Sincerity Doesn't Always Get Through
"Gasp!" As the massive figure clad in tattered rags stepped into the room, the Eighth Prince let out a choked wheeze and fainted on the spot.
Fortunately, because Selos Abaran had already been pressing himself tightly against the headboard, he slumped back onto the mattress as he lost consciousness, looking as if he had simply fallen into a peaceful sleep.
At least he won't throw a tantrum about being left to sleep on the floor. It was actually for the best. With no onlookers around, there was nothing to worry about.
Confirming that the Eighth Prince was safely out cold, I hid my small body behind the door and watched Yigo Crysa slowly shuffle into the room, still draped in those filthy rags.
Thud. Thud. Thump. Thump.
It was just as I expected. Yigo Crysa didn't seem to have the slightest interest in Selos Abaran. He merely shuffled aimlessly around the room, never sparing the Eighth Prince a single glance.
The First Princess wasn't interested in Selos Abaran. She was interested in his palace.
I recalled the character settings of the First Princess, Mentil Abaran, from the book, and the dry, indifferent gaze she had cast upon the Eighth Prince during their monthly imperial gatherings.
Her ability was lethal. If she willed it, she could make it impossible for a person to even breathe on their own.
There was only one thing to keep in mind to obtain Mentil's mercy. Mentil Abaran was soft on family—no, only on family.
But Selos Abaran did not meet the conditions to be recognized as family by her. And those who were not family could never obtain Mentil Abaran's mercy.
The reason Selos Abaran feared the First Princess so much was probably because he instinctively sensed that chilling nature of hers. The weak naturally walk on eggshells around the strong.
In short, the First Princess treated Selos like air, and Selos was too terrified of her to ever get close.
Because of this, the First Princess and the Eighth Prince confronting each other in the original story was a tale for much later. At least for now, Selos Abaran held absolutely no interest for her.
Thump. Thud. Still, I couldn't understand why she was letting Yigo Crysa wander around in such a state.
Even as I retraced the original work in my head, Yigo Crysa kept bumping into furniture, falling over, and getting back up as he roamed the room.
If the fainted Eighth Prince had seen this clumsy display, he wouldn't have been trembling so much that he couldn't sleep at night.
Perhaps because the brainwashing wasn't complete yet, he couldn't think or walk properly, bumping into everything like a newly unboxed robot vacuum from my past life.
To be honest, I had only briefly seen the one Assistant Manager Kim brought to the office once, so I couldn't say for sure, but at a glance, he seemed to learn even slower than that artificial intelligence.
Thump. He would grope around for a few steps, then suddenly stomp his foot hard as if malfunctioning, though the sound wasn't very loud since his entire body was wrapped in cloth.
No need to watch any longer. Sneaking up behind his creaking, robot-like frame and ripping off the cloth covering his face didn't take much effort.
With his bare face exposed, Yigo froze, just like last night. Then, he spun around and bolted.
Clinging to his shoulder, I felt the rush of wind resistance from his high speed. Squinting against the stinging wind, I saw the hallway wall rapidly approaching.
I tightened my grip on Yigo Crysa's shoulder. I won't let go this time.
And so, Yigo Crysa vanished with a small squirrel clinging to his shoulder. Tonight, too, the Eighth Prince's Palace welcomed a quiet dawn as if nothing had happened.
Mentil Abaran walked through the damp, dark underground. It was a soggy, muddy place, hard to believe it was only a few steps away from the imperial family's quarters, which were filled with all the shining things of the world.
"Hmm-hmm-hmm—" Mentil Abaran, her bright wheat-colored hair hanging down in stark contrast to her surroundings, hummed softly as she strolled through the space.
It was a week after she had sent Yigo Crysa. Perhaps the eldest son of the Crysa family was further from the loyalty the world spoke of than she thought, as he still hadn't properly executed the order she had given him.
"As expected, this world is full of lies." Murmuring as if singing, she spun around in the spacious underground.
"Don't you think so too?" Now, two people stood in the underground.
Mentil Abaran smiled brightly and looked at Yigo Crysa, who was wrapped in tattered rags.
Waving her hand a few times in front of Yigo Crysa's face as he stared blankly into space with unfocused eyes, she confirmed he was in a state incapable of thought, then met his eyes again.
"But you returned a bit early. Did someone see your face?" Yigo slowly shook his head.
"Then did you find it today?" Yigo Crysa, his former gentility replaced by a lingering dullness, couldn't utter a word and merely let his mouth hang open.
Mentil didn't seem to expect an answer anyway; without waiting for his slow response, she inspected his hands.
"You still haven't found it? You're much slower than I thought." Frowning her beautiful face slightly, she muttered to herself, then raised her delicate fingers and placed them gently on Yigo Crysa's forehead.
"You need something a bit stronger." Nothing makes a human more desperate than survival instincts and their most precious things. Murmuring, Mentil smiled again, her eyes crinkling beautifully.
"One week. You have one week." Her clear, melodious voice echoed through the dark underground.
"If you don't find the book within a week, you will die, and the next member of the Crysa family will be captured." Yigo Crysa, who had been standing blankly until then, flinched violently. And a certain tiny someone hiding in the folds of his rags was forced to feel his breath hitch in that moment.
"So, you're saying the children weren't there?" As soon as morning came, Tollin summoned Jack again and asked sharply.
"Yes, no young children were in sight. Everyone said they didn't care about street urchins, so they didn't even notice if their numbers had decreased."
Indeed, who would care about the useless pests of the streets? Even Tollin himself wouldn't have spared a thought for such lives in his entire existence if not for the late Duke of Fides.
"Even if the construction was halted, relief supplies should have been distributed regularly."
"Yes, that's what's strange. The ledgers and documents clearly record that the relief supplies were properly distributed." Pale, who was standing nearby, pulled out a stack of papers.
"But the local merchants said that because making a living became so hard, many young children died."
"Hmm..." Tollin's brow furrowed at Jack's additional report. If the goods had simply been embezzled midway, it would be a simple matter. But an ominous premonition flashed through Tollin's mind that it might be related to the children's disappearance.
The children the Young Duke had seen were also said to be on the verge of starving to death. Those children still hadn't been found.
Since they had no distinct features other than wearing filthy clothes, the only clue to find them was the high-quality coat the Young Duke had given them.
Contrary to his expectation that they would sell it immediately to get money, the Young Duke's coat was not found in any shop or market.
Either they were smarter than expected, or they had already suffered the same fate as the other children. Tollin forced back the negative thoughts creeping in and focused.
"They can't all have disappeared. The Young Duke mentioned hearing during their conversation that other children were still around."
"Yes, there was a place suspected to still have children living in it. Though we lost them because some rascal of a kid interfered midway." Jack grimaced, recalling the fast-footed kid who kept calling him an old man.
Tollin nodded. "Right, you mentioned that kid too. Jack, continue searching for the remaining children in the area as you were doing. And the children the Young Duke is looking for as well."
Unaware that the "rascal" Jack spoke of and the child the Young Duke was looking for were the exact same person, Tollin ordered Jack to do two tasks that were actually one.
"And Pale, secretly investigate the situation at the distribution sites. If I go, they'll notice since I visit too often."
"Yes, sir." Once Pale and Jack left, Tollin, left alone in his office, shuffled through the documents Pale had left behind.
The Young Duke had said they were children barely surviving by risking their lives to beg from passing nobles. Even though they could have gotten at least bread and milk if they went to the free soup kitchen near the shelter.
The fact that they didn't go to receive relief supplies even when they were on the verge of starvation meant they must have caught wind of something happening. Since they were smart kids, they wouldn't have died.
Tollin hoped the children weren't dead. It wasn't out of some boundless love for humanity. It was mostly because he wanted to uphold the wishes of the late Duke of Fides.
Furthermore, this was a request from the Young Duke. It had been a long time since the Young Duke had actively requested anything since the Duke of Fides passed away. He didn't want to see the child disappointed.
"What a mess," Jack muttered blankly in front of the blue-roofed house in the Shantytown, which he had finally found after two days.
The house, which had been dilapidated to begin with, now had its door completely smashed in. Comforting himself with the thought that at least he wouldn't have to coax the children this time, Jack stepped awkwardly inside.
The interior was even more decayed than the door or roof suggested from the outside. In the house, which was narrower than the smallest storage room in the Duke's estate, there was the smell of mold, a faint scent of medicine, and the pungent odor of extreme poverty.
Could children really live in a place like this? He couldn't be sure just by the presence, but the child inside was quite young. A tiny lump of a kid who looked to be four years old at most.
Clatter. Jack turned his head at the sound of small footsteps behind him.
"Eek!" It was a filthy child. A small child with shaggy, dark brown hair. Looking to be exactly four years old.
Though he looked even smaller because he was curled up in fear, he was definitely much younger than the Young Duke.
"Don't be scared. I came to help." Jack spoke gently, approaching the child.
To reiterate, Jack had far too imposing a physique to approach children. The child began to tremble violently, and the awkward standoff continued for a moment.
"Jin! What are you doing here?!" A familiar voice struck Jack's eardrums.
"Damn it, come here!" Snatching the child in an instant, a small figure rapidly moved away.
"Wait! You're that kid from last time, aren't you?! I came to help you guys!" Snapping out of it, Jack hastily rushed past the worn-out threshold.
He saw the retreating figure, moving at an incredible speed even while carrying the small child on his back.
"I said stop!" Despite Jack's shout, the kid only raised his middle finger.