Chapter 14 – Cruelty and Gentleness

"Miss! Where are you? Come back quickly!""Miss—!"

From afar, the guards' voices echoed again and again—anxious, insistent. The little girl was equally flustered, yelling back at them to hurry up. Inwardly, she cursed their incompetence—how could they be so useless, failing to keep up after all this time? After calling out several times without result, she gave up on those loud and ineffective men, choosing instead to pursue the shadowy figure alone.

The guards' voices faded, swallowed by encroaching darkness and silence. Gloom stretched its shadowy hands toward the little girl. Yet within the winding corridors of this labyrinthine place, she felt no fear or solitude. On the contrary, she was exhilarated, eyes gleaming as they fixed upon the limping figure ahead. Though the person would occasionally vanish around corners, it wouldn't be long before he reappeared, dragging his injured leg back into her view.

"Haha! My tracking skills are unmatched~! Villain, let's see where you run next!"

Eventually, all was still. Quiet and darkness consumed the world. Bathed in the faint light of falling snow, the girl caught sight of the figure ducking into a cul-de-sac, walled off on three sides. He lingered there. Delighted, she gave a joyful shout and dashed forward, flag in hand. The figure flinched at her approach, then abruptly flung himself against one of the walls—

—and vanished.

Gone. He disappeared into the wall itself.

The girl's steps came to a sudden halt. The thrill on her face slowly drained away, her triumphant smile frozen in place. What had she just witnessed? A person… slipping into a wall… and then—gone?

A cold wind whispered through the alley, making her shiver. It was only then she realized her predicament.

Darkness. Silence. Not a single sound…

Towering structures loomed on either side like monstrous beasts watching her from the shadows. The eerie stillness sent a chill down her spine.

"No… I'm not scared! I—I'm not afraid at all!"

She yelled into the night, trying to bolster her courage. Glancing behind, then ahead at the dead end, the unfamiliar shadows pressed in on her. A powerful urge to flee welled up from within.

"...Is anyone there? Hello?! Anyone?!"

Her voice echoed beneath the snow-heavy sky, met only by the quiet descent of white crystals. A watery mist blurred her eyes, and a sob broke from her lips. She turned, ready to run.

"No… no, I can't! A messenger of justice… mustn't run away! Ghosts… there are no such things! I'm not afraid… I'm not…!"

She forced herself to stand firm, clutching her flag tightly with trembling hands. Gritting her teeth, she slowly approached the place where the figure had disappeared.

Indeed—it was a dead end.

There were no hidden paths, only three looming walls enclosing the space. Even the snow had trouble falling into this shadowed corner.

Swallowing hard, she cautiously reached out to the wall where the figure had vanished—and there, she found a door, slightly ajar.

"Phew~"

She exhaled in relief. Of course—he wasn't a ghost after all. Just a real person who'd slipped through the door. It had only looked like he vanished into the wall because it was so dark.

With the truth uncovered, her courage returned. Carefully, she pushed the door open and tiptoed inside.

The door closed gently behind her. Flag in hand, she groped through the darkness with wary steps. But no sooner had the door shut than a shadow—holding an infant—released the doorknob and silently approached her from behind…

…

A cold dagger, for the first time, slipped from the boy beggar's chains, guided by his instincts. He grasped the dimly gleaming blade and crept forward, gently pressing its sharp edge against the small of the girl's back.

"!"

The sudden touch of steel made the girl jolt. She instantly realized what was at her back, and panic seized her young body.

"Move."

The dagger remained against her back, robbing her of any sound. She walked until she reached an open door in the corridor—then the pressure vanished. Seizing the moment, she spun around. But before she could see anything clearly, a hand shoved her shoulder, forcing her into the room. The door slammed shut behind her, and the boy entered as well.

"Who are you?! I'm warning you, I'm not someone to mess with!"

The girl shrank into a corner, hoping to hide in the shadows. But the room soon lit up with the flickering glow of an oil lamp, and a boy about her age appeared, holding a bundled cloth in one arm and placing the lamp on a table with the other. What startled her most was that his right arm—holding the lamp—was wrapped entirely in pitch-black chains.

The room was sparsely furnished: a table, two chairs, and a bed with only a wooden board, no sheets—plain and bare. After setting the lamp down, the boy glanced at the bundle in his arms, then laid it on the table and walked calmly toward the girl.

At first, the girl had been afraid of her captor. But seeing he was merely a boy like herself, her fear quickly gave way to boldness. She raised her flag defiantly and shouted, "Let me go right now! Or I won't be polite! Do you have any idea what crime you're committing? It's illegal to confine others! You'll go to prison for this!"

The boy paid her no heed. Standing five paces away, he flicked his arm. From the chain emerged a black dagger, which landed in his grip.

The sight shocked the girl. Before she could react, he stepped forward, seized the flag with one hand, and slashed toward her right hand with the dagger. Startled, she instinctively released the flag and stumbled back—leaving her only weapon in his hands.

Chains wound around his arm. A black dagger in hand. Ragged clothes clinging to his frame. The girl trembled in fear, backing into a corner. The boy raised the blade and stepped forward, pointing the sharp tip at her trembling chest.

"Take off your clothes."

She froze under the dim light. But quickly, she clutched her collar and screamed in fury, "You—you brute! You should be executed! You filthy… no, tiny pervert!"

The boy stepped forward again. The dagger pierced her clothing slightly, the cold steel silencing her rage.

"Take them off."

His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Pain bloomed at her chest. The black chains wrapped around his arm, his merciless eyes—they seared themselves into her heart. Overwhelmed, she finally began to cry.

She didn't dare sob aloud. His unflinching gaze held her captive. Slowly, he withdrew the dagger—but kept it trained on her heart, waiting silently. She understood—he was deadly serious. If she wanted to live, she had to comply.

"Y-you're a monster… I'll never… never forgive you…"

Her voice trembled between sobs and stubborn defiance. Under threat of death, she began to remove her fur-lined coat. But even as it fell, the boy did not stop. Her eyes red with tears, she continued unbuttoning the clothes beneath.

One layer… then another…

As the garments grew fewer, her hands moved slower. Finally, she wore only a wool undershirt and a pair of small underpants. At this point, she halted, her arrogance replaced by pleading eyes.

"Take them off."

The same three words. The same unfeeling tone. The black dagger reflected her expression of despair. Tears streamed helplessly down her face as her pale lips quivered. Hands trembling, she reached for the last of her garments…

"I hate you… you monster… I'll always hate you…"

His cold eyes met her feeble defiance without a flicker. As she stripped off her final layer, she crouched, naked, trembling in the corner, clutching herself as she waited for whatever cruel fate awaited.

The boy hooked her discarded clothes with his foot and picked them up. Just as he was about to make his next move, a sudden wail came from the table.

He stopped.

His eyes flicked toward the table, and for the first time, a strange change flickered across his expressionless face. The girl, too, was startled. She lifted her head to look at the bundle, then at him, terrified and confused.

He glanced at her. She shrank back, clutching herself even tighter. Only then did he relax slightly and return to the table, lifting the baby girl into his arms.

Her swaddling cloth was wet again.

The infant's cries were piercing. Drawing from that morning's experience, the boy deftly unwrapped her clothing. It was clear that another accident had left her cold and uncomfortable.

He stripped off the soaked fabric. Conveniently, the girl's discarded clothes lay nearby. Without hesitation, he grabbed the warm garments, tore apart the cotton shirt, and fashioned it into a makeshift diaper, wrapping the baby securely.

Now… she wouldn't feel cold anymore.