Episode 2-a. The City Where Night Never Comes, Tebris (3)
The bustling streets of the city. Yaki, one of the twins tugging at my hands and skipping along, was the first to speak up. Even though the scenery was so debauched and decadent despite it being daytime that she'd bowed her head low, the kids' curiosity and energy couldn't be quelled that easily.
"Ain oppa, we can't stay here for more than ten days, right?"
"Yeah. We can't."
That was non-negotiable. Not just because it would have a terrible influence on the twins' common sense and moral education, but for a bigger reason.
"Why not?"
"You'll die."
Exceed that limit, and when you tried to leave the city, you'd have to risk your life.
"Huh...?"
"I'm not kidding. Once you've stayed about a month, you basically can't leave. The moment you do, all the fatigue you've unknowingly accumulated hits you at once, and you drop dead."
And this wasn't just theory—plenty of cases proved it. When Tebris first changed like this, people thought it was amazing and convenient. No fatigue, no need for sleep. They could enjoy life more, earn more money. At first, they reveled in the phenomenon like it was a blessing.
But the problem hit the second they tried to leave. The moment they stepped out for a trip, or set off in a carriage after ages to transport goods. Those who crossed the walls just thud—dropped dead. For Tebris's residents, who realized the issue too late, it must have been utter despair.
That set the limit: maximum ten days, even if it left you exhausted. Recovery was possible with some rest, though it varied by person. Stay even a day or two longer, and the death rate skyrocketed exponentially.
So we had to stick to ten days max. It was a tourist haven, a city of pleasure where residents raked in cash, but the massive posters plastered on the walls promising huge rewards for solving the problem weren't there for show. The locals couldn't leave, doomed to short lives. They hoped someone would come fix what they couldn't.
Maybe that's why it had turned into a tourist trap—drawing crowds in the hopes someone would end it.
Tori, who'd been listening quietly, tilted her head.
"Um... so, shouldn't we not solve the problem...? If it suddenly goes back to normal, all the residents who've been living like this would die, right?"
"Probably not."
"Why?"
"Scholars say that assuming it's a magic phenomenon, magic has clear causality. If the effect ends and the city reverts, the caster bears all the accumulated karma."
If it was ancient magic, the long-dead caster wouldn't care. If modern, some villain deserved it.
"So whether ancient magic or some bastard's modern spell, solving it lets the residents live normally."
Assuming it was magic, of course. And the locals? Even if it wasn't and they had to die, they'd rather the phenomenon end.
"I see... Okay, then we have to solve it!"
"Yeah! We're the letter's owners, so we'll definitely do it! For huge rewards... I mean, for Tebris's people!"
The kids nodded vigorously, and I smiled, ruffling their hair. We picked up the pace.
Clack-clack. My boots sounded urgent now, the twins keeping their heads slightly down again. Time was short. Unless you could fix this for sure, get in and out fast.
Tall buildings loomed, streets filled with hollow-eyed people. Gamblers ruined after too long, sprawled in despair. Like those fallen under the garish lights.
If you couldn't escape and lacked the guts to die, that was your fate.
Tori and Yaki and I veered off main roads into alleys. They stank, not my favorite, but for a century-old mystery, quieter spots seemed smarter than crowded ones.
I hesitated, thinking of the kids, but they grabbed my hands, insisting it was fine.
"...Way too mature for your own good."
"Huh? What?"
"Nothing."
One less bitter fact: no abandoned kids in these alleys. Just filth-stink, no starving orphans. We'd worried about ones we couldn't save, but pointless. Not a family spot, and locals were flush with cash.
We stuck to quiet areas.
"These alleys look shady enough to check every building."
"Yeah. Stick behind me, not beside."
"Okay~!"
We poked into buildings too. Shady ones lined up, perfect for secrets. Still wondered if bringing kids was smart, but their peeking eyes sparkled with excitement from behind me. So I stepped forward.
Clack. Boot on silence led to a shabby door hidden behind glamour.
Creak. Dust whooshed out with stale air. Inside: sticky gloom. We just stared.
"..."
"..."
"Gonna be ghosts, not magic."
"L-Lantern, oppa..."
It looked like ghosts would yank you in, never to return. Kids set lantern and oil by me, then waved cheering sticks two steps back.
"What're you doing?"
"Have a safe trip!"
"..."
"F-Fighting..."
I told you to stay at the inn, you brats. What if something happened to you while I was inside?
"Quit yapping and follow me, shorties."
"Eee..."
I lit the lantern, hoisted it, and stuck the kids to my legs again. We swung light into shadows, advancing.
Old wood floors thudded long echoes. The rundown interior was gloomier than expected—but not entirely. Recent human traces: scattered straw clothes. Homeless shelter, maybe. Trespassing?
Nah, squatters in an abandoned place—no crime. I muttered nonsense inwardly, kept moving. The building was huge; ten, twenty minutes passed searching.
"Oppa, no secret passages."
"Dummy Yaki, you think they're obvious?"
"Hey, Tori, we're twins—if I'm dumb, so are you."
"No, I'm smart. You're the dummy."
"Hey."
"What."
"...Shut it, shorties."
Tension gone, they bickered like usual. Empty building, eyes adjusted—sealed mouths unsealed.
"No magic either, oppa."
"You can even spot magic?"
"Shut up, dummy. I said it to oppa."
"I said it to oppa too—you called me dummy."
"'Cause you are one, Yaki."
"Hey."
"What."
"I said shut up. For real."
They gripped each other's hair, growling. I sighed. Their fights dragged; might as well scout while they squabbled.
And then.
Squeak.
"Tori, you little...?"
"Yaki, you dummy...?"
Squeak.
Squeak. Hall-end creaks and footsteps froze them. Multiple sources. I snuffed the lantern, huddled in dark hugging kids, praying whoever passed by.
Wishful thinking.
Squeak. Last creak, a shadow neared, click—light.
"Two kids, one adult. Sell the brats, kill the guy."
"Hmm, he got cash? Looks iffy."
"Dunno, rob him. Hey, got money? Plenty and we might spare ya, heh..."
Ten burly men, weapons drawn, closed in. Obvious bandits.
"Fuck."
"Th-That's mommy hate speech."
"...Old hag."
"Y-Yeah..."
Damn, gramps taught 'em weird shit. Kids huddled behind, muttering.
Stab.
"Wha—argh!!"
I lunged, sword through the front guy's heart.
"...One."
Broad daylight—well, perpetual day—and they pull this? Tax-dodging scum.
"C-Crazy bastard...! Kill him!!"
Fights start with surprise piercing guards. Stay calm amid chaos, win. I kicked his lantern, snuffing light. Darkness returned.
Tossed my black robe to kids; they donned it, crawling to deeper shadows.
Stab.
"Shit! Light—guh! Urk..."
"Two."
Cramped space was luck. Dark, they couldn't swing wildly; I pierced flailing shadows one by one.
"Aaaah... c-crazy fu—ugh."
"Three."
Seven left. Kill max while they panicked. Numbers favored them in weapon fights. I closed on a blindly swinging fool.
Thud.
"Urk!"
Timed kick hurled him into the pack.
Slash. Tangles, screams. Gurgle—one fell; blind blade hit ally's throat. Lucky.
Slash.
"Guh... gurgle..."
"Four, five."
Half down fast. One grabbed floor lantern, lit it. Scene flickered: blood-mud clumps, spurting corpses.
"Uwaaa... c-crazy murderer...! That fucker killed five...!"
Five left, but one or two edged back from me shaking blood off my blade.
Correction, though.
"Nah, wrong."
"K-Kill him! Lights on—stab the bastard together...!"
Beasts snarling, charging. I spoke.
"You tried killing, selling, robbing first. Met your type plenty—ain't playing victim anymore."
Three years. Scars from playing nice etched everywhere. Hesitate against villains as an adventurer? You die. Back scar from naive stab, shoulder and thigh gashes from pursuits—they proved it. No happy laughs acting naive.
So grit teeth, swing at people.
"Die, fucking die...!"
I gripped sword. Eyes reflected lantern red, blade arced gracefully—severed neck.
"Six."
Four left didn't take long.
First kill lingered vivid. Chased by bandits from carriage, swung in desperation—man dead. They raged at fallen comrade; I puked killing more. Vomited over corpses, swung again. Nauseous. Modern soul in this world—trained guns in army, never aimed at people. Reality's weight hit late.
Beasts felt different—vivid, hated screams, pleas. Bad guys, still repulsed.
Swordmaster Beks: "Sure, but say that after they kill someone precious?"
Knight Yosep in Crepen: "People? Why? Law-breakers grip swords backward—beasts, not men."
They said: "No hesitation. Want to advance? Prepare to kill, Ain."
"No hesitation. Sword drawn? Cut anything before you, Ain."
No hesitation. Words sank in later.
Stab.
"Kyak... grr..."
Thud.
"...Ten."
In blood-soaked room, I calmly flicked blood from blade.
"Kids, eyes shut. Stay put."
"Okay."
Hauled huddled robed twins out.
My body reeked fishy till bath back at inn. Faint red stains lingered forever on clothes.