The Dawn Child (2)
“What…?”
“Pfft, it seems you truly know nothing at all.” Shylock let out a gleeful cackle. “You should have upheld the old traditions. Your Apostles are never truly free, after all.”
“Speak plainly.”
“Oh, poor Belcard. It looks like you’re about to lose both your daughter and your granddaughter right here, today.”
“Shut your mouth!”
Matthew slammed Shylock to the floor and drove a dagger straight into his mouth. The dark blade blended perfectly with the shadowed surroundings. Matthew pressed it deeper until it reached the back of the man’s throat and growled.
“Keh, keeeek, kueeeek.”
“Open that filthy mouth one more time and I’ll slit your throat, then go rescue my granddaughter myself.”
“Th-the Dawn Child!”
“What?”
The ominous word made Matthew loosen the hand choking Shylock.
“Your granddaughter is a Dawn Child.”
Dawn Child. Also known as the child of twilight, a being born with both yin and yang mana dwelling within their body. Yet the two opposing forces reject each other; no human flesh can withstand them.
In the distant past, when the sun and moon existed in harmony, such children were revered as those blessed by both deities. Mediators between sun and moon. Human Apostles granted the blessings of both so they might speak for humanity between the two celestial beings.
A Dawn Child, born from the union of a child of the sun and a child of the moon, receives the blessings of both gods and overcomes the limits of mortal flesh. They are meant to serve both deities and be honored accordingly. However, if they are not acknowledged, their body will fail to endure the backlash and perish. Thus, it becomes both a blessing and a curse.
“How else could your son-in-law, a mere orphan, have become a priest? He must have been born with the moon’s blessing. And your daughter is undeniably of the sun’s lineage.”
“…”
“It’s not without reason that contact with Luna’s followers was forbidden after the Great Fall. Though the rule has become little more than a formality now, who could have guessed? That after hundreds of years, a Dawn Child would be born!”
“The method.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a method. That’s why you’re blathering on like this. Tell me.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Shylock rubbed his bruised throat and muttered with satisfaction.
“I serve a certain Apostle.”
“You mean Leonhardt?”
“Oh, hardly. What use would I have in serving a toothless tiger from a ruined order? No, I speak of the Apostle of Lady Luna, who has promised me eternal Eden.”
Matthew spat the words with utter contempt. “You filthy traitor.”
“If you simply listen to me from now on, Belcard, I can personally ask him to bring holy water. Once the yin energy of the Dawn Child is suppressed, you can control the yang energy yourself. After all, you are an Apostle, aren’t you? Isn’t that right?”
“…Are you certain?”
“It means she’ll have to spend her life bedridden, since it is the blessing of an Apostle rather than a god. But isn’t that better than letting her die?”
Shylock staggered to his feet and jerked his chin toward the door.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?”
Creeeak—
The granddaughter born with a cursed fate.
The child lay in a warm cradle. Her bright golden eyes were the exact image of Victoria’s. And… the deep, dark blue eyes belonged to Jensen.
Eyes were the internal manifestation of one’s temperament and the gateway through which the world entered the soul. The mismatched colors were the clear sign of two clashing forces, each perceiving the world in its own way.
Heterochromia. The undeniable mark of a Dawn Child.
The baby wailed at the top of her lungs, as if something troubled her. Whether she knew her mother was dead or not, the golden eyes she had inherited from her mother would never shine again. A white cloth now covered that face forever.
Victoria.
Matthew gripped the hand of his utterly unfilial daughter, who had left him with one final request before abandoning him so cruelly. With his other arm, he lifted the child.
Cold and warmth. Life and death. Feeling both extremes at once, he turned his gaze.
The priest and the midwife avoided his eyes, turning their heads away. No doubt that priest had reported everything.
“Very well, Shylock. I accept. What must I do?”
“Excellent. From this moment on, you are no longer Belcard.”
A greedy smile spread across his weak-looking face.
“Let’s start by crafting you a new identity.”
Drip. Drip.
Water droplets falling on his crown scattered his thoughts. Was it raining outside? He didn’t know how many floors underground he was, but if mere rainwater could leak in, this underground fortress deserved to be called shoddy construction. Given the technological level that couldn’t even begin to approach modern standards, expecting better was foolish. Still, if the leak was intentional, it was a truly sick form of amusement.
The droplets falling through his hazy mind forcibly sharpened his consciousness. At regular intervals.
Drip. Drip.
In that maddeningly foggy state of awareness, he heard footsteps. A click, then a heavy grind. Had daytime come? That was better. If the jailer who was dying to see his broken expression slapped him awake, at least he’d have the strength to spit in the bastard’s face.
He shook his head from side to side, forcing his mind back into focus.
You, ever the progressive soul who refuses to bow to fate!
You have finally raised the flag of rebellion. One could even call it ungrateful without it sounding strange.
But a conviction you cannot bear responsibility for is hollow!
You have been captured.
Yet your loyal comrades, who refuse to abandon even a wretch like you, have risked everything to find you.
Upon seeing them, you remember what must be done.
Will you choose to flee?
Or will you light the flames of revolution once more?
Or perhaps, reflecting on your actions and realizing your place, you may choose to surrender.
Wouldn’t that be the kinder choice for your poor comrades?
Time Remaining: 24 hours
“Huh…?”
A quest…? It only popped up now, and this time it’s an escape mission? Never mind that—what did it mean by comrades?
“Brother.”
“Oppa. What the hell happened to you?”
A shaggy-haired man and a woman with a short bob. A combination he had seen many times before. His mind was still foggy, but if he wasn’t hallucinating…
“Jun? May?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what friends are for. If we don’t save you, who will? Long time no see, and look at that handsome face—what a mess. It’s all wrinkled up.”
Jun brought down his long sword on the chains. Clang— Clang— Not even a scratch. They had said it was specially forged with his strength in mind, but apparently even a sword couldn’t cut through it.
“Aish, you idiot. How can you just try to brute-force everything?”
May clicked her tongue, stretched out her hand, and pulled a bundle of keys from her pocket. With a click, she unlocked the shackles binding him.
Jun looked as indifferent as ever, despite how absurd the situation was. Why were these two here? They should have left Zachsen long ago. The fact that they were still around meant…
“So you really didn’t leave…”
“Well, about that…”
“Ta-da! Surprise~.”
Just as that old bastard Matthew had said.
“Is Rebecca… at Matthew’s house?”
“Not right now, brother. She’s waiting at the safe house I prepared.”
“Ehhh, I came rushing here in such a hurry, but you don’t seem very happy to see me? You don’t even look that tired… and you already know everything… How boring…”
If this counted as looking fine, what had she been expecting? That he’d be missing an arm and a leg?
As his spinning head struggled to organize the chaotic thoughts, May twisted a lock of her hair around her finger with an amused grin.
“Oh, right! Since you already know all the minor stuff, oppa, I’ve got two plans for you. One super cool, one not so cool. Wanna hear them?”
He had known this kid for over ten years, but she was still hard to get used to. She definitely hadn’t been like this in the beginning.
“The less cool one first.”
“Boo, a boring escape. Hmph…”
If an escape was boring, what exactly did she consider fun? Wasn’t escaping enough?
“The crown prince is visiting the baron’s castle today. That means most of the guards have been pulled away. Then Matthew suddenly tossed us a map with all the weak points in security marked on it.”
She pouted and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The meticulously sketched map clearly showed escape routes, secret passages, and traps.
“Following this map is the less cool plan…”
An escape route provided by Matthew.
“If we follow this map, there’s only one path.”
“Exactly. If there’s an ambush waiting at the exit, we’d be dead in seconds.”
“Then what’s the cool plan?”
“Oppa, do you still have any strength left?”
“I’m pretty exhausted, but I won’t slow you down. You know how sturdy I am.”
“Then… let’s just kill them all!”
May flashed a bloodthirsty smile.
“You know it. They’re all trash anyway. Everyone in this branch is garbage. Just a bunch of back-alley thugs. Do you know what they call us? They call us the Orphans.”
…That was a name he had come up with. He decided he would take that secret to his grave.
“If we leave this trash alive, they’ll only come after us later. They’re all worthless trash with no real skill. They’ll just be a nuisance. Might as well kill them all while we escape.”
Her smile was vicious.
“Oppa, do you still trust Matthew?”
She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth curling up.
“He’s the kind of guy who just watched and said he was ‘so sorry’ while our friends were dying.”
He no longer trusted Matthew either.
“He acts all kind and caring, but in the end he always stabs you in the back. Even if the route is safe, I don’t want to owe that man anything. So.”
She let out a mischievous giggle.
“Let’s charge straight through the front gate.”