke to the boy who had been acting as their guardian.
“Can we talk for a moment?”
“...Who are you?”
“They aren't your biological siblings, right? Those kids from earlier.”
“I asked who you are.”
The boy’s guarded gaze was quite firm.
A good pair of eyes.
“Someone who’s here to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed sharply at once.
Still, a good pair of eyes.
That’s right. You have to be on guard.
The advice to be wary of strangers felt even more relevant in this world. In a land where the word "human rights" didn't even exist, it was only natural for the value of a child to be slashed in half the moment they were seen.
So, it was smart to start by doubting the goodwill of a stranger.
“Those children earlier—do they have no guardians, or is it better that they don’t?”
Whether he liked it or not, Aiden did what he had to do. Even though he liked the boy’s guarded demeanor, there was no reason for him to be the one to lower that guard.
That’s how public service works. It’s nice to be kind, but finishing the job is far more important than kindness. Some people occasionally say that public service is a service industry, but public service is just that—public service. Service leaves behind a mood, but public service must leave behind a record.
Must not forget the essence.
So, Aiden continued with an even drier gaze and a businesslike tone.
“The Life Support Department of the Administrative Welfare Office surely distributed a sufficient amount of food. For households with children, the elderly, or the sick, even if it was small, additional supplies like milk, cheese, or eggs should have been provided. So why are those children starving?”
“How would I know?”
“The officials from the Technical Labor Department must have come by as well. That much is certain, just by looking at how easily a kid like you found a place to sell your labor. They wouldn't have failed to connect those who can work to places that need hands, so why are there able-bodied men lying around in the sunny spots over there, killing time?”
“...I don’t know.”
“There was even someone reeking of alcohol. It’s obvious that not a single drop of alcohol should be in the relief goods, so where did that come from?”
“......”
The boy thought. This cold beauty in front of him clearly seemed to know the answer. But he didn't know why he was asking him.
“Do you need a witness?”
It was an answer he’d arrived at after racking his small brain. “If I step up as a witness, can you take responsibility for my siblings, sir?”
At the audacious attitude, the corners of Aiden’s mouth, which hadn't moved, curled up slightly. It was because he realized that while it sounded like a question, it wasn't actually one.
“You know, sir. For people like us, who barely manage to get a piece of bread and still have to worry about the next day’s meal, if we blindly grab at half-baked goodwill just because we’re happy, we fall straight into the abyss.”
I thought it was the worst, but I found out there was a hell beneath it.
He added that, too.
“Thirteen? Fourteen?”
“Fifteen.”
“You’re small.”
“If you don’t eat, you’re naturally small.”
“Men grow late, too.”
“Then I guess I’m going to grow late.”
“Yeah. I think so. I think you’ll grow, even if it’s late.”
“Can you tell just by looking?”
“Not always, but you—your hands and feet are big. Compared to your height. Usually, people like that grow more.”
“Ah—.”
At those words, the boy spread his palms forward and looked down at them. It would be really nice if I grew a bit more. If his body grew, he could at least get into some mercenary group as a porter for odd jobs. He’d heard in passing that even if it was dangerous, you could handle much more money than doing farm labor.
“No matter how much you glare, you won’t grow taller just like that.”
“I’m just standing here, why are you picking a fight?”
“Not a fight, advice.”
“Yes?”
“You’re right. Does life change just by relying on half-baked goodwill? You’ll only end up frustrated.”
“......”
Tap.
Aiden gave the boy a small flick to the forehead.
“But listen. That’s not something kids need to worry about or agonize over. Kids just need to act like kids.”
I’m hungry. The adults take the bread. That’s why my siblings keep crying. They trade the bread meant for the kids for alcohol, gamble, and buy leaf tobacco to smoke.
“Like that.”
“...If it gets out that I said things like that, I won’t be able to stay in this camp anymore. And if I’m not here, the kids will starve.”
“What about your parents?”
“They passed away.”
“The kids you were with earlier, too?”
“Some are, some aren’t.”
Aiden let out a long sigh without realizing it. The shape of poverty truly makes his heart ache every time he encounters it. He can never get used to it. Everyone is starving, feeling wronged, struggling, and in pain in the same way. To others, the shape of poverty always looks the same.
But when you look closely, why are the stories all so different?
Is it crueler for children who lost their parents to have their next meal stolen in the face of the terror of violence? Or is it crueler to pray for the quick death of parents who sell their own children’s bread to buy alcohol? Aiden bit down on the soft flesh inside his mouth, barely holding back tears. It was because he realized that the cruelest thing of all was the lightless eyes of children who had resigned themselves to all this unfairness and were holding their breath.
“Don’t worry. There won’t be any need to put you forward as a witness.”
“...Yes.”
“But don’t be disappointed, because that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave things as they are.”
“Yes?”
“Keep being wary of strangers, just like you are now. That’s good. But don’t miss out on the kindness of those who are obligated to be kind, rather than kindness born of pity.”
“People who are obligated to be kind? Where would someone like that exist? Maybe if they were a saint or a holy person.”
“Why, they’re there. People who live in places like that.”
Aiden extended a finger and pointed far away.
“Where?”
The boy’s eyes instinctively followed where the finger was pointing. The person with the beautiful face and black hair tied up messily was pointing toward the village where the Lord’s Castle was located. The village under the castle, where dense, surprisingly large buildings could occasionally be seen. But the boy couldn't be sure exactly where the man’s finger was pointing, so he agonized over it for a long time.
“So, where in the village are you talking about?”
When he turned back to ask exactly where he meant, the man had already disappeared. The boy thought he must have been bewitched by something.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The next afternoon.
The boy, who had been up since dawn to sell his labor at the ranch, was smiling incessantly despite his skin being reddened by the sun.
“It’s a relief. They must have thought well of us. They told us to come back tomorrow.”
“Yeah, brother. That’s a relief.”
“The meal I had today was delicious, too, brother.”
“Me too.”
The owner of the ranch was said to be a demi-human called a Goblin. He was shorter than them, but much older. When asked his exact age, he just laughed, “Uhehehe,” saying it was a secret, which was refreshing just to watch.
Ranch work wasn't easy. Since it was a newly established place, there was a lot to take care of. The boy thought that must be why they were able to find jobs for kids like them, and felt relieved, but then felt a bit sorry for the Goblin owner, so he worked even harder.
“Eat this and get to work!”
He had brought a piece of black bread to eat if he got hungry while working. But what was this? The ranch owner, who laughed with that strange sound, brought out a tin bucket that was still steaming and went around shouting for the workers to eat.
Everyone except the boy and his two younger siblings sat down habitually, received a heap of noodles in wooden bowls, ladled plenty of sauce from the tin bucket, and started their meal in a comfortable spot.
“Uhehe. Such a silly expression. Why are you standing there like that? Hurry up and eat. You can’t work if you’re hungry.”
The Goblin owner also sat down with the workers and shared the food he had brought. The children, who had been as energetic as adults while working, were suddenly flustered by the unexpected kindness, becoming stiff and awkward in every movement.
But the children had a warm meal for the first time in a while. After the younger boy who came with him finished eating his fill of spaghetti, he glanced around and muttered to himself, “I want to eat more...”
“Where did a little mouse like you put all that? You’re going to burst!”
Hearing that, the Goblin laughed with another strange sound, “Ukyakyakya,” and generously ladled more food onto the small boy’s empty bowl.
When they finished their day’s work and were heading home:
“This is what’s left, do you want to take it?”
“If not, that’s fine.”
At the words of the demi-human dwarf, the children excitedly packed the remaining noodles and sauce and returned to the camp. Thinking about calling his siblings out in secret and feeding them warm food made him smile, even though his body was exhausted.
But what was this?
“Oh! Oh, why are you doing this, sir!”
“What are you doing? Drag them away immediately!”
“Yes!”
“Eek! Please spare me, I was wrong, please spare me!”
What the children encountered upon arriving at the camp were stern-faced officials and soldiers. And in front of them, the people who had been someone’s guardians—though they had protected no one—were groveling and trembling.
“We found it! We have confirmed that all the relief goods that were not distributed and were being hoarded are inside their tents.”
“What about the testimony of the merchant who supplied the alcohol and tobacco leaves?”
“Confirmed as well. It is the same person as the owner of the tent.”
“Nothing more to see here.”
Because it wasn't a sophisticated embezzlement, but a low-level scheme carried out through violence and verbal abuse, the fact that they hadn't distributed the relief goods according to the set standards was revealed in an instant.
The officials from the Life Support Department shrugged their shoulders at an investigation that wasn't even enough to be a post-meal snack. But soon, they clicked their tongues at the sight of frightened eyes peeking out from between the tents—tents that were closer to rags than anything that could properly block the wind, unlike the thick, stiff tents of those who had embezzled the goods.
“Oh, sir! It’s not like that—!”
“H-here, this isn’t much, but—!”
The people groveling at their feet quickly tried to sneakily offer a pouch from their robes, but—
“Bribery charge added.”
Aigoo. Our Lord hates things like this so much. If you get caught with this, huh? You really have to hang, you know.
Seeing the officials jumping around and trying to avoid even touching the offered pouch as if it were causing a plague, the criminals, who had been drunk since midday, felt the world go dark before their eyes.
“Escort them.”
“Yes, we’ll be going first.”
The criminals, their hands and feet tied in a line, were dragged away by the soldiers. Until then, the boy had been busy racking his small brain while clutching the tin bucket containing the leftover pasta to his chest.
Now that those guys have been dragged away, who will be the next leader?
He hoped that person would at least leave them enough bread for one meal a day. Harboring such a small wish.
“Alright. We’re starting the census again. No, no. It’s individual visits. Go inside your tents right now and wait!”
But the officials, whom he thought would leave the camp immediately, said something strange. He pricked up his ears.
“You heard the Lord, right? Start by checking the environment inside the tents. If the documents match reality. If there are any sick people. How the living conditions are. If there is a will to work. If there are any signs of domestic violence. Huh? Please, let’s do this properly.”
“Yes!”
“Ugh. Seriously. It would be better to get beaten up by Sir Jamie. I almost bit my tongue and died from that piercing gaze of the Lord. Let’s do well, let’s!”
“...Yes!”
The incomprehensible conversation of the disciplined officials. The boy looked toward the place the black-haired man he met yesterday had pointed to. The castle with a solid high spire standing firmly above the village, which the adults used to mock as the base of savages while drunk, finally came into his view.