Chapter 12: The Bargain

The fox's tone was absolute, leaving not the slightest room for negotiation. The young beggar's expression remained unchanged throughout—if he dared speak with such finality, it could only mean he had already steeled himself for the noose.

Releasing his foot, the boy stepped back. The door was about to shut, and with it, he had memorized the path to the mayor's residence.

The fox's bluff met with unwavering resolve. The calm drained from his face; he sprang up from the sofa and dashed toward the door in a frenzy.

"Have you made up your mind?"

Suddenly, the boy's foot hooked the door again. His indifferent expression suggested he had long foreseen the end of this tug-of-war.

The fox halted abruptly. At last, he understood—this boy was deadly serious. He was the kind who, to save his own life, would sacrifice anyone else without hesitation. Even if he had grown somewhat attached to the baby girl, he would hand her over to the mayor's estate for Sura without a second thought.

"I give up! I've lost! Completely lost!"

The fox raised his hands in surrender, panting heavily. All traces of arrogance had vanished from his face.

"Two hundred Sura."

The boy repeated the price. Unlike before, he did not pull the infant from his arms, but held her closer, shielding her with his own warmth.

"That... I'm afraid that really won't do," the fox said helplessly. "Kid, two hundred Sura is no small sum. Like I said, I don't do losing trades. I absolutely won't buy that little girl. But—hey, don't go! Wait, let me finish!"

"Listen… Since you had the guts to steal a baby and try to sell her, it means you've got some skill. How about working for me? I've got just the job for someone like you. The pay? Fifteen Sura."

The fox glanced at the bundled infant in the boy's arms, then sneered and added—

"Enough to pay for her medicine."

For the first time, a tremor ran through the boy's body. He looked down. The baby girl was fast asleep, her cheeks flushed with fever, her breathing rapid and shallow.

"What kind of work?"

His reply came instantly—quicker than ever before. Beneath the blanket, his arms wrapped tighter around the child.

The wily fox noticed the subtle gesture and sighed inwardly. His gamble had paid off.

"You see, kid…"

He sank back into the sofa and lit a cigarette.

"Most of our earnings at 'The Pink Lady' come from flesh trade. Recently, we got a request—some old fool under his wife's thumb wants a little fun, something fresh. Problem is, he's got... peculiar tastes. Prefers very young girls. The younger, the better. Ah, don't worry, your dying baby isn't what he's after."

The boy stood silent, waiting for the rant to end.

"Thing is, where am I supposed to find that many young girls? Most of our girls are over twenty. Best on the street, sure—but not young enough to please that old bastard. And just when I'm about to land a fat commission, it slips away—such a waste, don't you think?"

"You want me... to bring you a girl?"

The fox smiled. "Sharp. Normally I'd send my men. But after what happened yesterday, the streets are crawling with investigators. If any of my scoundrels show their faces, they'll get nabbed—or worse, bring heat down on me too."

"But… here's the thing. Since a baby went missing yesterday, another missing ten-year-old won't raise suspicion. Might even get pinned on the same culprits. We stay clean. That's why I need you."

"You're just a kid—no one will suspect you. With your calm demeanor and 'charming' looks, it won't be hard to lure a girl who fancies you, eh? After the old goat is done with her, I'll dispose of the girl. No loose ends. How's that sound?"

The boy thought for a moment—then gave a slow nod.

"Excellent!" The fox clapped, then vanished into the back room. He returned minutes later with a bundle of ragged children's clothes, which he tossed at the boy's feet.

"Consider this your advance. You can't go walking around with a blanket—it draws too much attention. Remember: pick a clean, pretty girl. The old man is picky and… eccentric. He even sent some clothes he wants the girl to wear. You'll see them later. Oh, and it won't be easy to move with that baby. Why not leave her here?"

The boy didn't respond. Eyeing the fox warily, he bent down, picked up the clothes, and left without a word. A loud bang followed as the door slammed shut. By the time the fox reached it, the boy had vanished.

…

The blanket had frozen stiff, its thinning fibers like needles against the skin. In a dark alley, the boy shed the blanket and shirtless, sifted through the clothes.

Chains still coiled around his right arm. Whether from the cold or something else, the gash from the day before had already closed. Beneath the black metal links, his arm was a tapestry of crimson scars—an eerie contrast to his frail frame.

Though shielded from the wind, the boy's bare skin in the alley made the scene seem almost mad. He felt the cold, but it no longer pierced to the bone. It chilled, yes, but not enough to numb him.

Red eyes shifted beneath the chains, watching as the boy chose the warmest two jackets—not for himself, but to swaddle the baby. Compared to his own thin rags, they offered her much-needed warmth.

Only after securing the baby did he dress himself in the remaining torn garments, then draped the blanket over his shoulders like a cloak. The cold bit through the holes, and he shivered.

"What are you thinking, boy?"

The voice echoed in his mind. Blood-hued eyes stared from within the chain, unblinking.

"You hide your feelings well. I respect that. But when that bastard mentioned medicine, I sensed a ripple. Don't tell me… you truly intend to use the money to save this girl?"

The boy gave no answer. Silently, he reached out to the baby resting atop a trash bin…

"Enough! Answer me!"

A crimson glow flared. A dagger burst from the chains, stabbing toward his nose. The chains writhed, their serrated edges sawing into his arm.

Blood poured into the eye. Pain twisted his expression. He gritted his teeth and drew back his hand.

"She... she has value…"

"Then tell me, what value?"

The chains spun faster. Flesh and blood sprayed into the snow, freezing upon contact.

"I… with her… people lower their guard… no one… suspects a kid… carrying a baby…"

The chains stopped.

The boy's knees buckled. Blood stained the snow beneath him, drop by drop.

The eye watched in silence. It did not speak, and the boy did not wait. With a long breath, he stood, arms bloodied, and once more reached for the baby.

"…Interesting."

The crimson eye faded, retreating into the chain.

"You've caught my attention, boy. Let's see how far you're willing to go for this child who means nothing to you. Even if it increases your chances of dying… how long can you protect her? I'm watching."

The wounds healed quickly. Only red scars remained. The boy cradled the infant, rested briefly beside the bin, then, his strength slightly restored, trudged from the alley into the city once more.