The Pied Piper's Second Act
Thomas, his head pierced through, should have lost his grip on the rope and plummeted to the floor, his forehead blooming with dark crimson blood as he sank into eternal silence. That is how it should have been—a cooling corpse left behind in the dust. But the body of the young boy, Thomas, did not remain. Only the carcasses of two rats, riddled with holes, lay there, while tiny, living rats scurried out from the remains and scattered in every direction.
"Aaaaaaaah!!!!"
"That... catch that thing!!!!"
"Thomas!!!!"
"You bitch, you killed Thomas! My son!"
Women screamed at the surreal sight of a human transforming into a swarm of rats. Others ran about in a blind panic, shouting that the vermin must not be allowed to live. A child sobbed, calling out the name of a friend who had just turned into a rodent, while parents turned their grief into murderous rage against the killer. It was a crucible of chaos, a pandemonium of human misery. The building was already overcrowded, and with this new frenzy, it became a living hell; a man tripped while trying to stomp on a rat, only to be trampled by a dozen others who didn't care whose head, shoulder, or knee they were crushing underfoot.
Pinochia looked down at the scene and sighed. "What is it? Why is it so loud? The ones fighting the rats outside are quiet enough."
"The rats are eating people and mimicking them. I caught one, and now everyone is like this. It seems there are more of them, so I shall go down for a moment."
Gretel frowned, her brow furrowing at the unpleasant sensation creeping up from below.
"Eek..." Sophia, who had watched from above as a man was shot and transformed into rats, trembled violently.
Pinochia leaped from the hole in the roof. As she landed, she crushed several rats beneath her boots.
"Squeeeeeak!!!!"
The sharp, piercing shrieks of the rats being ground into the floor echoed through the room. Ignoring the terrified gazes of the villagers, Pinochia scanned the area with her dark brown eyes, searching for more rats masquerading as humans. With a faint, mechanical whirring sound inaudible to anyone else, the components behind her pupils shifted her vision.
'Thermal imaging... no, vibration detection would be better.'
In this situation, vibration detection was superior. No matter how perfectly a swarm of small rats mimicked a human, the vibrations generated by their movement were fundamentally different.
Bang! Bang!
Before anyone could even speak, Pinochia pulled the trigger twice. There was no need for persuasion. Actions spoke louder than words. Hot blood erupted from the chest and head of the target.
"Squeak!"
"Squeeeak!"
What had been a human collapsed, crumbling into a pile of rats.
"If you continue to make such a racket, I might mistake you for rats and shoot you as well, so be careful," Pinochia warned coldly, aiming her smoking barrel at the trembling villagers. Though hundreds of eyes filled with shock and terror turned toward her, she remained completely indifferent.
"Why are you just staring? Go catch those rats from before."
"Understood! Please don't shoot!"
"Catch them! Get the rats!"
Crash! Clatter! Smash!
The terrified people scrambled to catch the rats, causing shelves to topple and glass medicine bottles and flasks to shatter in a chaotic, slapstick frenzy. Pinochia strode through the cramped hospital-turned-apothecary, searching for more rat-people. While she inspected the villagers one by one, the residents of Hameln, terrified of being mistaken for vermin, swung brooms, kicked at shadows, and shrieked at the top of their lungs to prove their humanity.
It was a chaotic mess, but if the world handled pest control this way, the species would have gone extinct long ago. The cold, indifferent demeanor of a killing machine who could execute a person without a flicker of emotion had created a miracle: a unified, desperate focus on hunting down the scattered rats.
While the interior was busy with the hunt, someone outside, perhaps sensing a lull, kicked the door open and rushed in.
"What is going on here!"
A man who had been holding back the tide of rats in front of the hospital asked, startled by the sound of gunfire. He saw his neighbors acting like panicked animals and a stranger wandering the wreckage with a gun.
"The rats were eating people and mimicking them. I found them. By the way, seeing you come inside, I assume things have calmed down a bit?"
"...Yes. Thanks to you all, we survived. Please tell the young lady shooting arrows from above that we are grateful. The flute music that had been playing faintly has stopped, and the rats have halted for now."
Seeing Pinochia, who asked about the situation outside without the slightest tremor or agitation, the farmer, who had been chasing rats with a scythe, finally felt his emotions settle.
"Hansel went to catch that flute player. It seems he is doing well."
To the residents of Hameln, it was a glimmer of hope.
***
Except for the area around the hospital, now inherited by Sophia from the man named Billock, Hameln was crawling with rats. An invisible man wandered, searching for the source of the invisible threat. That source was the flute music echoing throughout the village.
'It seems to be just one person playing the flute. He isn't creating clones to play from multiple locations at once.'
While Hansel remained hidden, searching for the performer, the performer was not idle. Even if he could evade the eyes of the rats, he could not hide their scent. He redirected the rats to track through smell rather than attacking the hospital. However, it was not very effective. Hansel was a thief who lived in the shadows, skilled at concealment and a hunter by trade. He was an expert at masking his scent in the forest and hiding his presence from his prey. The stage had merely shifted from forests and meadows to a village, and the targets from monsters to a single human; the fundamental principles of his craft remained unchanged.
Finally, he found the source of the flute music. It was one of the village warehouses—a place packed with sacks of flour. In a room filled with the ingredients for future bread, the performer sat on a sack, continuing a melody that reached every ear in Hameln, in a place where no one should have been listening.
The performer was a young boy, a minstrel dressed entirely in black, save for a straw hat adorned with colorful feathers.
Slash!
The sack of flour was sliced open, spilling fine white powder everywhere. Just before the blade struck, the minstrel, perhaps sensing the ominous presence, rolled aside and evaded the attack.
"No greeting?"
The minstrel, who would have been gutted along with the sack had he stayed still, taunted the invisible visitor—now clearly visible, covered in white flour—with a relaxed air.
"Just a kid?"
"You're the same, aren't you? And I'm actually older than you. My body stopped growing a long time ago."
Hansel, having dropped his stealth, was surprised to find that the flute player was a boy much younger than he had expected.
"Since you've come this far, let me introduce myself. I am Hunold Singup. Just call me Hunold. And you?"
"I'm Hansel."
"Hmm, I see. Hansel. Have we met somewhere before? You look familiar."
Whether it was a provocation or a genuine attempt to search his memory, the way Hunold tilted his head struck Hansel as a taunt.
"No, not at all!"
Instead of playing along, Hansel lunged with his twin daggers.
"Tch, why did people like you have to come here? This is troublesome."
Hunold clicked his tongue and dodged Hansel's strikes. His attitude remained relaxed, but he seemed weak in direct combat, his evasions growing increasingly narrow.
Slash! Thwip! Slice! Thwip!
Hansel's blades shredded sack after sack, filling the warehouse with a thick, choking fog of flour.
"Hansel? It was nice meeting you. Let's see each other later. Well, I doubt we'll have the chance."
"Who said I'd let you go? *Cough!*"
Whether he was mocking Hansel or truly struggling, Hunold declared his retreat. Naturally, Hansel had no intention of letting him leave. After a cough to clear the flour from his throat, Hansel blocked his path. But the retreat was not a simple turn-and-run.
"Fortissimo!"
"Ghk!"
A powerful sonic wave erupted from the flute in Hunold's hand. Hansel, not expecting a flute that could unleash such power without being blown, clutched his ears as the sound bypassed his eardrums and vibrated directly into his brain.
BOOM!!!
A sudden explosion consumed everything, including the flour-filled warehouse. Hansel and Hunold were caught in the blast. The principle behind the explosion was a dust explosion—a phenomenon where combustible powders like flour or sawdust, when dispersed in the air and reaching a certain concentration, ignite from even a tiny spark or heat. There was a reason Hunold had been sitting in that specific warehouse.
"I was just going to take a few kids, but you're such a nuisance."
In the now-quiet hospital, a strange voice suddenly echoed. Several rats that had been hiding merged together, transforming into the form of Hunold. The Pied Piper had appeared before his prey in person.
"Aaaaaaah!"
Instead of the cheers for a superstar, the scream marked the beginning. The second act of Hameln's flute recital had begun.