Revenge Lies Beneath (2)
Count Loren.
That worthless piece of shit who raped Sister Flora.
The moment I recognized the name, tears surged up and spilled over.
Breathing hurt. I clamped a hand over my mouth, and my whole body shook so hard that when I tried to step outside I staggered and slammed into the wall. The adventurers laughed and teased me, asking if training with Laika—the Guild Master—had really been that brutal.
Inside me, everything was rotting in real time.
I wanted to kill him.
I want to kill him.
It stunned me that I could feel this much rage toward someone whose face I had never even seen.
The memories were vivid.
The day in the slums when I got caught fleecing someone and nearly beaten to death. The day Rhea begged beside me that she was sorry, and the man whose anger still hadn't cooled tried to stomp us both to death. The way Sister Flora threw herself over us and took the blows in our place.
Even as she was dying, she held us close while feeling every ounce of the pain. Even when they buried her in the dirt, she wore that faint smile—as if hoping we wouldn't be too sad. That last image still haunted me.
"Haha, looks like you really got put through the wringer."
The adventurers crowded in around my bowed head, ready to rib the new apprentice. From the moment you became an apprentice, they said, the guild became another family. Someone stepped up, gave me a playful shove, and asked if it had really been that hard.
I lifted my head. A single tear slid down.
For a second the adventurer who had touched me looked just like that faceless "Loren." I knew I wasn't right in the head, so I spoke like a child.
"I got dust in my eye. I'm fine."
My tone was stiff, and I knocked the hand away harder than any kid should have—but the adventurers didn't call me on it. The nameless one dropped the teasing and just patted my shoulder instead. I was the twelve-year-old who had walked into the guild saying I needed to make money and then gone out and killed goblins alone. If a kid that young was doing that kind of work, they figured he must have a story.
I gave a short bow and walked out of the guild.
There was a single gold coin in my pocket. In the slums, fists spoke louder than law—and the same went for money. I pulled the dagger from my belt, hid it inside my shirt, and staggered forward.
Then, afraid of looking pathetic, I forced myself to walk straight. Afraid someone would see the tear tracks, I opened my eyes wide and stared up at the sky. And just like that, I was nothing more than an ordinary slum brat again.
"For one gold, what kind of woman can I sleep with?"
I held the coin up for the thug guarding the brothel to see. Nothing strange about it in the slums. If you had money, even a kid could find women who would lick him like a king or an emperor—and the garbage who made their living pimping those women owned this place.
"Wait here."
The thug disappeared inside for a moment, then opened the door and told me to follow.
Thud—, thud—.
Slap—, huff—.
Like animals locked in cages, some of them were rutting right out in the open. Others slammed against the walls hard enough to break them, cooing and fawning. If Sister Flora had been raped, it meant she had been dragged through a place like this.
I tried not to think about it. It hurt too much to think about it. But I could almost see her trembling in terror.
"Got someone particular in mind?"
the thug asked.
"Elf, dwarf. Hell, a succubus? She's a low-rank demonkin, but we've got those too. Plenty of demihumans. Wolfkin, catkin, dogkin."
The way he talked about people like merchandise told me exactly how used to this he was.
"…Do you have any nuns?"
At that, the thug let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Again? Fucking hell. A nun? What nun. Shit, my head already hurts enough to kill me."
Then he glanced at my face and lowered his voice. He had remembered I was a customer. Even if he didn't like me, as long as I was paying he had to keep up some pretense of manners. If word got around that someone had put down money in the slums and walked away without a woman—or if a murder broke out—it would be bad for business. Losing customers was the one thing these people wanted to avoid.
"…The last nun we had was a woman who showed up last year. That's it. We don't know anything else. We've got a noble girl, though. Interested?"
"…I don't want a noble."
"Why not? She's pretty, you know. Loren—that bastard—took her as payment for an old debt. Daughter of some former connection of his. Nobody's touched her yet. Well. She's too expensive for full service, but she'll use her hands or her mouth. Doesn't a girl that high-class, one who's never taken a man, get you going more than the usual trash?"
Loren?
At this point it almost felt like fate. The piece of shit who had gotten Sister Flora killed. It was as if the world itself were goading me to drive a dagger into his throat.
I buried the rage, forced a smile, and spoke. I had no intention of taking a woman. I only wanted to get closer to Loren.
"…Loren. I've been hearing that name a lot."
"If even a brat like you knows it, yeah, I guess so."
"…I want to do it with a woman Loren broke."
"…What?"
The thug sighed again, then looked at me like he was thoroughly disgusted and issued a warning.
"…The ones already broken, I don't care. But you don't get to break them yourself. That would be fucking up our merchandise."
"I understand. Just show me a woman that Loren bastard broke. One he's about to break is fine too. I don't mind sharing."
"What the hell is this world coming to, when a twisted little shit like you is walking around with that kind of money."
Step—, step—.
The farther we walked, the more screams reached my ears. One gold was serious money in the slums, so he seemed determined to show me top-shelf goods. Sure enough, the deeper we went, the more carefully treated the women became. And still the screaming continued.
"You fucking bitch—heh—feels good, doesn't it? Doesn't it? Come on, pray for me. Just like that bitch back then—huh!?"
Crack—!
Pray?
That bitch back then?
Loren.
The man behind that door was Loren.
It felt like someone had suddenly driven a blade into my gut. My insides twisted; nausea rose in my throat.
A middle-aged man's bellow. The broken, shredded sobs of a person already ruined. The forced, fear-soaked moans. Voices that had no business existing in the same world as Sister Flora. My feet stopped cold.
Eeeeeee—!
A high ringing filled my ears and wouldn't stop. The thug was saying something, waving a hand in front of my face, but I couldn't hear a word.
I saw a brown wooden door. It stood slightly ajar, as if inviting anyone to witness the sadism inside. Through the gap I could see a beautiful woman who looked every bit as devastated as Sister Flora once had.
There were cuts everywhere, as if he had been slicing her flesh. He was being so vicious that no matter where I looked there was blood. And still she cried and fawned, trying to stay alive.
Had Sister Flora been like that?
The thought flashed through me—and I knew at once that she hadn't. Sister Flora would have kept fighting. Because if she died, the rest of us left behind—
Everyone she had called my child and loved—would have a hard time surviving. She knew this world was far too cruel for orphans to face alone.
That was why…
Even the money she had been given for being raped… she couldn't throw away. She had pressed it into our hands instead.
"…What, you like that one?"
The thug's voice reached me. Or maybe it didn't. I couldn't tell.
In my mind a field of snow stretched out, and across it I could see the trail Sister Flora had crawled. She had dragged herself through the snow out of worry for us. Even as she died she prayed for us, and she couldn't bring herself to throw away that filthy money.
If I killed Loren right now—
If I was too weak and failed, and he simply murdered me instead—
Either way, Claudia, Rhea, and Ceria would only sink deeper into poverty.
They might even die. I was the one who had always brought the money home, clinging to that stupid reason of protecting everyone. Rhea might end up back in the slums, selling her body like the women here.
My hands shook. Right in front of me, one open door away, was the bastard who had killed Sister Flora. I could kill him right this second if I wanted…
…No. Not now. I can't.
I couldn't take revenge for Sister Flora. Killing him wouldn't be the end of it. Murder a count and I would end up on the gallows, and the three of them would be forced to watch me die.
But I couldn't just turn around and leave either. Even if I couldn't kill Loren, I had to do something.
The noble girl he had supposedly brought in floated into my mind.
"…That noble girl. She's a problem for you, isn't she?"
The words left my mouth before I knew it.
"…I know how thugs like you think. You took her as payment, but turning a noble into a whore is asking for trouble later. That's why you even bothered mentioning her to a kid like me—figured you could at least squeeze a little coin out of it. Pair her with grown men and something was bound to go wrong. You knew that."
I tossed the gold coin to the thug. He snatched it out of the air and looked at me like I was some kind of curiosity.
"…I'll buy her. One gold. You're scared to keep her around anyway. How much are you really going to make off hands and mouth? Five silver a go at best. Just sell her to me and forget she exists."
He seemed to weigh it for a moment—then nodded more easily than I expected. They must have been stewing over this themselves. Bringing up a noble had probably been a scam aimed at me, but even a successful scam wouldn't have paid much. And if some noble ever stormed the slums, that girl's testimony could get people killed.
"Fine. Deal."
I turned on my heel and walked away from Loren.
No—I walked away from revenge, for a little while.
The deadline I set for myself was three years.
Three years. Fifteen years old. By then the three of them would have finished three years at the academy and somehow be able to stand on their own—old enough to hold real jobs. Until then, I would endure. I made the promise alone, to myself.
"Here she is. No complaints."
The door opened and a girl stepped out who looked noble no matter how you sliced it. She had clearly been crying hard; grief was written all over her face. They had said "woman," but she was just a child. Disgust rose in my throat.
"From now on, this brat is your master."
I took the girl's hand and led her out of the slums. I didn't take her to the church.
"What's your name?"
"…Lediche."
"…Lediche. Do you remember which house you were from?"
"…We're in the Rueshatia Territory."
I honestly had no idea where the Rueshatia Territory was. I had already given the gold coin to the thug, but I still had a little money left. Holding Lediche's hand, I walked toward the far side of Bilua Village—the place where I had always worked odd jobs—and made a request.
"…I'm not making you a slave. I'll send you home."
At that, her eyes went round as she stared up at me.
"Why… why would you…?"
"I'm not just sending you back for free."
"…M-my f-family's circumstances aren't… aren't very good right now."
"…That's not what I mean."
The way Lediche cried looked so much like Rhea, or Claudia, or Ceria that the rage I had been holding simply drained away. Pity and sorrow and sympathy turned my hand toward her face; before I knew it I was wiping her tears as I spoke.
"…Later. Much later, when your house is back on its feet… if someone ever comes to you using my name and asks for help—just help them once. That's all."
"…H-help…?"
"Hold on. I found a carriage."
I pressed money into the coachman's hand and asked him to take Lediche to the Rueshatia Territory. It must have been closer than I thought—the fare was only five silver. I was about to leave when Lediche called out to me.
"Y-your name…!"
"…Hm?"
"…I n-need to know your name if I'm g-going to help you."
I answered briefly.
"…Riel."
I watched the carriage roll away, then headed back to the church. The moment of pity had run its course. I had almost forgotten—but the second I returned to the church, it felt as if Sister Flora were right there again.
Fortunately, the anger faded quickly. Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia were all waiting for me. Looking at them, I became certain that putting revenge off for three years had been the right choice.
Without thinking I walked straight into the middle of them and pulled them all into my arms. They seemed startled at first—then every one of them hugged me back.
"…Rhea. Ceria. Claudia. I'm so glad you're here with me."
Rhea answered first.
"…Me too."
Then Ceria.
"…I'm glad you're here, Riel."
And Claudia last.
"…I like you toooo, Riel…."
Holding them out of nowhere like that almost made me laugh. We all went back to the confessional we used as a living room and played house for the first time in a long while. As always, I was the husband.
"It's been forever since we had three moms."
"Yeah. I'm the official wife, Riel."
"Nuh-uh, i-it's Claudia."
"…I want to try being the official wife too."
For the first time in ages, there were three mothers.
The next day, after coming back from the guild, Riel told them.
As the head of the household, he needed to earn the money for the three of them to attend the academy. He needed to spend more time at the guild. For the sake of revenge.
"…Starting today, I think I'll be gone longer."
It meant less time at the church.
"…W-what about prayers?"
"…C-Claudia's tail gets a-all tangled a lot…."
"…C-cooking's hard to do alone now that everyone's bigger…."
Riel hesitated a moment, then spoke.
"…I can't do it every day. Please understand, all of you."
They knew they couldn't put their own feelings first, so they seemed to accept Riel's compromise. But somewhere along the way, being with Riel had become more fun—and more precious—than any of their dreams.
"Ow—!"
Claudia sometimes deliberately tangled her own tail into knots.
"…Hic… R-Riel. I miss Sister Flora."
Ceria would break down crying that she wanted to see Sister Flora.
"…I'm bleeding."
Rhea would claim she had cut herself cooking, manufacturing excuses to spend time with Riel. Each of them, in their own way, was fighting for his attention.
Even so, there simply wasn't enough time. Special treatment from Riel didn't happen nearly as often as the children wished.
Claudia, who clung the hardest, finally couldn't stand it and said to him one day,
"…I hate you…. You said you'd protect us. You said you'd always take care of us…. Lately it feels like you've turned into someone else."
Rhea got to be his girlfriend, and Ceria got hours of prayer time together with him. All Claudia got was her tail brushed and ordinary conversation—so she looked the most pathetic of the three, and she sulked. She told him she hated him, that he was mean, that he wasn't keeping his promise.
"I'm sorry, Claudia. I didn't mean for it to be like this."
And so Riel gave her attention. He set aside time to stay with her and apologized over and over. It didn't take long for all of them to realize the contradiction: that throwing a tantrum, that saying they hated Riel and couldn't stand him, was one of the surest ways to get to be with him.