Scary Uncles
Deep into the night, a mercenary band was in the middle of a raucous feast at the Red Moon Inn.
Their business in the central city had gone better than expected, and they had raked in a small fortune because of it. With plans to leave the Central Empire the next morning and head for the next town, this was also a chance to cut loose before the hard road ahead. Who knew when the next opportunity would come? A proper rest did wonders for morale.
Beorn, the leader of the mercenary band, smiled and turned to the new recruit sitting beside him.
"Not bad. What kind of drink is this?"
"Ah, that would be beer, sir."
"You idiot! That's not what I asked!"
"Ugh!"
Still green, the recruit clearly lacked any sense of the room. The man next to him smacked him upside the head.
Beorn's expression never changed. He simply wore an easy smile, as if such things were only to be expected, and cast his gaze over his men.
"Khh—it's my fault for not training the new blood properly! Give me the chance to answer instead!"
"Fine. Speak."
"This is the wine of victory, filled with all the blood and sweat we've poured into the central city until now!"
"Ho. The wine of victory, is it?"
Beorn swirled the golden liquid in his wooden cup. A veteran’s answer really was different. Apparently satisfied, he raised his cup high—clearly signaling a toast.
"You've got a point. This is a celebration of everything we pulled off in the central city, after all. Right?"
"Yes, sir!"
As he lifted his cup, the others around the table followed one by one. Dull wooden clacks rang out as the cups knocked together. After a brief toast, Beorn drained his cup to the bottom in one go—the bold, hearty way of a true mercenary captain.
"Khaah!"
He set the cup down and wiped his mouth, then swept his half-lidded yet still sharp eyes over the gathered men. Something seemed to sit wrong with him. He was smiling, but there was an edge of displeasure beneath it.
"Now that I look, there are empty seats. Something happen?"
"Edwin and a few of the others brought women up to their rooms, sir."
"Women?"
Beorn's face shifted for a moment. He seemed to run the numbers in his head, weighing something carefully.
And then—
"Should we call them out and teach them a lesson?"
"No. Leave it."
Finished with his calculations, Beorn waved a hand with a thin, crooked smile.
"Talis. We were leaving the central city tomorrow morning, weren't we?"
"That's right."
"Round up every last woman they took into those rooms and sell them all to the slave traders."
I dreamed.
Or perhaps it was reality.
That day, too, I killed an innocent person and ate them. Why? There was no reason. I was simply hungry.
Just as they had not wanted to die, I had wanted to live. The truth was, I hadn't really wanted to kill anyone either—though that was a secret I could never tell a soul.
In the dream I walked an alley slick with blood, the same blood spilled by the people who had screamed as they died by my hand. A faint reflection of myself stared up from a pool of it: a white monster with blood smeared around its mouth.
Whose voice had I mimicked yesterday to lure a human in?
Worn down by crushing hunger, I had sung of someone's weakness again. That this voice would be impossible to ignore. That this form would be impossible not to approach.
I would show the people who wandered near the back alleys only their most painful memories. The reflection in the dream was the same.
The white monster lured humans into the deepest parts of the alley, and the ones who fell under its spell stepped farther and farther into the dark.
I grabbed the person walking deeper into that alley.
If you go that way, you'll die. The one waiting ahead isn't the person you know.
But he shook off my hand and kept walking. He must have known the truth deep down, and simply wanted to deny it. Maybe he wanted to meet the person from his memories just once, even if it killed him.
What happened next was exactly as expected.
The white monster slaughtered the man who came to it with merciless cruelty.
That was as far as the dream's memory went.
I opened my eyes to the feel of cold stone against my skin.
Wait—cold stone?
"……"
An unfamiliar ceiling.
The place I had woken was neither a warm room nor a soft bed. It was far darker, far damper. The chill of the stone floor bit into my bare skin. No sound from outside reached me—underground, then? I decided to take stock of my surroundings.
"H-hey, boss. Are we really okay doing this? If the knights come after us…"
"Relax, you idiot. Anything's legal as long as you don't get caught. And if we do get caught, so what? We're clearing out of the central city before sunrise tomorrow."
"That so?"
"Yeah. One last big score before we leave. The knights are too busy chasing those back-alley disappearances to notice a thing. Perfect timing to make a move."
It was a damp, faintly unpleasant prison cell. Moss-slick stone walls and the iron bars that held me stood out clearly. With nothing better to do, I listened to the voices outside.
"So what did you feed that girl to keep her out cold the whole way here? The white-haired one."
"Huh? I didn't feed her anything. She was just sleeping. In the bed."
"Sleeping in the bed? Haha! What a crazy bitch."
Hm.
They couldn't be talking about me… could they?
Either way, I had a fair idea of the situation. I must have been kidnapped while sleeping in the room I'd taken last night.
Beyond the bars I could see others bound and waiting. Some of them already bore slave brands.
Slave traders?
A reasonable enough guess. If they had taken me for profit, I couldn't think of anything else.
Feeling the restraints on my wrists and ankles, I pushed myself upright. Other people lay bound and unconscious in the same cell; I was the only one awake. From the look of things, they had used some kind of drug.
When I turned my head a little farther, my eyes met a man's. Not bald—just some stranger I had never seen before.
"What. You're awake? You should've stayed asleep a little longer."
"……"
"You've been kidnapped, you know that?"
I nodded. Waking up in a strange place with your hands and feet tied was a pretty clear sign to anyone.
"Seriously, how are you this calm after getting kidnapped?"
"……?"
"Hey. You ignoring me?"
I had no idea what reaction he wanted from me. Was I supposed to pretend to be scared? Acting had never been my strong suit, so I didn't bother.
I simply looked up at his face. Whatever had soured his mood, his features were twisted into a deep scowl.
"Still don't get it, huh? From now on you're getting sold at a slave auction. Understand?"
He drew a dagger from his belt and held it near my face. He probably had no real intention of stabbing me—that would lower the merchandise's value. It didn't look particularly threatening either. I wouldn't die from a sword wound in the first place.
Still, if I failed to react again his pride would take a hit, so I decided to be considerate.
"I'm scared."
I had heard that ordinary humans grew frightened when a blade was pressed to their face. That was probably the reaction he wanted.
To make the performance a little more convincing, I swayed my body gently. Terrified people trembled, after all.
Sway, sway.
Worried I might invite unnecessary suspicion, I shook myself with earnest effort.
Was that the wrong approach? The mercenary's face flushed deep red.
"You little shit! This isn't a fucking joke—"
"Hey. That's enough."
The man finally lost his temper and tried to swing the knife, only to be stopped by someone else—his superior, from the look of it.
"You know how much a girl just turned twenty is worth? What are you gonna do if the boss finds out?"
"Tch. Fucking bitch."
The scrawny man sheathed his knife with a string of curses. So he wasn't going to stab me after all. If he had, I would have let him land the blow and then killed him. Cleaning up afterward would have been a hassle, but wiping out everyone here and escaping wouldn't have been difficult.
It was fortunate things hadn't gone that far. Blood was hard to get out of a white uniform.
Because of that, I didn't particularly want to kill anyone.
"You—next time, you little shit."
"……"
Even as he turned to leave, the scrawny man threw one last threat my way. I swayed my body again to show how terrifying I found it.
Of course he wasn't actually frightening, but the reaction I got from such a small movement was entertaining enough that I couldn't stop.
"That fucking—ugh, forget it."
He started back toward me with the knife still in hand, then thought better of it. Apparently he wanted to avoid a pointless emotional fight.
Once the scrawny man was gone, only his superior remained. The sharp-faced man had been watching me the whole time without saying a word, which was boring. The heavy silence made me want to leave.
If I put just a little strength into it, I could probably break these.
I looked down at the restraints binding my hands and feet, considering how best to free myself and get out. I applied a gentle pressure to the bonds around my wrists.
—Clang!
And they snapped.
Easier than I expected.
The loud crack of breaking chains made the watching man's expression change completely.
"Y-you—what the hell are you?!"
He had been so needlessly serious and dull before, but the look of pure shock on his face was rather worth seeing.
I snapped the restraints on both ankles as well and stood up. He was staring straight into my eyes.
"Adrian."
I spoke his name. From his reaction, he clearly wanted to ask how I knew it.
I had no intention of telling him. He wouldn't remember any of this day anyway.
"How pitiful. Your lover died two years ago, and the grief still hasn't left you."
"H-how do you know that…?"
I bent the iron bars of the underground cell with my bare hands and stepped out. Adrian recoiled as if terrified of me.
I had business with him, so I approached—but he scrambled backward to match every step I took.
"W-what is this?! I can't move my body!"
So I had no choice but to restrain him. I had only wanted to make things easier for him; it was his own fault for running.
I walked slowly toward the bound Adrian. With every step, terror flooded his face.
This might actually be enjoyable.
"Aaaagh! Stay away!!"
Adrian trembled violently from head to toe, far more naturally than my own earlier swaying. So that was what a skilled demonstration of fear looked like.
When I reached him I brushed his cheek, holding his face so that our eyes met.
"You're lucky. I'm not hungry today."
At that close distance, the strength drained from his body. I had shown him an illusion. Soon he would forget everything about me as well.
I gently closed his eyes with my hand. He would be having a happy dream—meeting his dead lover, talking about who knew what.
I was a little curious, but I had no desire to pry into someone else's private life.
I turned away without lingering. Adrian collapsed bonelessly where he stood.
"Well then. Sweet dreams."
Whenever he might open his eyes again.
I received some fan art.
Thank you.