CHAPTER 50

Peter sat quietly in his seat, gazing at the wooden box placed in front of him.

A sturdy wooden box.

It bore intricate patterns that could be described as either splendid or eerie.

"The Count Rabnoma's family was the only family in the west capable of upholding the oath."

"I understand."

Many priests, including Andrew, were folding their hands in front of Peter.

This is because they knew that they were placing a heavy burden on the lord of this land.

"....I will send knights with you. I will uphold the oath to the best of my ability."

Peter stood up from his seat, addressing the priests.

He promised to provide the best support he could offer.

He said he would do his best to move the dragon's traces, which were proof of the oath.

"Thank you, Count."

"Feel free to stay as guests until you're ready."

As he watched the departing priests with bowed heads, Peter let out a small sigh.

"Indeed, I made the right decision."

"They had no other choice."

Rabnoma, the ruler of the western region and keeper of the oath, had fallen.

And within the crumbling mansion of Rabnoma, the priests were on their way to retrieve the old oath, destined for the rightful heir.

"..."

Feeling frustrated by the inevitable, Peter took a moment to gaze out the window.

Fortunately, there, amidst the heavy atmosphere of this place, was a welcome sight.

"It's been a while since I've seen that flag."

The carriage was moving.

Adorned with a single small flag.

The flag was one Peter had often seen in his youth.

"I guess we can take a little rest."

"You must be exhausted."

Peter nodded at Lagmus's response.

He would have done the same.

He could fully understand the boy's feelings.

A boy carrying a banner that only knights who were their own masters (Knight Banneret) could carry was leaving the mansion.

Returning.

To his homeland.

To do what he must.

※※※※

Once again today, there was a boy wandering the back alleys of Shoara.

While most of the residents of the alleys clenched their hungry stomachs, the boy was born under slightly worse conditions than them.

Jet-black skin.

Born with the target of disdain and discrimination, the boy with black skin was someone who couldn't help but be ignored even in the darkest corners of Shoara, known as the Back Alley.

"...There's nowhere to even work around here."

Ned, the boy with black skin.

He had to get up once he opened his eyes, and once he got up, he should at least eat something, but these days, finding a meal anywhere in Shoara was tough reality.

'It wasn't this bad back in the old days…'

Ned rolled his eyes silently, surveying every nook and cranny of the alley.

Those who had made a living by begging were completely helpless and just rolled their eyes, and those who did have work could only sigh as they looked at their cheeks getting thinner despite working all night.

Everyone was bleeding.

To the money bug craving for gold.

"Those were the good old days..."

While sighing inappropriately for his age, Ned's gaze naturally drifted towards a certain building.

When people were in distress, they tended to recall the good old days.

'Now, if I try pickpocketing there, I might not even make it out alive.'

The building Ned was looking at was "Rose's Smiles".

It used to have a blunt boss and a friendly madam.

But now, everyone who used to be there was either dead or sold off.

The once cheerful laughter of the prostitutes at Rose's Smiles, always accompanied by pleasant music, was now replaced by nothing but mournful cries and the shouts of thugs.

Even if Ned were caught pickpocketing there now, there would be no blond boy to save him.

'Hmm?'

As Ned lamented the past and sighed over the present, he spotted some out-of-place individuals in the alley.

A chubby man who looked like he had money and a sharp-looking man who seemed like a mercenary.

Ned slightly stuck out his tongue as he watched them heading straight towards the street where the Rose's Smiles was located, as if they had come to relieve their accumulated desires.

"...I guess I'll give it a shot."

The man who looked like a mercenary seemed to be a bodyguard, but Ned figured it was worth the risk at this point.

As long as he didn't die when caught, it was fine.

He couldn't rely on his big brother forever.

"..."

Hunger and impatience clouded the judgment of the young boy.

Slowly trailing behind the two men, Ned adeptly concealed himself among the scattered debris, his careful approach worthy of praise.

'Now.'

However, Ned was not skilled enough as a pickpocket to make a living, as someone had once put it.

"..."

The mercenary, noticing the black boy approaching from behind, naturally reached for the hilt of his sword.

Though the tension was rising, Ned remained oblivious.

His lack of broad vision was his weakness despite his concentration being good.

Ned is trying to approach the chubby man.

The mercenary is preparing to draw his sword at Ned's approach.

In the midst of impending disaster, today is the moment when another end is about to fall in the back alley.

"You're still as stupid as ever, huh?"

Snap!

Suddenly, someone intruded between them.

A man who enters so naturally from a blind spot that the mercenary could not have predicted and leaves like the wind.

"Oof!"

Ned clutched the back of his head, which felt numb, and looked at the man walking past him at a fast pace.

The blonde hair he saw a lot of times somewhere.

Even his gait seemed familiar.

"What the?"

Yet Ned couldn't quite place the boy's image back to the days when he used to sell candles at Rose's Smiles.

He seemed too confident and imposing for that.

"Oh, I missed it."

The boy, who missed today's prey but gained tomorrow's sun, knew nothing but cursing under his breath.

Toward the blond man who had just hit the back of his head.

※※※※

As twilight descended and darkness crept in, there were shops that illuminated faint lights.

Among them, one place stood out.

Among the shops selling gorgeous flowers, there was one place where men were particularly flocking.

Once, it used to be Rose's Smiles, but now people's attention was drawn to another establishment.

"Hey, over here!"

"I'm next time! Let's hang out together!"

"The one with the most money calls the shots! Marcella! Make me a drink!"

"..."

Men with eager eyes shouted from the back of the bar, where a woman was fixing her makeup.

She used to have lush black hair that anyone would envy, but as time passed, her hair was losing its luster.

Despite the glamorous makeup and jewelry, her fading beauty couldn't be concealed, but perhaps she didn't care.

Even now, men are throwing away gold coins stained with desire to have her, who was once a symbol of the back alleys.

"Marcella, if you're ready, we need to leave soon."

A middle-aged woman with a long cigarette in her mouth approached Marcella from behind and spoke.

The smoke she exhaled from her cigarette was tantalizing.

"We need to take in at least one more to settle the debt. If you didn't, you wouldn't be able to get out of here until your body decomposes and falls apart."

The middle-aged woman, puffing on her cigarette, smirked at Marcella with every wrinkle etched on her face.

"..."

Though it was mockery disguised as advice, Marcella didn't respond.

Anger, sadness, or fear.

She knew that all the negative emotions emanating from her were like sweet liquor to the woman behind her.

"...Let's see how long that confidence lasts."

The middle-aged woman, displeased by Marcella's lack of reaction, reached behind her to stroke Marcella's chin and growled softly. But Marcella simply smiled without a hint of tension.

"Live long, madam."

"....."

The response didn't bend Marcella, it only crushed her momentarily. With a disapproving look, Marcella watched the madam leave the dressing room, then resumed her makeup.

Although her reflection in the mirror looked desolate, Marcella chose to add another layer of makeup instead of shedding tears. 

She was aware that she had climbed too high for someone who merely sold her body. And the alleys of Shoara were filled with people who would give heartfelt applause at any time for those who fell.

"....Still, this much is remarkable," Marcella softly laughed, smiling sadly for herself in the space meant for her alone.

Even if her body was torn apart by the agony of falling, she was still one of the victors of this alley, at least someone who had chosen her own fate, even the way to destruction.

"Come out!" The madam's sharp cry made Marcella force a smile and rise from her seat.

She adorned herself not with natural charm but with forced glamor through heavy makeup.

"Marcella!"

"Here! Take my coins!"

As she appeared under the dazzling lights, the men began to shout. Marcella sat quietly, observing the men before her. Pitiful animals dominated by desire were gathered there.

"······."

Before her were countless bottles and glasses, although she knew how to cook, she had no idea how to make alcohol. 

In truth, they were irrelevant items. They were there to serve the man who bid the highest price, to make him the victor of the day as he indulged in the fading scent of flowers. Because that was all there was to it.

"Here! Here! I bid 1 gold!"

"1 gold? I bid 2 gold!"

"Can we pool our money? The two of us will bid 3 gold together!"

Marcella closed her eyes quietly as she heard the raucous shouts of the men. Although the males in front were throwing gold coins, their coins wouldn't even reach her feet. She was bound by the chains of debts forcibly imposed by one-armed Jack.

The madam who had just mocked Marcella was now smiling. 

Even though she might be a fading flower, she was truly admirable for producing golden honey.

"Well then..."

As the madam picked up her long pipe, intending to auction Marcella to the highest bidder,

"100 gold coins."

A voice resonated quietly under the empty stairs, spreading with such clarity and strength that everyone turned their heads.

"······What?"

"I bid 100 gold."

With the madam's astonishment, a creaking sound echoed as someone ascended the worn-out steps.

"······!"

Marcella shuddered involuntarily and closed her eyes as she heard a screeching sound in her ears.

Marcella was letting out a silent scream as she heard the sound of the man who had brought destruction to Rose's Smiles stepping on her.

Creak...

She accepted everything calmly, but the memories of that day still deeply pierced Marcella's soul, stirring up wounds as fresh as ever.

"······Excuse me, did you say 100 gold?"

The madam of the establishment asked the man ascending the stairs to confirm if she had heard correctly. 

Even the men who had been lusting moments ago now stared wide-eyed at the sudden intruder bidding such a large amount.

However, the man who ascended confidently didn't say a word and simply strode towards where Marcella was sitting.

"Can I place an order here?"

"······Yes, but..."

Although the bid was absurd, the madam couldn't object. The atmosphere was so tense that it felt like someone could die any moment.

'He looks wealthy, though.'

Most notably, the black cloak and leather armor the man wore looked exceptionally high-quality. Though his hood obscured his face, he must have been a noble young man or a well-to-do knight, without a doubt. 

Even if not 100 gold, he seemed capable of paying at least 10 gold.

Then, he would be more than qualified to embrace the wilting flower.

"······Shall I bring you the menu?"

"No need."

Already understanding the atmosphere of the place, the young man skillfully stopped the madam, then turned his attention to the woman sitting quietly before him.

The madam, observing this, was briefly puzzled. There was no sign of desire in the man's smile; it was simply a sad one.

"······I've always missed these even after leaving this place."

With his sudden appearance, incomprehensible words began to flow from the man, capturing everyone's attention. 

"Grilled sausages, black pudding, hash browns, and white bread…."

Everyone was perplexed as they saw a man ordering breakfast in a place where one had to order alcohol.

'Is he insane?'

Even Madame, the owner of this place, was tilting her head as if she didn't know what to do.

But Marcella understood clearly, perhaps more than anyone else.

The words the man uttered were things she longed for.

They were the foods that always appeared in the scenery she dreamed of.

"······Please prepare what Jorge always ate. Marcella."

It was the menu she always prepared for Jorge.

Marcella didn't want to open her eyes.

It was like the voice of the familiar boy echoing like a dream.

If she opened her eyes and found that what she had hoped for wasn't there, she felt she wouldn't be able to accept it.

"······Aah."

Marcella slowly opened her eyes, tears streaming down.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

Amidst the shimmering gazes, she saw the radiant blond hair.

"I told you I'd come back. Marcella."

As the man removed his hood, a radiant golden light emanated from him.

It wasn't the dirty gold that people in this place spat out with desire.

It was the color that the boy from that day, whom Jorge had picked up and Marcella had washed, possessed.