Emerald (1)

"I am a prince adorned with magnificent jewels and gold, yet I cannot move. I had the Swallow pluck pieces from my own body and give them away to others."

"......"

"Now all that remains is a single fragment of jewel."

Tap—

A gleaming green shard dropped down at my feet.

It hadn't been visible until now—where on earth had it been clinging all this time?

I carefully picked up the mysterious gem. It was a finely crafted emerald.

Swish—

'Was it attached to the crown? If so, it would have been too high up to enter my line of sight.'

"I have distributed my jewels and gold to countless people, and yet—it is not enough. Even now, the moans of the sick and the silence of passersby linger in the streets."

"Didn't you already give the gold to your people after removing all the jewels?"

"The Swallow found a fragment of ruby and a fragment of emerald behind the crown—ones it had failed to pry free in time."

From our earlier conversation, I knew the ruby fragment had been delivered to Tuan by the Swallow.

So who was meant to receive the emerald?

"If I give away every last piece of myself, warm light will return to this city."

"From people who still aren't happy even after receiving a gift like that? Can light really come back from that?"

Countless people had received the expensive gold and jewels that decorated the prince's body. And yet if poverty remained unsolved and misery went on—

Then perhaps this statue of a prince inside the tower simply couldn't fix the sorrows of the common folk.

"It is all right. You, young man, shall become their jewel."

"...Me? A jewel?"

What was he talking about, me being a jewel?

'There is a precious jewel inside your heart. Something along those lines, I suppose.'

It was melodramatic, to be sure, but no one hears that there's a jewel inside their heart and takes offense at it.

...Though they might not exactly buy it, either.

'It must be winter—that's why it gets dark so quickly.'

I couldn't tell what time it was, but the sky had dimmed in what felt like moments. With the heavens blanketed in cloud, evening had fallen without even the grace of a sunset.

"Follow the trail of gold dust."

"Gold dust?"

"Look behind you."

At the prince's words, I turned my head back—and there it was, gold dust scattered in a long line along the road.

The shimmering dust stretched far into the depths of the alley and beyond.

"This gold dust is visible only to the Swallow and me."

"I see. But here's the thing—why would people who need jewels have gold dust clinging to them in the first place?"

How were the poor citizens who hadn't even received their jewels yet supposed to be shedding gold dust?

"......"

The prince offered no further reply to my question.

The gleam that had shone in his eyes had vanished entirely—the conversation, it seemed, had been forcibly terminated.

'Well. Onward, then.'

A trail of gold dust glittering conspicuously through the dark night streets.

I followed it down the secluded back alleys of the sleeping town.

In a village this poor, you'd expect vagrants and beggars hiding in the corners of the road—but it was as if everyone had tucked themselves away behind closed doors. Not a single soul passed me by.

'It's too quiet. Is something about to ambush me out here?'

Following the gold dust, I eventually arrived at a small farmhouse whose harvest had already been gathered long ago. In the fields, only withered weeds and bare roots remained.

I kept tracking the future recipient of the jewel, my eyes on those fields.

"Who goes there!"

And then—suddenly, a scolding voice called out from the darkness ahead.

"I don't know who you are, but there's nothing left in our field!"

"......"

"You were trying to steal our crops, so drop whatever you're holding and get lost!!"

A boy emerged from the dark, baring his teeth as he shouted me down.

'It's the kid from earlier.'

The same boy who'd approached me trying to sell me a shoe-shine. Perhaps because he'd lived a brutal life from such a young age, his language was rather coarse.

"Hey, kid. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Even if I wanted to rob you, I've got nothing to my name. You saw that yourself, didn't you?"

"Ah... the beggar mister?"

The boy, apparently unable to find a single farm tool worth using as a weapon, swung both bare fists at me. When I hurriedly revealed who I was, he deflated at once, blinking his round eyes at me with naked curiosity.

'Wait a second. The gold fragments are moving?'

The gold pieces lying on the ground leapt up in tiny hops, trembling.

The boy's feet were pulling the gold toward him like a magnet.

And that wasn't all.

'...The kid is glowing.'

You could have blamed it on his golden hair—but even in this darkness, he alone was shining far too brightly. Brilliant light was radiating from the boy's entire body.

It was almost as if this were what the prince's statue must have looked like before its gold leaf was peeled away.

'Apparently there's no point in keeping up the disguise in front of this kid.'

The prince had said that if I followed the gold dust, I'd find who was meant to receive the jewel. Which meant either this boy himself—or someone connected to him—was the one who needed it.

"I'm not a beggar. I'm something like a... knight, guarding the prince's statue."

It felt a little embarrassing to call myself a knight.

At my cough-laced self-introduction, the boy's already marble-like eyes went rounder still as he stared at me.

"Really? Are you really a servant of the prince's statue, mister?"

"'Servant' has a weird ring to it. Let's say I'm a substitute for the Swallow."

"Then... are you the one who's going to save our village? The way the Swallow has been doing all this time?"

"I'll certainly try."

"That's amazing!"

The boy leapt lightly into the air, his golden hair swaying.

It was precisely because he was a child laborer enduring such a harsh era that he yearned so desperately for salvation.

"The Swallow has worked so hard for so long. So why does the village still look so desolate?"

I put the fundamental question to the boy, who must have watched over this village from inside the exhibition all along. It may well have had nothing to do with my quest.

...And yet something about the tower felt like it was showing a fatally critical flaw.

"? Because everyone received the jewel they wanted."

So everyone got the jewel they wanted—and yet, apparently, no one in the village looked happy.

I'd thought that since he seemed to be around elementary-school age, we might actually be able to communicate. But whatever limits the museum's NPCs had when it came to conversation, this boy clearly hit them.

'Either way, I need to look into this kid more closely.'

To size the boy up in finer detail, I launched straight into an act.

My ability to deceive people was sorely lacking—but as it happened, the cold weather meant I didn't need to act out a shivering body at all.

"Could I stop by your house and beg a hot cup of soup from your parents? I feel like I'm about to freeze solid out here..."

"Invite a stranger with no name and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no money into our home?"

The boy barely concealed the fear in his eyes, deliberately baring his teeth at me in warning.

Fair enough. If not for the quest, this situation would have been reasonably terrifying for a child—some strange adult accosting him at night.

"I'm not going inside the house."

"......"

'Is it child abuse? Or is he just wary of letting me into his home?'

A society where children worked was ordinary in this era. And where there was child labor, there could also be abuse of a different kind entirely.

"I can help you."

"......"

One way or another, I had to extract more information from this enigmatic boy.

Even when I fired off my most earnest, sincerity-laden gaze, the boy refused to drop his doubtful look.

"If you're cold, it doesn't have to be your house. We can sit down and talk anywhere you like."

I was cold enough to catch a cold on the spot, but I'd endure it for him.

'Unlike during the Turandot quest, this isn't cold enough to blur ink, so I can hold out.'

If it comes to it, you endure. That's all.

"Come this way, then."

Just as I was steeling myself to sit down right there on the road and talk with him, the boy—still wearing a slightly wary expression—cautiously began to lead me away.

Determined not to let him change his mind, I followed in silence, keeping a careful distance between us.

"Here we are."

Had he really felt that uneasy about bringing me inside the house?

The boy led me instead to a small storage shed near the farm.

Carrying the single lantern that was all that could faintly illuminate the cramped shed's interior, he set it down in the space between the two of us as we sat.

"Where are your parents right now?"

'He seems to be the son of a tenant farmer's family.'

Given how he'd said "our field" and "our crops," he was surely a farmer's child. And a household poor enough to put a young son to work was very likely one that tilled someone else's land.

"My parents? They went out for a walk with Emerald. They said they'd be back in the morning."

"Emerald?"

"Our hunting dog. He's gotten so skinny lately, so they're making him exercise to stay healthy."

"......"

Hunting dogs on farmsteads were the kind kept for catching mice, rabbits, moles, and the like.

And the name of such a dog was Emerald—overflowing with noble elegance? Emerald, of all things?

'Not to mention that the parents leave their son behind at night just to take a dog for a walk.'

It wasn't even for the sake of their livelihood. Heading out into the night for a hunting dog's exercise, leaving their child at home—

Something distinctly off was registering in my mind.

"Emerald's gotten old, so he can't even catch moles and bugs anymore... Mother and Father are so sad about it."

"...I see."

"Because Mother and Father love Emerald so, so much!"

The boy beamed brilliantly at the thought of the old dog Emerald—and one second later, he was on the verge of tears.

"I miss Emerald. If he's running through the woods at night like this, it must be so hard on him."

Even granting that he loved the dog, his emotional swings were far too violent.

I was just thinking that children were rather like one-man stage actors—

Sob—

At last, the boy's eyes reddened and the tears welling up inside him burst forth.

Once the dam broke, there was no stopping the flow. The boy wailed on and on.

"WAAAAAH!!"

"?!!"

'I've never actually soothed a crying child before.'

The sheer intensity, coupled with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠incredible volume, was bewildering.

When I was little, I'd never been able to show such raw feelings so openly—I'd buried them deep.

'Because I thought expressing them would just be a burden on my parents.'

This boy was pouring his emotions out completely, like paint across a blank canvas.

"S-stop crying. If you wait, Emerald will come back."

"WAAAAAAAH—!!"

"Haah."

Thick tears dropped one after another from the loudly wailing boy's eyes.

A moment ago he'd seemed almost like an older student, but watching him cry like that, he was now unmistakably a tiny child.

Swish—

'The jewel is the emerald, obviously.'

The Leaflet, bearing text related to my quest, materialized anew between the boy and me.

Caught in the lantern's glow, the letters shone all the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠brighter.

[Hand over the jewel, just as the 'Happy Prince' once did.]

"Waaah—!!"

The quest said to hand over the jewel as the Happy Prince had done—but now was hardly the right moment.

Shoving a jewel into a child's hands just because he was crying could hardly count as the correct answer.

'And it isn't even a plain "hand over the jewel" instruction—there's added description attached, which means...'

First things first: I had to put a stop to this deafening racket.

I drew in a deep breath and engaged my diaphragm. Then, with a booming voice rising all the way up from my core—

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!"

"!!"

I'd half-wondered whether it would work on a child this young.

Thankfully, the moment I barked out my warning at full volume, the boy snapped his mouth shut, too startled to even think about crying further.

'Good. Now, while he's stunned—change the subject, fast.'

"What is it you want?"

"Em-er-ald, sniff—"

"If you want to see Emerald, stop crying!"

"Sniff..."

The boy made a small hiccupping sound and finally managed a nod.

The boy who'd been bawling like a baby had left my ears ringing.

'Children, it turns out, are not the sort of beings I want to be around—cute factor aside.'

"Then let's go find Emerald."

"Really? You'll come with me?"

"That's right."

"Yay!!"

The boy, who'd been sobbing his heart out mere moments ago, transformed in an instant and cheered.

'Though even if we go looking for Emerald, I doubt we'll find anything resembling an ordinary walk.'

I had a rough idea of how that suspicious nighttime stroll—parents and dog departing together—was going to end.

With one last careful look at the boy, I asked:

"Do you really want to find Emerald?"

"Yes. Of course. After his walk, Emerald will be so terribly tired."

"......"

There was no coaxing the child any further.

Even if I stayed in this shed and waited for his parents, the outcome would end up much the same.

In the end, my goal here was not the psychological protection of this child. It was the success of my quest.

"Don't regret it later."

"? Why would I?"

At the boy's innocent, unclouded face, I could only heave a deep sigh and rise to my feet.