Shadows in the Back Alleys
I didn't want to indulge in mage-bashing, but getting info from the back-alley orphans required some prep work.
My pockets were stuffed with solid gold coins, always yelling "Hand me over, Master!" at the ready.
"Eek…!"
Unfortunately, for kids that young, money was poison.
Rumor spreads that you've got cash? The alley thugs will beat you down and snatch it.
Taking it out to use right away? Merchants will accuse you of stealing and take it anyway.
I'm telling you, I didn't just stumble onto the aesthetics of wealth redistribution for no reason.
This was the average fantasy merchant's personality.
"Here."
Of course, that included me.
I pulled a single silver coin from my pouch and pressed it into the orphan's hand.
The kid froze solid, like he couldn't process this sudden windfall.
Whoa! Stun!
I thought it was just a figure of speech, but seeing it for real was kinda wild.
"I'm not connected to those kidnappers you mentioned. I just wanna hear your story."
After laying out the gist,
I left the orphan—whose brain circuits were clearly fried—and started strolling the streets, buying what I needed.
He wouldn't bolt out of fear. With a fat silver coin in hand, he'd figure I'd chase him down for sure.
"Hmm, what to get…"
Barter was the way to go in the alleys.
Stuff like bread or fruit that you could eat right away was the most universal,
and for building goodwill, I grabbed a few strips of jerky you could stash long-term.
Even I hadn't eaten this pricey stuff often.
Damn, these back-alley kids these days were living large.
"…Huh?"
With a basket crammed full, I headed back to the spot.
The orphan was still frozen in the exact same pose, silver coin in his palm.
…Wait, no. The dirt around his feet looked different—he must've reset his stance right as I approached.
This kid had some guts.
"Here."
"Th-thank you…."
"Thanks…."
I took back the silver and handed over the goods instead. Only then did the orphans start wolfing down the food.
They say even dogs don't touch you when you're eating.
No need to rush them, so I sat a bit away to wait.
"…Is this charity?"
Ailin emerged from the alley and walked over.
Looked like she'd followed Woong-i's traces.
"Eh, more like…investigation, I guess."
"Is something wrong?"
"You saw it on the way in, right? Hardly any kids around."
When I'd first plunged into the alleys blindly, my head was half worry, half curiosity.
Now? Pure fucked.
If merchants were just being stingy and the kids had hunkered down deeper in the alleys, fine.
But actual kidnappings? Gave me the fucking creeps.
Conventional wisdom: anyone playing games with lives is dangerous, anywhere.
I explained the situation to Ailin, and her expression darkened.
"That's why I was worried……but more importantly, you left Sis there? You think she's okay?"
"No need to worry. If anything, the tailors nearby would step in."
"…Tailors? They fight with scissors or something?"
"No, all the tailors there are mages."
"Ah."
Explains why Elena's mana didn't faze her.
She must've been confident she could protect herself if push came to shove.
Not that I'd ever test it, but lesson learned: never mess with her again.
"Um…."
As Ailin and I chatted, the orphans cautiously stood up beside us.
They were offering back the basket with leftovers—trying to return it, probably….
"Do I look that broke?"
"Ah, uh…."
"…Sorry, just kidding."
Sheesh, it was a joke.
Meant it as a light tease, but they looked terrified.
Feeling bad, I ruffled their heads a few times, then lifted the filthy cloth they used as a ceiling.
Sure enough, like the one I'd used back in the day—riddled with holes.
Woong-i.
I mentally nudged my mascot spirit.
-Rustle.
Dirt crept up from the ground, hardening to patch the holes perfectly.
This should keep the wind out. Only an ex-orphan like me would think to fix the little things that matter.
"There, kids! How's that? Pretty good, right…?"
I figured this goodwill boost would make the info flow smoother.
"Ah…."
"……."
But the orphans' faces soured.
Hmm, no explanation needed.
Goodwill straight to rock bottom, huh?
Why, though?
Were the kids already mage-hating like ducal knights?
"That was precious to us…."
"Ah."
"We were careful not to get it dirty…."
"……You did very well."
"……."
I'd assumed they used the holey rag out of desperation.
Turns out it had sentimental value.
Back-alley life had those sometimes.
Like a badge from an adventurer who taught you swordplay before leaving,
or a stone that saved your life in a pinch.
I wasn't one to get attached to mere objects, so I'd forgotten.
Anyway, net goodwill: plus-minus zero.
"Sigh…."
No choice—went and bought another basket.
"Lately, people in black clothes come to the alleys every night…."
"Hmm."
"When they spot a kid, they rush over super fast, knock 'em out, scoop 'em up, and take 'em away…."
"Whoa."
"The kids who got taken never came back…and after it happened a few times, all the alley kids hid deep inside."
"Damn."
"…You're making me nervous—can you knock off the reactions?"
Meant as tension-breakers, but apparently not needed.
I slumped my shoulders with a disappointed look,
and summoned Woong-i into physical form.
-Woong.
"Whoa…!"
"So cute…."
Cuteness was the ultimate fix for everything.
The palm-sized brown furball popped out, and the kids' faces lit up.
Woong-i's charm was on a currency level if I wanted it to be.
As the kids poked and gently petted him,
"…If I'd pulled out Woong-i from the start, no need for the food, huh?"
Uncomfortable truth, but whatever.
Call it charity, like Ailin said.
Before leaving, I had Woong-i seal the gaps in their box-house with dirt.
Asked if it had backstory too—just in case—but nope, all good.
Thus upgraded their living standards a notch, and while at it, gave a solid lecture on why spirit arts beat knights and mages.
Waved goodbye and slipped out of the alley.
"…What now?"
"Gonna need backup first."
"If you're reporting to the Duke, I can do it for you."
"Nah, not that…."
Of course I'd report to the Duke eventually.
But rashly deploying knights? They might catch wind and bolt.
To handle this right….
"Need Arwen's help."
"…Arwen? You think mages are behind this?"
"Yeah, probably."
"I'm not so sure…but mind sharing why?"
"Oh, you don't know…."
"……?"
The kids had already spilled the evidence.
People in black? Anyone could pull off a hood at night in the alleys.
Rush in and subdue? Plenty of ways to knock out one kid.
This was gritty medieval fantasy.
But that's what made it suspicious.
"You said they scooped 'em up in their arms, right?"
"That's your reason…?"
"If you had to kidnap a passed-out kid in front of you, how'd you do it?"
"Carefully pick 'em up to hide it……ah?"
Bellmere was a trade hub.
Cargo markets boomed, manpower was gold.
Job-hunters ended up toughened by hard labor.
Plus, in a world where monsters or bandits could end you if you slacked, adventurers to wagon-driving merchants all had baseline physicals.
Hell, Teresa lifted me one-handed when we met.
Not sure orphanages needed that, but anyway.
Folks needing to kidnap for some goal, yet too weak to hoist a single fainted kid without cradling?
"Who else but mages?"
"Makes sense, but…."
Could be wrong.
I wasn't some detective novel protag—just fitting the pieces.
Hence, Arwen.
"If they used magic during the snatch, like you said before, there'd be traces."
"Mana traces…Arwen could find 'em."
"Worth a shot, right?"
Better than sitting—bring her, check.
No dice? Narrow the options, investigate more.
Result's a win either way.
"Ah, yep—mana traces."
"…For real?"
"Yeah. They tried hiding it…but time doesn't lie, traces stick around."
Back at the mansion, dropped Elena, picked up Arwen—hassle over.
Luckily, no more time wasted; Arwen confirmed my hunch.
Culprit: mage. Shady enough to snatch orphans from alleys.
But.
"Can you track it?"
"Hmm…sorry, unique color mixed in. Even I can't."
Sudden unfamiliar term.
Unique color? What's that?
Gimme the basics!
"Basically, it's a trait unique to certain mages."
"Different from elements?"
"Elements are just groupings of similar spells—book stuff anyone can learn. But…."
"…If that was all, knights wouldn't struggle against high mages."
Ailin cut in, annoyed.
She'd been grumpy since…wait, really?
"Fixed spells, fixed processes. Same results no matter who casts—boring fights. No reason high mages would give knights trouble."
"Hmm…our Ailin's still hung up on that, huh?"
"…If they hadn't pulled dirty tricks, I'd have won."
"Nah, come on. That's skill too, right? Like you say—train like it's real battle?"
"……."
Even trusty Ailin mage-hating?
…No, Arwen-specific?
Never met other mages, but from the convo, sounds like she fought one once and lost by a hair….
"…Can we save the rematch and explain first?"
"Oh, right. Was in the middle."
"……."
Not my fanboy, good.
"Unique color's literally that—an alien power unique to the mage. Lucky me, I've got one; watch."
Arwen flicked her finger in the air.
-Fwoosh.
A fireball appeared.
"Basic fire magic. Add my unique color?"
The floating fireball shimmered colors,
then—
-Sizzle.
—plopped to the ground and vanished.
…What?
"Mine's liquefaction—makes fire magic flow like fluid. Looks meh, but it's solid."
"…Gotcha, roughly."
Fire magic like water.
That's…lava.
Arwen was top-tier among Red Tower mages.
Lava beats fire, duh.
"Same spell, different results per unique color."
"Oho."
"One kid might chain-explode embers…another spreads low like burning earth."
Oh, domain expansion.
Mages had dreams after all.
If I'd had talent, I'd ditch swords for magic.
Of course, saying it aloud would bum Ailin out, so nah.
"Anyway, Red Tower can't help here."
"Can't track the perp?"
"No, wrong element—our specialty. This screams…Blue Tower."
Blue Tower—water?
Did they drown the kids or what?
"Mind-attack unique colors are Blue Tower turf."
"Mind attacks? Shouldn't we call priests then?"
"Hard to explain…but human minds are like the sea. Drowning vibe's close to the essence."
Huh, no clue.
Mana-less scrub here, so I nodded.
"Know a mage expert on this—I'll write her, call her over."
"Yeah, please."
Grab the perp, mage or knight—whoever.
A few days later,
a blue-haired mage showed at the mansion. Female, around my age.
"Hi! You're that ducal bastard from the rumors, right?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I'm Tara! Here as the Tower Lord's disciple—call me casual?"
"Already are."
"Ahaha, true! …Whoa, a spirit? Cute!"
Too bubbly for a tower shut-in researcher.
But something creeped me out.
Like…mid-performance vibes. That sticky feeling, y'know?
"Water? Or a bath?"
-Woong….
Every move dripped hidden madness.
And crucially,
"Huh? Something wrong?"
Her eyes were faintly dead.
Two possibilities: acting crazy, or actually crazy.
My gut screamed the latter.
"…Where's Arwen?"
"Arwen? Said she had business, headed to Red Tower!"
"Ah."
I clutched my pounding head.
…Fuck, I said bring a mage—not a psycho bitch!
Get out of my house! Right now!