The Elusive Protagonist
The grand mansion saw its share of servants coming and going. The guards at the entrance looked quite strict. Anyone could tell they were the mansion's staff, yet they checked identities thoroughly and scribbled notes every time someone passed through. It seemed like they were keeping an entry and exit log, tracking who came and went.
Even from the roadside, staring at the mansion yielded no sign of the protagonist. From the memes circulating around, I knew what he looked like—silver hair and blue eyes. Given how women flocked to him despite his lack of interest in school life, he had to be exceptionally handsome.
Another wasted day.
As time dragged on with no sign of the silver-haired protagonist, I finally uncrossed my legs and stood up. His whereabouts remained a mystery. The story said he entered the academy at sixteen, so there was a chance he wasn't in the capital yet. Still, it made no sense for a golden-spoon heir to abandon his family's estate in the capital.
Even someone who had read the story meticulously wouldn't know where the protagonist had been before entering the academy. With that thought, I headed toward the weapon shop I'd first visited upon arriving in the capital, before it got too late.
The shop with the crude sign reading [Weapon/Armor Shop].
"Welcome. What are you looking for?"
Today, instead of the gruff old man, a young man with an honest face was minding the store. Right, he'd mentioned his grandson attended the academy. Since I'd come expecting the old man, I spoke to the young fellow.
"Um, is the grandfather not here?"
"Huh? Oh, he's in the back storeroom… Should I call him?"
Even when speaking to someone younger than himself, the young man used polite language. Our somewhat awkward conversation must have reached the storeroom, because footsteps approached from inside. Both our gazes turned toward the door just as it swung open.
"What's this? Someone's here, and you're calling only for me? Huh? You are…"
The old man from my first day in the capital stepped out. The moment he saw me, he asked, "Still haven't left?" I explained everything that had happened recently—the carriage attack while traveling from the capital, and how I'd used most of the money to place a bounty on Brenda, the leader of the attack.
The old man listened with a bitter expression, arms crossed, saying nothing until I finished. After a brief silence, he spoke.
"…So, you weren't hurt?"
"Ah, just a scar on my back…"
His stern face softened slightly as he let out a deep sigh. He patted my shoulder and side with his thick, rough hands, then looked me straight in the eye.
"Have you sent word to your parents?"
Concern showed in his fierce expression. Feeling guilty about worrying them, I scratched my cheek awkwardly.
"Ah… They said letters don't reach that far. It's such a small village."
"…I see. No plans to go back right away?"
At his next question, my face stiffened. I didn't want to worry my parents, yet I couldn't bring myself to return just yet. The conflicting feelings made me feel like I was doing something wrong. I lowered my head and answered quietly.
"…No."
A short silence followed. Any decent adult would have told me to go home and stop causing worry. But what came out of the old man's mouth was unexpected.
"Do you have a place to stay?"
"Ah, yes…?"
I'd braced for a lecture, but instead he asked if I had somewhere to stay. If I went back to the village now, I'd never leave again—so I planned to stay a little longer. My mind went blank at the question.
When I gave a dazed reply, the old man continued without meeting my eyes, even though we were facing each other.
"I'm asking if you have somewhere to sleep. You said you poured all your reward money into that request."
"Yes, well… I'm staying with the mercenary who completed the request. I'm learning a few things about mercenary work while I'm there."
"Is that so…? Then go back when the time is right. Don't worry them too much."
"Ah, yes…"
With that, he turned and strode back into the storeroom. I'd expected at least a few scoldings, but he let it slide, perhaps because I wasn't his child. The young man at the counter, who had been watching nervously during the heavy conversation, approached after the old man left.
"My name's Balt. How old are you?"
"Thirteen. My name is Shen."
"Thirteen? You're already doing mercenary work at that age?"
Balt's eyes widened at my age, showing interest. Feeling embarrassed by his impressed look, I scratched my head.
"I've only hunted a few young boars so far, but…"
Mercenary work was usually considered too early even at sixteen, the official registration age. Starting at thirteen would make people think you were either desperately poor or just strange. Ah, Reina had told me about the age restriction. She'd mentioned it when I said it was a waste not to register since I could already hunt monsters, even if they were just small fry.
Balt reacted dramatically to my casual words.
"Hey, that's still impressive! Most people my age don't even know how to hunt monsters."
I pressed my lips together and looked away at his obvious statement. Of course citizens of the capital, living in safety and comfort, wouldn't have any reason to hunt monsters. Come to think of it, he'd said he attended the academy, right? I steered the conversation in that direction.
"By the way, how's academy life?"
"Huh? Ah… that?"
Balt's expression darkened at the mention of the academy. He scratched his head vigorously with a blank face before answering reluctantly.
"Honestly, I'm only going because I was told to… It's not very fun."
The academy was essentially a school. While modern people might associate the word with romance or excitement, for the students here it was just an institution they were forced to attend. Magic was a miracle granted to only a select few. Most commoners at the academy learned history and general knowledge, along with basic physical training. On top of that, the education facilities for the privileged and ordinary people were separated. In a world where discrimination between nobles and commoners was taken for granted, there was no need to elaborate on the state of those separate facilities.
Since I wasn't a citizen of the capital, I didn't have to worry about being dragged there… but I still wanted to figure out how the protagonist moved.
Still, I'd like to at least understand how the protagonist operates.
With that thought, I remembered the protagonist's whereabouts. If anyone had lived in the capital for a long time, they'd know more than I did. Pointing toward the mansion in the distance from inside the shop, I continued.
"Um, you see that big mansion over there?"
"Ah, that one? Yeah, why?"
"Have you seen anyone going in or out who has white hair and blue eyes?"
I described the protagonist's general features—features I'd never actually seen in person—and waved my arms in the air as if trying to paint a picture.
"Oh, you've seen him too? Lucky you! I heard he rarely comes outside."
Balt's eyes widened at the rare combination of hair and eye color, even though I'd only mentioned those two traits. My own eyes grew round at his casual words. At least the protagonist's existence was confirmed—that was a relief. Then again, the story hadn't even started yet. Was he already quite famous among the citizens?
"What's his name?"
I wanted to know his name if possible, but Balt only shook his head.
"No idea. Everyone says he's the son of the mansion's owner… but no one's ever talked to him, so nobody knows his name."
I hadn't learned his name, but it was still valuable information. As we continued chatting, Balt suddenly looked out the window and jumped in surprise. The sky that had been painted with sunset when I arrived was now pitch black. Frowning, he spoke with a troubled expression.
"Whoa, it's already this late… Sorry, could you head out now? It's closing time…"
"Ah, yes."
At his polite request, I quickly stood and headed outside. I'd meant to return before it got too late, but it was already well past that. The capital had good security, so I wouldn't be attacked out of nowhere, but… if I broke my promise, Reina would be furious. She was worried about me and looking out for me, probably because she'd lost her own father in an accident.
When should I tell her?
I still had no idea when to correct that misunderstanding. The truth was, my mom and dad were alive, and the person who died in the carriage attack was just a traveling merchant I knew. It would take a full two years before I could bring myself to say something so obvious.