<Chapter 10>

“Who’s the one backing you?”

“Well…”

“I’ll say it! I’ll tell you everything, so spare me!”

Sensing the urgency of the situation, the merchant crawled forward and shoved the emcee aside. As the two clung to his pant legs, vying to confess, Kar’s face hardened even further.

“Speak.”

“It’s Baron Gires! And!”

Would confessing like this truly save them? Shaking off his anxiety, the emcee quickly shouted.

“Viscount Hazanne! Viscount Hazanne provided the funds!”

“Viscount Hazanne…”

“That’s all of it!”

Kar glanced at the masked figure standing behind the emcee and the merchant. With a brief bow, the masked figures swiftly vanished, leaving the merchant and emcee prostrate on the ground, desperately begging for their lives.

Those who preyed on others for profit often clung to life with unusual tenacity. Though the world was one of survival of the fittest, these were the ones who forgot that humans were creatures endowed with reason. Even though this was just another routine sweep of a slave trading ring, the sight of the captive slaves always ignited a surge of anger within him.

“Gail.”

“Yes.”

The masked man called Gail drew his sharply honed blade. At the glint of the edge, the faces of the merchant and emcee blanched white. Gail extended the sword toward Kar and stepped back.

“Huff! Please, please!”

“Mercy! Graaah!”

In a single stroke, the emcee’s neck was severed. The merchant’s pants darkened at the crotch as he stared, his bladder releasing unnoticed, at the head rolling with eyes still open in shock.

The sight of a head that had been alive and moving moments ago tumbling across the floor was truly grotesque. When he snapped his gaze away, those serene navy eyes were fixed precisely on him. An eerie sense of intimidation washed over him. Suddenly, a conversation with an information broker, dismissed as mere gossip and laughed off, resurfaced in his mind.

‘You know, lately there’ve been rumors of slave rings and thief guilds getting wiped out by a single person? Better watch yourself.’

‘Heh, with all the mercenaries I command? Don’t peddle exaggerated tales as info.’

“You’re…! Urk!”

The merchant’s head, severed from his body, rolled away. Gail, watching from behind, thought it was a clean death compared to the weight of their crimes. Kar’s darkened pupils regained their dull hue.

“I forgot to ask about the troll.”

Kar shook the viscous blood from his sword and tilted his head regretfully. Though it piqued his curiosity, the ones who could answer were now cold corpses.

“My lord, may I ask why you changed the plan?”

The original plan had been to signal at Kar’s cue just before the auction started, evacuate the people, and capture Baron Gires—the backer—alive. After the auction began, security would tighten, increasing the risk of botching the operation.

Yet Kar hadn’t signaled until the auction was underway, and only after ascending the auction stage himself did he send the signal for the altered plan. For his lord, who despised unnecessary complications, this behavior was inexplicable.

“Just because.”

At Kar’s reply, Gail’s expression beneath the mask turned ambiguous. His lord was one who found many things bothersome. He even deemed infiltration a hassle, opting instead for the outlandish act of allowing himself to be captured by the slave traders.

“…Is it because of that boy?”

Gail recalled the white-haired boy who had summoned Fire Arrows with a radiant smile. He was certainly memorable. Despite his small frame, his unyielding spirit and decisiveness were impressive even to Gail.

The charred troll corpse was undoubtedly the boy’s handiwork as well. As Gail surveyed the surroundings and pieced together the events, he caught sight of Kar’s face and held his breath for a moment. With Kar’s lips slightly upturned in a smile, Gail’s curiosity about the white-haired boy only grew.

* * *

The group of sixteen, lacking the funds to hire a carriage, trudged on through the dawn dew, walking and walking some more. Only after a long trek did they arrive before a grand mansion.

The unusual composition of the group converging on the mansion put the guards on high alert, straightening their postures rigidly. When the weary Her Helian stepped forward from the crowd, one guard blocking the entrance gradually widened his eyes in astonishment.

“Lady Her?!”

“What?! Lady Her?!”

Her Helian, who had vanished without a trace—not even a single hair found since her disappearance. The guards leaped in shock and gasped at the appearance of this astonishing figure.

“I know it’s presumptuous at dawn, but may I see my uncle?”

“What?! Hurry and inform the lord!”

One guard dashed frantically into the mansion. The others flung open the main gate to allow the group comfortable entry. After a brief wait, an elderly gentleman rushed out from within, not even fully donning his robe.

“Uncle Lan!”

“Her, is that really you! What on earth happened!”

The elderly man enveloped Her Helian in a fierce embrace the moment he reached her. His niece, whom he’d feared lost forever, had appeared out of nowhere. As unfamiliar people crowded in, the tense Naias tugged at Laren’s fabric.

“Ren, I’m scared.”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

“No, this isn’t the time. Let’s go inside first and hear the full story.”

Even after scrutinizing his niece’s face thoroughly, the elderly man’s pupils trembled. He could scarcely tell if this was dream or reality. As he checked her face once more and led them toward the mansion, Her Helian twisted her body to point behind her.

“Uncle, these people are my saviors. It’s a sudden request, but I’d be grateful if you could receive them as well.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Naturally! The dawn is chill. Please, come in, all of you. You there—hurry and send word to Viscount Helian!”

The elderly man welcomed them with a broad, hospitable expression. Whether it was the release of the tension he’d been harboring or the sense of safety within secure walls, Laren felt a wave of accumulated fatigue crashing over him.

‘We made it.’

The group, exhaling similar sighs of relief, hesitated but followed Laren’s lead. Introduced as Her Helian’s saviors, they were treated with utmost courtesy by the servants summoned by the elderly man. The guest room assigned to Naias and Laren exuded a spotlessly clean and cozy atmosphere.

“Wow, this is my first time in a place like this!”

Naias, her face alight with excitement, scampered around the room, stroking the walls and touching the decorations with bouncy steps. Impressive—she still had energy to run around like that. Laren’s gaze, shadowed by his pallor, trailed after her.

“I hope you rest deeply.”

Her Helian, following behind, smiled with a face that had finally relaxed its tension. The young lady, who had endured a nightmarish ordeal, continued to reveal unexpected facets of herself. Even though she could have rested first, she thoughtfully ensured the guests’ comfort, dismissing the servants and personally guiding the group.

“Thank you.”

“…Such words are mine to say.”

With a shy smile, Her Helian left the room so the two could rest comfortably. As Laren surveyed the cozy bedroom, a languid weariness seeped into his body.

This might have been the longest day of his life. Slave traders, of all things—he let out a self-deprecating sigh and sank into the pale sofa.

“Ren, Ren! Look at that statue!”

Naias, who had been darting about busily, seemed to have seen enough and now approached Laren’s side. As he lounged on the sofa and merely nodded, Naias mimicked the gesture and fiddled with the hem of his fabric.

“But why have you been wrapped in that cloth since earlier?”

“Huh? Oh, this is…”

“Did you get hurt?!”

“W-wait! Naias!”

They say a child’s innocence can be terrifying—Naias reached out and yanked the fabric away before he could resist. The white hair tucked beneath cascaded out in waves.

At the sight of the unfamiliar face revealed, Naias froze, still clutching the cloth. Haha, oh dear. Laren could only offer an awkward smile as he looked at the stiffened Naias.

“Ren! You’re a girl—! Mmph!”

“Shh, shh!”

When Naias, snapping back to her senses too late, let out a piercing squeal, Laren gasped and clamped his hand over her mouth. Sudden commotion might bring servants rushing in.

Naias must have been thoroughly startled, as even with her mouth covered, she tugged at the white hair to verify the truth. Only after extracting a promise that she wouldn’t shout did Laren release his hand.

“Ren, you’re a girl? But no, you were definitely a human boy?”

She didn’t need to whisper in such a tiny voice, but she was an elf who kept her promises faithfully. The saying that elves were a race bound by oaths wasn’t just idle talk. Naias, perched on Laren’s lap, stared up at him intently without releasing her grip on his hair.

“Well, um…”

“Why are you pretending to be a boy now? Why?”

“It’s not exactly pretending to be a boy… more like… Nooo!”

Before he could finish his reply, Naias’s hand landed on his chest. Startled by the unexpected assault, Laren let out a yelp and covered his own mouth.

“Goodness, Ren, how can you yell like that! But you’re really a girl? Why were you a boy before?”

“Uh… Could you remove your hand first?”

“Okay!”

After pulling her hand away, Naias tugged at his hair again to confirm. With sleep now out of the question, Laren let out a small sigh. On his lap sat a young girl with eyes sparkling brightly.

“So, you see…”

Laren’s throat-clearing echoed through the bedroom. A tale titled “The Runaway Chronicles,” embellished with a touch of exaggeration, filled the long dawn hours.

* * *

“Mmm…”

Perhaps because he’d been confined to a dark warehouse, the sunlight streaming through the window felt unfamiliar. Laren burrowed under the plush blanket up to the top of his head and rolled around. Naias gently shook the lump tumbling across the bed. To think she’d listened to stories all through the dawn and was already up, bounding around the room with such energy.

“Ren, are you going to sleep more?”

“…I’d like to. What time is it?”

“They said lunch has passed!”

Then it’s time for lunch. He hadn’t had a proper meal since then. Emerging from the blanket, Laren stretched, prompting Naias to exclaim in admiration.

“You’re a human boy again!”

“My mana must have mostly recovered while I slept.”

His hair, when touched, was short around the ears again, and his fingers had lengthened once more. Even for him, adapting to these changes was challenging. As Naias watched him fiddle with his hair, she propped her chin on her hand, seeming somewhat dissatisfied.

“I liked the human girl look better.”

“Why?”

“Your hair was pretty.”

Hair, huh—Laren couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip through his teeth at her earnest murmur.

“That gives me another reason to lift the curse soon. But I’m pretty handsome like this, aren’t I?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Kar was more handsome.”

“…That’s harsh. Kar’s just a child.”

“What’s that got to do with being handsome!”

“Where on earth did you learn to say things like that?”

As Laren replied lightly, a absurd thought suddenly struck him—that being kidnapped from the carriage by slave traders might have been a stroke of luck. What strange fate. If he hadn’t been captured there, he couldn’t have rescued this young girl.

Knock knock—the sound at the door prompted Naias to leap from the bed and scamper over on her little feet.

“Who is it?”

A laugh burst from him at the sight of her opening the door herself.

She could have just answered. The maids seemed to share the sentiment, smiling brightly down at the girl grasping the doorknob. Naias, momentarily hesitant at this first encounter with human kindness, scurried back and hid behind Ren.

“Is there anything uncomfortable?”

“Thanks to you, no.”

As Laren smiled, his blue eyes curved warmly. The maids stared blankly at his face reflecting in the sunlight before hastily averting their gazes. Why are they acting like that? Perplexed, he touched his ear, and again the maids turned their heads away.

“W-we’ll assist with your ablutions.”

“It’s alright. I’ll handle it myself.”

“But…”

“I’m not used to it.”

Laren raised his hand in polite refusal. He hadn’t yet adjusted to his body, and having others attend to him would be even more uncomfortable. Besides, he preferred not to reveal his body, bruised from the slave traders’ ordeal.

“Ah, rather than me, could you attend to this girl?”