Chapter 18: The Last Act of Kindness

The modest tent had been torn open by the blizzard.

The dry grass inside had been blown away, and the gathered pots, bowls, and utensils lay shattered or overturned.

The little beggar gazed at the remnants of what was once his home, feeling no trace of regret. This was only natural; once the wooden blocks that had held the tent down were lost, it was all too simple.

The wind, carrying ice fragments, whipped through the arch of the bridge. The beggar wrapped his blanket tighter, cradling the infant tightly in his arms. He bent down, sifting through the withered grass, and retrieved a half-frozen, rock-hard piece of bread. With that, he turned and left.

...

A "home" was little more than a place to sleep. This was not the beggar's first time abandoning such a place. The remaining pots and bowls could be retrieved tomorrow; for tonight, he sought only a shelter where he wouldn't freeze to death.

The filthy, wind-sheltered alley had always served as a perfect refuge. The beggar squeezed behind a restaurant, peering through the back door. Inside, the workers were washing dishes and preparing to close. The beggar seized the opportunity, sneaking inside with swift movements, swiping a cup, filling it with hot water, and quickly running out. He huddled in the alley, hiding in the windbreak between two garbage bins, wrapping the blanket around himself.

"Boy, your will to survive has truly moved me. I've decided, it's you. We'll spend the night here, and tomorrow, you'll follow my instructions. I will help you gain things you never dared to imagine."

The beggar huddled in the small corner, shielded from the wind. The narrow passageway was free from the snow, making it an exceptionally warm refuge. He cast a brief glance at the dark mark on his arm before removing the cloth pouch from his waist and taking out a tablet.

The infant slept peacefully. Well-protected, she should not feel the cold. The beggar dropped the tablet into the water, shaking it until it dissolved. He then used his finger to dip into the liquid and brought it to the infant's mouth.

The warm liquid made the baby open her mouth. The mixture of medicinal powder and warmth entered her body. The beggar sighed in relief, feeding her a little more while the water was still warm. When the water had cooled, he swallowed the liquid himself, which tasted almost like snow.

The cold in his stomach made him shudder. The dark presence, watching closely, seemed displeased.

"Boy, throw away this wretched girl. You have no obligation to care for her, and you certainly have no duty to waste nearly half of your wealth on her."

The beggar leaned against the wall, silent. His eyes fixed on the infant's peaceful sleeping face, a feeling of discontent stirring in his heart.

Indeed, he had no obligation to care for her, nor any responsibility. Life and death were his to control, that was the law of this world. Now, the infant had no further value to him. Why should he continue to worry over her?

"…"

"Listen to me, human boy. You have no idea the significance of being chosen by me. You don't understand that a grand dark road lies before you. Everyone will bow to you, and no one will dare oppose you. You will be the authority, able to take anything you desire!"

"You will have endless wealth, and countless women at your disposal. You can have it all right now. All you have to do is get rid of this burden and leave."

The frantic voice echoed in the beggar's mind, his frozen eyes beginning to shatter, a sense of confusion creeping in.

Darkness was right. The infant had been thrust upon him by someone else. In doing so, he had lost what could have filled his stomach—a piece of bread, a shelter from the storm, and twenty-three sulas. All of it, spent in a single day.

Life and death were his own to choose. That was the principle he lived by. Everyone had a duty to protect their own life; no one else was responsible. Every day, he hovered on the brink of starvation, death by beating, or freezing to death—how could he afford the time to care for this infant?

Why should he?

Why would he engage in such a thankless and utterly foolish task?

As the dark presence urged him on, the beggar's confusion began to freeze again. His eyes, like ice, stared at the lifeless bundle in his arms. Slowly, his grip loosened. The infant's swaddling slipped from his arms, the warmth of his hands fading along with the last traces of comfort she had...

...

In the snow, a fragile, white breath hovered, weak and fleeting.

The swaddling had completely slipped from the beggar's grasp, exposed to the biting cold. The tiny body shrank against the freezing wind, her face paling. The vapor of her breath formed white mist, which scattered in the wind.

She would die.

In such cold, if left for just an hour or two, she would freeze to death.

The beggar still held the swaddling in his hands, his mind racing with the dark presence's excited urging. At that moment, he froze. It was as though he had turned to stone, standing silently in the alley, lost in thought.

"Human boy, you... should let go."

A glint of light flickered in his frozen gaze. He continued to watch the infant's fragile face, her breath clouding the air, her small body trembling. Finally...

His hand slowly recoiled.

"Human—!"

"I... will take you with me."

The beggar pulled back the blanket, gathering the infant back into his arms, wrapping her warmly once more.

"I will find a family willing to adopt her. Even if luck is against her, she will become a servant... She will survive."

The dark presence's eyes widened, and the chains that bound the beggar's arm seemed to stir again. But the beggar's gaze remained steady, unchanged. The blood-red eyes slowly calmed, and the chains ceased to tremble.

"Hmph, the final act of kindness, huh? Just like Larnod, the leader of the Eighty Thousand Demons in the Sacred Covenant."

"...I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You've likely never even heard of the church's scriptures. Let me tell you, Larnod, before becoming the Demon King, made a vow. To become the most complete demon, he wished to gather all the goodness left in his heart, and perform one final act of kindness. To do so, he sacrificed one of his eyes to slay a dragon that had destroyed ninety-nine cities. After that, his kindness was spent, leaving none, and he easily ascended as the Demon King."

"...So, the more wicked a person is, the more outwardly kind they appear, and the more praise they receive?"

"Heh, boy, interesting. You're truly the one I've chosen. Your understanding of this story pleases me. Although in the church's version, it's explained as the powerful temptation of the demons, capable of making the most upright person abandon all kindness. Even if it means maiming themselves, they would fall into damnation without regret... but never mind, explaining this is pointless."

The infant, now warmed, began to stir in her sleep, stretching out comfortably under the blanket, her tiny mouth softly sucking, appearing completely at ease.

The beggar took a few bites of bread, hiding the last piece of it within his cloak, and closed his eyes. In the gap between the two garbage bins, the beggar and the infant drifted into a deep sleep.

The red eyes flickered as they surveyed the beggar, then the sleeping child in his arms. Finally, the dark presence let out a cold laugh.

"Interesting. The final act of kindness, huh?... Well, it's rare to find such a good host. Rather than having him use his remaining kindness for some unforeseeable future task, I may as well let him use it for this little girl. Boy, go ahead and fulfill your wish. Once your kindness ends with this girl's departure, your cruelty and ruthlessness will fully belong to me. Then... Heh, a very interesting world will begin!"

...

The next day, the blizzard raged on.

The endless snowflakes trembled as they fell from the sky, layering the white shroud over the city of Sernag, the city of coffins. How many had perished in these two days of storm? And how many more would cling to life with their tortured souls, welcoming yet another cruel dawn?

The snow watched on.

Watching the stillness of the world. Then, as if indifferent, it danced joyfully in the air, covering the body of a frozen corpse.

A frozen body sat quietly in the alley. Its expression was peaceful, as if it had forever escaped pain and suffering. In that world, it would never again worry about food or warmth. It was a beautiful world, a world free of death and suffering.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Footsteps passed by the frozen body. The owner of the footsteps didn't spare a second glance at the ice-cold figure. The still face of the corpse held no allure for the small figure.

Death, after all, was never an amusing thing.

He was alive, and perhaps his life held no great meaning. But he refused to die.

To live, simply for the sake of living. That was the survival instinct of a gutter rat, always so simple.

Not wanting to die, living.

This simple truth had seen him through yet another cold night.

The beggar walked slowly through the alley. In the corners, he occasionally spotted a few more corpses. In such bitter winter, the guards wouldn't bother with cleanup. Only in spring, when the bodies began to rot, would they come to clear the refuse.