The Flute's Melody in Hameln (4)
"An explosion?"
A thunderous blast echoed from a corner of Hameln. Immediately following it, a symphony of screams erupted from beneath the rooftops—men, women, and children, all wailing in unison. The swarming tide of rats had momentarily subsided, and the haunting flute music had ceased. Gretel had felt a flicker of hope, her lips curling into a faint smile for a few seconds, believing Hansel had finally pulled it off. But that hope was short-lived.
The explosion was so deafening that had they been any closer, their eardrums might have ruptured, blood leaking from their ears. Now, the air was filled with the shrieks of those paralyzed by terror. Something was terribly wrong.
Gretel dove through the hole in the roof that Pinochia had punched earlier. As she descended, the first thing she saw was Pinochia lunging at someone. The second thing she saw was the target of that assault: a man dressed in drab, dark clothing, save for a straw hat adorned with gaudy, multicolored feathers—the kind of hat that might look charming on someone else, but on him, it was merely an eyesore. He clutched a flute.
The situation was clear. Before her feet even touched the ground, Gretel unleashed support fire for Pinochia. She fired several arrows toward the rear, left, and right—the only paths the enemy could take to evade Pinochia’s frontal assault.
"Ugh, seriously? Why do these pests have to swarm here and make such a mess?"
Hunold, the Pied Piper, might have lacked talent for direct hand-to-hand combat, but he was far from lacking judgment. He knew that with his physical capabilities, trying to dodge one attack would lead to being struck by two, and trying to dodge two would mean taking them all. Thus, Hunold chose to stand his ground and defend.
How could a man with such a fragile frame defend against arrows that could pierce bone, or a fist capable of shattering a man’s face? The answer lay in his rats. Several rats, each the size of a small dog, leaped onto Pinochia’s arms and hands, clinging to her. Compared to chains or weights used to bind and restrain, their stopping power was like paper or feathers, but they had the advantage of being living, breathing creatures. They couldn't block the attacks entirely, but they created just enough of an opening for him to twist his body and evade.
Because Hunold had twisted out of the way, Pinochia’s first strike missed, and consequently, Gretel’s arrows—which relied on his evasion—missed their mark as well. But that didn't matter. The hunter and the mechanical doll, now landed, could simply launch a second attack.
Of course, Hunold didn't just stand there and let them continue their offensive. Fighting two opponents in such a cramped space was highly disadvantageous, so he decided to expand the stage. He began the performance he had only shown to one person earlier—a performance he felt was a shame to waste.
"Crescendo."
Hunold’s incantation was faster than the speed at which Pinochia could recover from her missed punch and swing her bladed hand. It was a wide-area emission of high-capacity, high-frequency shockwaves, replacing the subtle melody used to manipulate the minds of vermin. The formless sonic shockwaves tore through the building, shattering walls and sending people flying.
Like a stage after a superstar’s concert that leaves everyone in a frenzy, the place was reduced to a chaotic mess of broken furniture and battered bodies. Hunold bolted out of the ruined infirmary.
"Argh! That bastard!"
Gretel was the first to rise, clutching her head as the ringing noise left her with a splitting headache. She fired arrows at the fleeing Hunold. With her vision blurred and the sound still echoing, she abandoned precise aiming, instead drawing her small crossbows in both hands and unleashing a hail of bolts.
"Ha, damn it. These guys are a headache even one-on-one, so why are there three of them? Fine, I’ll change my tactics."
Hunold complained as the barrage of arrows missed him entirely. Behind him, a wire shot out from Pinochia’s hand, but it, too, was slower than usual and was intercepted by a few rats that leaped into its path. Hunold climbed onto the roof of a nearby house with nimble movements, stood on the railing, and brought the flute to his lips. He began to play again.
This time, it wasn't just rats. Other vermin joined in—the kind that always infest a filthy rat den. Flies, tiny gnats, moths that lived in damp, dark corners. Hameln became a sea of rats undulating on the ground and a fog of insects in the air. From a height where everyone could look up, he performed a solo act, his flute accompanying his voice.
"I am the herald of death. I have been commanded by the Reaper to collect the lost children and lead them into his cold embrace. But ah! Why is this? A blind traveler stands in my way! Ahhh! Only divine punishment awaits those who obstruct the destined death! Ahhh!"
It was a pathetic song, lacking rhythm, meter, or any lingering resonance—calling it a "song" was an insult to the word itself.
"You call that singing?"
He wasn't tone-deaf, but it was the kind of performance that wouldn't earn him a handful of coins even if he left a basket out. As Gretel kicked away the swarming rats and cleared the insects, fear began to spread among the residents of Hameln. Hunold, who had branded himself as a "herald of death" who commanded the rats and insects that swarmed over corpses, sounded convincing enough to the simple folk of a small town like Hameln.
And with his flute playing—which was, unlike his singing, top-tier—he slowly poured the poison of fear and hatred for "outsiders" into their hearts.
"I only intended to take a few of those beggar brats. But you, swayed by these strange strangers, are obstructing the destined death. Just find those kids and hand them over. If you do, I will let all of you live."
Inciting infighting. Inducing disgust. Sowing distrust. He was returning to Hameln exactly what he had suffered in his own village long ago. And the poison took hold perfectly.
"Where are those brats! Bring them here!"
"Where are they hiding!"
"Sophia, drag that girl out here now!"
The residents of Hameln had seen a few beggar-like boys and girls enter the town that morning and had shown them the kindness of providing food and shelter. But the "herald of death" had declared those children to be lives that must be reaped, and he had declared their charity a crime.
'We helped them, so why should we suffer like this!'
The result was an irrational yet "reasonable" solution that was the easiest to grasp: the cause of this entire situation wasn't Hunold, who was controlling the rats to attack the town, but those scruffy, easy-to-target beggar brats. As everyone chose to vent their hatred and anger on the vulnerable strangers, poisoned by the malice spreading in their hearts, only one person stood against the massive tyranny.
"No! How can you trust a guy like that!"
Sophia bravely blocked the villagers who were trying to drag away the girl she had been caring for—a patient who was in such critical condition she couldn't even wake up—to offer her to Hunold.
"Sophia! Why is a girl like you caring so much about some strangers you don't even know! Get a grip!"
"It’s not a bad thing to let those parentless brats die!"
"Absolutely not!"
If Sophia had been a truly naive girl, they might have resorted to violence, scolding her or slapping her across the face. But because she was one of the most important people in the village, and because most of the residents were indebted to her adoptive father, Billock, they only shouted at her, unable to resort to harsh measures.
Meanwhile, no one dared to tell the two "foolish strangers who defy the will of death" to leave. It was natural; the fear from Pinochia’s cold declaration earlier—that she would shoot anyone who interfered, treating them like rats in human skin—had not yet faded from their minds.
"You said your name was Sophia, didn't you? If one thinks rationally, you shouldn't be so foolish as to not realize that handing over one patient you've never met is the easiest way to solve this situation. Why are you protecting this woman you don't even know?"
"There's no way what that guy is saying is true. It's foolish to believe him. In my opinion, even if we hand over that girl or the other... what was it? The beggars who came into town, he clearly won't keep his promise and will try to kill everyone anyway. Attacking him first is the right move, but I'm just watching for now, just in case."
If handing over one girl to be food for the rats and insects really solved the situation and Hunold left, there would be no reason to fight. So, even though they didn't believe his words at all, they lowered their hands and watched for the moment.
Gretel and Pinochia watched as Sophia protected her patient despite the criticism and demands of all the villagers.
"It doesn't seem to be just that."
"Well, there must be another reason. Some pathetic nonsense about how it's a doctor's duty to save lives. It's the perfect way to get stabbed in the back and die, trying to help others like that."
"If she is upholding the 'duty of a doctor' even in a situation like this, wouldn't it be rude to dismiss it as pathetic nonsense?"
"Yeah, it's rude. That's why I'm not saying it to her face, right?"
"Hmm."
"Anyway, it's wise of her not to believe that guy. It would be idiotic to believe and follow the orders of some crippled flutist who walks around with rats he picked up from who knows where. That guy, a herald of death? Don't make me laugh. Hansel and I have hunted more beasts than the number of people that guy has killed."
While Gretel mocked everyone and Pinochia realized that Sophia possessed a conviction that would not bend to injustice, Sophia was eventually seized by the villagers, and the patient she had been caring for was dragged out. The girl, who looked scruffy and dirty, and who had grown enough to be married off in a few years, still hadn't woken up. The two villagers dragging her away ignored Gretel, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, and Pinochia, who was sitting on a broken wall looking at everyone with a look of pity.
"Gretel! Pinochia! Please help me! This is wrong!"
Sophia desperately asked for help from the strangers who had become her friends, but unfortunately, there was no answer from them. It was a cold indifference, without even the act of looking away after a moment of conflict.
"The others aren't here yet, are they? The other kids besides that girl!"
"We're looking! Please wait a moment!"
"It's a lie. This isn't some big city; is it really that hard to find and bring back a few strange kids?"
"They're really hidden perfectly! Just a little, please wait a little longer! We'll bring everything the herald of death wants! Hey! Find them quickly! Those brats!"
"I'll give you 10 more minutes."
The residents of Hameln busily re-entered the broken building walls, searching empty houses, warehouses, and attics for the strange children they had accepted early that morning. But they were nowhere to be found.
"You are ignoring my words. As punishment, I will take all of your children!"
"Wait, wait! Please! Just a little more!"
"So you want to keep searching forever? That's enough. The price for defying and deceiving death will be paid with the lives of your children."
However, except for the one patient Sophia had been caring for, the children who had arrived that morning had vanished from the town without a trace.
"Please! I'll die instead! I'll die instead! Please!"
A middle-aged farmer, representing the residents of Hameln, begged, banging his head against the ground. But Hunold was firm.
"All the children of this town will become food for the rats. Resent them! Resent them! Those children who dared to deceive death and run away! Resent that woman and those strange strangers who tried to protect them!"
He widened the scope of the hatred that had been directed at the scruffy group of orphans. Hameln was now destined to have all its children eaten by rats and insects. The Pied Piper had promised to spare everyone in Hameln if they handed over all the strange children who had arrived that morning. But except for one, those strange children had evaporated without a trace.
Hatred and resentment added flesh to the story, extended its bones, attached feathers to make wings, and sent it flying away. If things continued like this, a legend might spread about a ghost in the form of a child who avoided death, bringing death to the town after it had kindly taken them in. The despairing residents of Hameln, the men and women cursing and resenting the invisible orphans, someone shouting furiously at Sophia. Hunold looked down at it all and laughed happily.
He was satisfied with the sight of irrational and unreasonable hatred and malice spreading, similar to what he had suffered from the villagers long ago. Among them, the most ridiculous thing was the stupidity of the villagers. And in the first place, Hunold’s promise was one that no one could keep. Even if they searched for a hundred days, even if they searched for an eternity, they would never find those children.
The poor children that the kind-hearted Hameln had briefly taken in were, except for the one Sophia had just protected, all rats that had been catching people and imitating them. Malice, despair, aimless anger, resentment, sighing, and fear spread through Hameln.
"What to do... with those guys."
Hunold pondered what to do with the culprits who had caused this mess instead of kidnapping a few kids to sell to a brothel as he had originally intended, but the thought didn't last long.
"I'll kill them here."