Imperial Capital Edelmarion — Part 4

The gloomy sky wore a sullen grimace all day long. The rain began to drizzle lazily, turning the dirt on the road into a muddy, weeping mess.

A young boy, drenched in the downpour, let out a sudden sneeze. "Achoo!"

The rain was so cold it wouldn't have been surprising if it had turned to snow. With every drop that struck him, the boy felt his warmth slipping away, yet he could not seek shelter. For there was something he absolutely had to do.

"Angel, Angel. Are you listening?"

—I am listening, my sweet child. What is it you wish to know?

Clumsy hands clawed at the earth. Even as hidden pebbles pricked his feet and broken twigs sliced his flesh, the boy did not stop. Before long, a hole the size of a human head took shape in the ruined vegetable garden.

"Am I really an unlucky boy? Since I see such unlucky things."

—Of course not. You simply have a few more friends than others. Do you happen to remember the hunter from the village?

"Of course. The mister with the blue tattoo on his left arm."

—How clever. Do you also remember how that hunter had a hawk for a friend?

"A hawk! I saw it too. It flapped its brown wings and went *screeech*—it was so cool!"

At the mention of animals, the boy smiled brightly. To him, animals were far more familiar than humans. After all, every creature that had ever been kind to him was an animal, while every human had been the exact opposite.

Rain kept dripping into his eyes. Each time, the boy wiped his face with his sleeve.

—The things you see are merely special friends, just like that hawk. Others cannot see them, but you can be their friend, can you not? In fact, you are the one who must be their friend. They would surely be so lonely without you.

"But Mommy said I'm unlucky. Daddy did too."

—It is truly sad, but not everyone in this world is as good as you. Look, my child. Look at what those people have done.

His bright expression did not last. As the boy looked down once more, a puppy with golden fur lay dead before him.

It was a puppy he had raised with the utmost care. As much as he himself had been starved of love, he had poured all his affection into this little creature. He had named him Leo and always shared whatever food he could find. Perhaps understanding the boy's kindness, Leo had adored him in return. He would greet him with a hoarse, cheerful bark.

But that very Leo was dead today. Had he even managed to cry out before he died? Even a dumb beast must have felt terror. Staring at the grotesquely twisted neck offered no answers. He could only guess it had been an agonizing death.

—My sweet child. Do you believe your puppy did anything wrong? Anything to deserve such a fate?

"No! Never! Leo didn't do anything wrong!"

He wanted to at least straighten the puppy's neck before burying him. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't snap it back into place. He stopped, terrified that the head might tear completely off if he forced it.

—Indeed. Those wicked people lied to you. The 'ghosts' you see are merely friends who play a bit too rough. But they would never play mean tricks on you, would they?

"I see... Thank you, Angel. You really are the only one I have."

—The villagers and your parents have been so cruel to you, but I am always on your side.

The boy began to scoop the dirt back over. With every clump of earth that hid Leo from view, tears pattered down from the boy's face. Perhaps they weren't tears. It was raining, after all. He might just be mistaking the rainwater for tears. And yet, his eyes and his chest ached terribly.

—Oh dear, we have an uninvited guest.

The 'Angel' tapped the boy's shoulder. Though the Angel was invisible, he would sometimes touch the boy like this. When the boy turned around, he saw someone crawling across the muddy ground.

The boy watched the man with pitying eyes. To be precise, he was looking at the lower half of the man's body. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stones he had gathered for Leo's grave were getting soiled.

"E-Eric..."

"Oh, I wondered who it was. It's Mister Brown. What brings you all the way out here?"

"Please... please save me. Please."

Unfortunately, the man's wish—Mister Brown's wish—was not something even the boy could grant. It is easy to break a toy, but hard to fix it. His body was already far past the point of repair. If his legs had been intact, he wouldn't have had to crawl, but Mister Brown didn't seem to realize what state his body was in.

A man severed at the waist cannot survive. As young as the boy was, even he knew that much. Besides, the Angel had said so: everyone in this village was a 'bad person.'

"Angel. I think my friends dropped him while they were playing."

—It seems so. Now, wouldn't a good boy return him to his friends?

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"It's okay. They're already coming over."

The boy beamed.

"You can take him back."

"Aaargh, no! Please, please save me! Aaaaaagh!"

—What a good boy.

Mister Brown went back the way he came. He had crawled here inch by inch, but his return was instantaneous. A long trail of handprints was left in the mud where he was violently dragged away. A human has ten fingers. Yet there were eleven marks. Why was there one extra? Ah, because of his head.

The boy patted down the last of the dirt. He tucked Leo in with a thick blanket of earth so he wouldn't be cold, and piled stones on top so he wouldn't lose the spot when he came back later. Kneeling, the boy clasped his hands together and prayed.

"Dear God, please let our Leo not be in pain in his next life. I would be so happy if he could be born again and be my friend."

—God will surely answer your prayer.

"I'm so glad I have you, Angel."

"Achoo!"

—You seem to have caught too much rain. Shouldn't you go back inside and rest?

"Mmm, I probably should. I'll do whatever you say, Angel."

—Do so. Nothing bad has ever happened when you followed my words, has it? A child who listens is a good child. I cherish you very much, my sweet child.

"Yes. I'll be a good boy."

The boy trundled off. The village was usually quiet, but today was different. Black silhouettes wavered across the entire settlement. The usually quiet villagers were exceptionally loud today. It was because the boy's 'friends' were having so much fun.

An arm lay rolling on the ground. It was an arm with a blue tattoo. The screams of the villagers echoed. The boy paid them no mind. They had nothing to do with him anymore.

—Kyahahahahaha!

—Give me that too! Give me that too!

—This one is crying! This one is laughing! This one is crying!

—It must be fun! I'm having fun! Are you having fun too?

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Someone he couldn't recognize was dancing wildly in the sky. They were too far away to make out their face. The boy's friends played with the person, snatching them from one another and tossing them back and forth like a ball. Sometimes, they fought over them.

Rip!

Something tore in midair. Blood rained down over Eric's head, and a familiar face came into view.

—Blood splashed on Eric!

—He did it! I didn't do it!

—I did it! He didn't do it!

It was the boy's father. His father had been drunk every day, cursing that he had sired a cursed child. Whenever he reeked of alcohol, he beat the boy. The Angel had called his father a bad man. At the sight of his father's face, the boy's eyes went vacant and unfocused.

"IdoldtoldyounottotalktothosefuckingthingsI'msorryI'msorrypleasedon'thitmeifyoudowrongyouhavetobepunishedareyoudrunkagainwhyareyoulikethistooit'sallbecauseyougavebirthtoacursedchildweshouldhavekilledhimthenisthismyfaultweagreedtoraisehim..."

—My child? It is cold outside. You should head in.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I guess I was daydreaming. I'll go inside now."

—Yes. We must leave this place tomorrow, so get plenty of rest.

The Angel quietly added:

—I will clean up the rest.