The Mad Dog of the Shantytown
"Sigh..." Letting out a heavy, involuntary sigh, Jack forced his leaden legs to move. He had been dispatched by Tollin to investigate the Shantytown, the district in the Capital where the city's street urchins gathered.
Grief over his fallen comrades and a burning resentment toward the turncoats—these conflicting emotions warred in Jack's mind, leaving him utterly bewildered. Among those captured were brothers-in-arms who had lived under the same roof and fought back-to-back with him. Remembering those times filled him with profound sorrow, yet the sickening realization that it might have all been a lie made his skin crawl.
What baffled him most, however, was the reaction of the prisoners in the dungeon. They had readily admitted to breaking formation and abandoning their posts while escorting the Young Duke of Fides's carriage. All five of them. With eerily serene faces, they had calmly confessed to their treason.
When questioned about who was pulling the strings, they claimed to know nothing. No matter the pressure applied, they spoke in unison, reciting their answers as if reading from a script. This continued until Tollin finally gave the grim, resolute order to begin torture. Then, as if they had been waiting for that exact cue, all five prisoners died at the exact same hour on the same day, exhibiting identical symptoms. They left this world without giving Jack even a moment to brace himself.
Frustration welled up in his chest once more. Jack scratched his head vigorously and trudged onward. On second thought, perhaps being sent out on this mission was a blessing in disguise. It gave him something else to focus on, a chance to step back and organize his thoughts objectively.
Shaking off his turbulent thoughts, Jack approached a dilapidated shack that looked ready to collapse at any moment. When he had questioned a beggar sitting by the roadside, the man had pointed him toward this blue-roofed house, mentioning that a child seemed to live there. The paint was almost entirely peeled off, leaving only a patch of blue about the size of two palms, but it was the house nonetheless.
Jack knocked gently on the door. Knock, knock. There was no answer. He knocked again, taking extra care not to break the door, which was patched up so many times it looked ready to crumble at a touch. Knock, knock, knock.
"...out, ...might be." A faint presence and a tiny voice, clearly not an adult's, drifted through the door. Jack lowered his hand, which he had raised to knock again, and pressed his ear close to the wood. Silence fell once more, but he was certain someone was inside. A very small child, at that.
Normally, a man of Jack's age might find dealing with young children awkward, but fortunately, he had recently spent a lot of time guarding the Young Duke of Fides and conversing with him. Confident that he could easily win a child over, Jack cleared his throat to make his voice sound as non-threatening as possible.
"Ahem. I'm not a bad person. I came because I heard there were children living in this old, dangerous place."
Despite Jack's calm tone, there was no sound from within. Thinking the child was still frightened, Jack raised his hands in a placating gesture and continued, "I'm an adult who came to help, so you don't have to be afraid."
There were several things Jack had overlooked here. First was his appearance. The intimidating presence of a massive man wearing a black robe to hide his identity was not something that would vanish just because he raised his hands. He failed to realize that the Young Duke, whom he had casually categorized as just another child he saw every day, was the heir of the prestigious Fidus family—which was why the boy never showed fear or felt intimidated by him.
Second was...
"You thug!!! Idiot!!! Thief!!!"
...the fact that a child who acted more like a thug than actual thugs lived in this neighborhood.
"No, calm down!" Jack tried to respond while dodging a barrage of decently sized stones flying his way, but the sudden attack was surprisingly fierce, throwing him off balance. "Wait! Why are you doing this all of a sudden? I didn't come to hurt you."
Having completely regained his composure, Jack spoke calmly to the child who was brandishing a large stone from a distance. He had no idea how those scrawny arms could swing so vigorously.
"I can't hear a word you're saying! Why don't you come over here and say that to my face?!"
Jack frowned at the harsh language coming from the child's mouth. Shaking his head, he ignored the kid and turned back toward the door, only for a stone of a truly unignorable size to fly straight at the back of his head.
If that had hit me, I would have actually died. Jack was appalled as he looked at the size of the stone that had just grazed his head. Where did a scrawny kid like that get the strength to throw such a heavy rock? As Jack stood there dazed, the child yelled again.
"You can't catch me, you old geezer! You beggar who came to the shantytown to beg!!!"
The word "geezer" stung Jack, who was already sensitive about his age. Annoyed, he took a step forward. What is wrong with this kid? Why is he attacking so insanely?
The boy was known among the street kids as the Mad Dog—specifically, Mad Dog Seya. He was a brat who would soon clear Jack's mind of his long-held worries, only to fill it with a completely different kind of frustration.
"Phew." Jack panted heavily. That had been a brutal chase. It was so close. ...I almost had him.
Jack came to his senses and let out a self-deprecating laugh, finding himself standing in a dead-end alley. To think he couldn't even catch a single brat—it was a disgrace that would prevent him from ever calling himself a knight of the Fidus family. The kid was fast, but not at a speed he shouldn't have been able to match.
Yet, for some reason, every time he was about to grab him, the kid would vanish right before his eyes, only to reappear and vanish again. At first, Jack had just planned to catch him, give him a warning, and make friends with a local kid to ask about the layout of the area. But because the chase remained so tantalizingly close and the kid ran far better than expected, he had unconsciously started pursuing him in earnest.
Of course, it was also true that he had been slightly provoked by the insults the kid hurled at him along the way, like "geezer," "old man," or "beardy."
And when he finally snapped out of it, he was at the end of a dead-end alley, and the kid was gone. Jack looked up at the sky. The sun, which had been at its zenith, was already setting. How long have I been running?
During the nearly half-day chase, he had long since taken off his cumbersome robe and tied it around his waist. His clothes, soaked in sweat that had now cooled, were stiff with salt. He worried about reporting back to Tollin. What was he supposed to say?
"I'm back, Lord Tollin. It was just as you suspected. No young children were in sight. However, I went to a place where a child was said to remain, and there, I ended up playing tag with some brat, lost him, and returned only after nightfall."
...This time, he might actually be dismissed from the Duke's estate for a highly dishonorable reason. It was all thanks to that ill-mannered brat. Jack swore that the next time he caught that insolent kid, he would give him a massive noogie, and he started walking back.
Quite a lot of time had passed since I transmigrated into this book. I had met various characters and had the valuable experience of witnessing scenes from the novel unfold right before my eyes. I had seen all sorts of bizarre things by now, but even if I were to leave this place, that sight would probably remain etched in my memory forever.
Selos Abaran, squatting in front of the Seventh Prince's Palace.
Spotting that vibrant red presence on my way back from the Duke's estate, I had detoured to perch on a tree near the palace entrance. From there, I watched the Eighth Prince, who was repeatedly squatting and standing in front of the palace gates with a deeply scowling face.
Uncharacteristically, he would look up at my office window, take a few steps away, and then return while clutching his head. Quite busy, aren't we? Seeing how he was waiting there after storming off as if he'd never return, it seemed he had been thoroughly spooked by last night's commotion.
It wasn't like he had anyone else to talk to. He was already too busy worrying about when his other siblings might discover his secret, and going to someone who could actually help him would require even greater courage. At any rate, since I also had business at the 8th Prince's Palace, I spread my wings to greet him.
"Did you come to my palace yesterday?" Having grown more accustomed to it than during our last meeting, the Eighth Prince asked me with a very serious face, using formal language without stuttering.
"If your mind is already failing you at that age, your elder brother will be quite sad. It was you who came to my palace yesterday."
"..." At my calm reply, he narrowed his eyes and stared at me. But soon, finding nothing on my expressionless face, he clicked his tongue and looked away.
"Did you come all this way just to check that? Did your brother appear in your dreams last night instead of a ghost?"
"There's no way that would happen!! ...sir!"
"Then what is it? You must have a reason for thinking that."
Glaring at me in frustration, he hesitated for a moment at my question before pulling a small pouch from inside his shirt. The way he handled it so carefully was so serious it was almost funny, but knowing that laughing at him now would make him shut his mouth completely, I refrained from provoking him.
"The ghost came again yesterday. Contrary to what 'someone' said about it not being able to cause physical harm, it tried to open the door and come inside."
He emphasized the word "someone" while glaring at me, then continued.
"Then, suddenly, it vanished with the sound of a crow. But in the place where it had been..."
Selos fumbled around, pulled something out of the pouch, and placed it on the table.
"This was there."
It was... a small, shiny acorn. A brief silence hung between the Eighth Prince and me over the brown nut.
"Squeak?"
The silence was broken by the original owner of that baffling nut, who had crept up, spotted the acorn, and peeked over the edge of the table. How incredibly helpful. It seemed that after being thoroughly startled last night, it had spat out one of the acorns stored in its cheek pouches while screaming. It was partly my fault for not checking because I was too busy chasing Yigo Crysa.
At any rate, I didn't think he could deduce anything from this, so I tilted my head and asked,
"An acorn?"
Perhaps feeling embarrassed that the item he had so carefully presented was just a tiny acorn, he couldn't even lift his head at my question.
"I don't think acorns are particularly rare in autumn."
"I happened to spot a squirrel in front of your... brother's room,"
He continued, keeping a wary eye on the squirrel, which couldn't take its eyes off the acorn.
"And this is the only place in the Imperial Palace with an oak tree."
He turned his gaze toward the old oak tree visible outside my office window. He was right. In the Seventh Prince's Palace, where there was no luxury to care about landscaping, we didn't decorate with beautiful trees brought from all over the empire like other places did. An old gardener barely kept the place tidy enough to not look like a complete mess. Nowhere else in the imperial palace would they grow a common oak tree. The one here probably wasn't even planted; it had likely just grown naturally, and everyone was too lazy to cut it down.
Having asked around to find his way here, the Eighth Prince was still staring at the branches swaying in the wind.
"That is indeed a reasonable assumption."
At my response, he looked at me as if asking if I meant it.
"But while this is the only place with an oak tree, are you aware that acorns can be found in any warehouse in the palace?"
Of course, they wouldn't pile up humble acorns in the imperial warehouses where all kinds of precious treasures were stored, so they wouldn't have as many as this place right next to the oak tree.
The Eighth Prince scowled deeply.
"I know. I just... wanted to check, just in case. I only came to ask."
Well, that made sense. On the very night he had consulted me, he discovered that the entity he feared could actually touch him, so he must have wanted to grasp at any straw. That was why he had carefully brought even this worthless acorn.
"Do something about this thing."
Displeased by the squirrel that looked ready to pounce on the acorn at any second, he quickly stuffed the nut back into his pouch.
A squirrel and an acorn...
"Come to think of it, something comes to mind."
A gleam of hope appeared in Selos's eyes.