Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: First Footsteps (2)
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“Who's the Mole?”
The innocently naive question left everyone staring at Oliver in silence.
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...”
After a long stretch of quiet, someone finally burst into laughter.
“Puhahaha! Khkhkhk... Who's the Mole?”
“Uh, yeah. Who's that? Seems like a person, I guess?”
“Seems like a person...? Haha! Of course it's a person. He's the big shot making waves around here lately... Hey, you really think this guy's one of the Mole's underlings? He doesn't even know who the Mole is?”
“Well, he could be lying, right?”
“Yeah, he could be lying. Or maybe he really doesn't know. Look at his face. Does he look smart enough to lie?”
The man named Cant grabbed Oliver's face with his calloused hands, showing no sense of personal space whatsoever.
He was surprisingly strong for how he looked.
Seeing Oliver's blank expression, the pursuers seemed convinced—or maybe deflated—and lost some of their steam.
“No... but still, what if he really doesn't know?”
“Sure, sure, what if. But even so—”
“—Mr. Cant... We owe you a lot, but letting him go like this feels a bit... You know how uneasy things have been lately.”
Oliver couldn't follow their conversation, but he could tell they were all feeling anxious, jittery, and afraid.
Even the man named Cant seemed to agree to some extent.
Is something bad going on?
“Hmm... I get what you're saying. I do... How about this?”
“Pardon? How?”
“I'll take this kid with me.”
“What? What do you...”
“I'll take him. If he's suspicious, I'll give him a good thrashing myself. Deal?”
Cant waved his wooden staff as he spoke.
The pursuers visibly panicked at that.
“No, that's ridiculous...”
“Ridiculous? This is my compromise. What, you don't trust me?”
“N-no, why wouldn't we trust you, Mr. Cant?”
“Then what's the problem? I'll keep an eye on him. You can relax, right? I'm asking again—don't you trust me? Damn, you're making me sad.”
The relentless pressure wore them down.
In the end, Oliver's pursuers hesitated before backing off.
“...Fine. We do owe you one. We'll trust you with him. But if this guy causes any trouble, we won't let it slide next time.”
“Thanks! Appreciate it... Knew you guys would trust me. I'm about to shed tears of gratitude here. Here, take this as my personal thank-you. Come on, take it.”
Cant pulled a few bills from his pocket and stuffed them forcefully into their clothes.
They protested that it wasn't necessary, but eventually accepted with feigned reluctance under his repeated insistence.
“Ah... You really don't have to. Well, we'll be going then.”
“Yeah, take care. Come find me if you run into any trouble. Good seeing you.”
With an almost jovially bright attitude, Cant saw them off.
Once they were gone, only Cant and Oliver remained on the street.
Oliver sensed it—the emotions departing one by one now that this man was by his side.
He really isn't ordinary.
“...Hey? Hey! You listening to me?”
Snapping back to reality, Oliver saw Cant snapping his fingers right in front of him.
“Do you always zone out like that?”
“Ah... Sorry. I was scared.”
“Scared? Hmm... You don't look it.”
“I'm just... Anyway, thank you for helping me. You saved my life.”
“Oh, so you do get that much. If he really was sent by the Mole, you'd have been beaten half to death. Even if not, they'd have stripped you down to your underwear. You should be grateful.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Oliver immediately bowed his head deeply in thanks. It was a survival tactic he'd learned at the mine and the orphanage.
Fortunately, it worked—the corners of Cant's mouth twitched upward.
“On that note, where are you from?”
“...From Wineham.”
“Wineham? Oh... People still live there, huh. So why'd a kid from Wineham come to Randa? To X District, no less?”
“Circumstances...”
“Circumstances... huh.”
Cant muttered as he eyed Oliver up and down.
A worn jacket shiny from long use, shoes caked in dust.
He nodded as if he'd already guessed the story.
“...Where are your parents?”
“Gone.”
“Yeah? No parents... Then why come here? I'm dying to know. Even V District doesn't see many outsiders, let alone X. Super curious now.”
Oliver didn't answer right away. Instead, he met Cant's gaze.
The scruffy man hadn't shaved properly, but his eyes held the same sharp insight as the Pharmacist or James.
Oliver's instincts told him a vague answer wouldn't cut it. But spilling everything straight wouldn't work either.
“...Someone I owe a debt to from the past lives here, they said... I came hoping to meet them again.”
“Who?”
“...Someone who helped me back then.”
“...I see. Did you meet them?”
“Mm... No.”
“...Why'd you want to meet them?”
“I wanted to ask for advice.”
“Advice on what?”
“Mm... This is my first time out in the world alone, so I had questions about everything. I don't know much.”
“...First time out in the world? You seem scatterbrained, but you talk so elegantly.”
“Thank you?”
“Ha... No parents, came to Randa alone... Something happen?”
“Well... various things.”
“Various things... Haha, you're one suspicious, weird kid.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah... Let me ask again. Very seriously, for your sake too. Answer honestly.”
Oliver met Cant's eyes and replied.
“...Yes.”
“Do you really not know who the Mole is?”
His piercing eyes gleamed with insight, just like the Pharmacist or James.
“Yes, I don't... Who's that?”
“He's around. A real nasty piece of work... Got anywhere to go?”
Oliver glanced toward the opposite side of X District—the park where he'd met Joseph.
Hot dog stands, ice cream booths, the fountain, the baby angel statue, people filled with joy and leisure.
That was the plan, but facing this enigmatic man, his interest suddenly waned.
“Mm... No, not really.”
“Nowhere to go... No place to stay tonight, obviously?”
“Uh... Yeah.”
“I see... Ha...”
Cant scratched his stubbly chin, looking troubled. He felt a small inner conflict.
“Mm... Damn, I must be crazy. You don't even look that much like him... Kid. If you really got nowhere, come with me. Nights are getting cold soon.”
“...”
“Whatever, don't if you don't want to.”
“...If it's okay, may I ask a question?”
“Ask a question? So polite. I like polite kids. Shoot. What, worried I'm gonna kidnap you and sell you to a farm?”
“No... I know there's no malice. I know you're just purely trying to help. Thank you truly.”
“...”
“But I've never met anyone like that before. Someone who helps purely... May I ask why you're helping?”
“Dunno... Why, huh? Beats me. Let's say I made a big score today and I'm in a good mood. Anyway, what's it gonna be? Coming or not? Just say that.”
Oliver looked back across the way again. There were no ulterior motives in his emotions.
“...If you'll allow it, I'd like to follow.”
“You talk real pretty. Alright, come on then.”
Oliver followed Cant.
With each step, his staff thumped against the ground—thack-thack.
Beggars and a few thugs they passed on the street either greeted him warmly or averted their eyes.
“Hello there! Mr. Cant.”
“Hey, good to see you.”
“Heading back from work?”
“Work? Nah, just collecting pay.”
As they passed several people, Cant turned and asked,
“Not curious where we're going?”
“Pardon? Ah... I am.”
“Sure you are... You always this fearless?”
Cant's question was perfectly reasonable.
Even leaving X District for the somewhat better W District, it was still a low-security slum. And Cant was leading them to increasingly deserted, creepy spots.
A situation where even adults would grow suspicious and fearful, let alone a child.
Yet Oliver showed no sign of unease.
From Cant's perspective, the kid was downright bizarre.
“...I'm actually pretty scared of things.”
“Oh yeah? FYI, I hate liars.”
“Not lying. I hate pain, fear dying, and lots of other scary stuff.”
“Everyone's scared of pain and death. Except some weirdos with fetishes, but that's beside the point.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, good lord... You always talk like this? It's messing with my head.”
“...Someone told me that once. Said I was broken.”
“Did they? Good read. Who was it?”
“Ah, well—”
“—Hey, there he is?!”
As Oliver started to answer, a loud voice cut in from somewhere.
Turning toward the sound, they saw a man and a young boy.
The man was middle-aged, face wrinkled like a prune, nose bulbous, pate completely bald.
The boy had bright blond hair, wearing an oversized coat and shoes that didn't fit.
“Cant! Cant! Cant! Leader of our beggar gang, Cant!”
The man practically shoved the boy aside as he rushed up to Cant.
His goofy hee-hee grin and red nose screamed alcoholic.
He kept babbling on.
“You're finally back. Finally... So glad you're safe!”
“Yeah, good to see you. Heading back from work?”
“Work? Me? Haha! Haven't worked since 20 years ago! That was him. Him! Right?!”
The red-nosed man pointed at the blond kid.
The blond boy smiled innocently and bowed to Cant, who returned the gesture.
“If you're back safe, that means our boss brought home the cash, right? Come on, show this red nose how much. Hurry up.”
“Looking at you, seems like you're running low on booze again.”
“I'm always short on booze! So how much'd you make?”
“Later. Later. Gotta check with everyone together so no gossip.”
“Ah... Fair! Fine. Then can I ask something else?”
“Always thought you talk too much, but even more today. What?”
“Who's the punk?!”
The red-nosed man pointed dramatically at Oliver.
Cant glanced at Oliver silently before speaking.
“This punk? Eh... Picked up a stray kid on the way.”
“What, like a puppy? Hey, kid. What's your name?”
The red-nosed man leaned in uncomfortably close.
Despite his foolish expression, his eyes gleamed sharply—not quite as keen as Cant's, but close.
As if peering right through whether Oliver was lying or not.
Oliver met his gaze steadily and spoke calmly.
“I'm Oliver. Just arrived from Wineham.”