In the carriage leaving the convent.
There was a red-haired girl sitting quietly in a shaky carriage with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
Seeing him holding less than a bundle of luggage against his chest was something that would elicit sympathy from anyone who saw it.
"Did you have difficulties there?"
"...More or less."
"Were you not fed well? Why are you so thin?"
"...I just told you."
Zemina continued to avoid Vlad's gaze while briefly answering the questions that arose along their way.
"Why are you doing that?"
"Why..."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"..."
Zemina couldn't easily make eye contact despite Vlad's questions.
It was a scene the girl had dreamed of for so long, but when she actually found herself in the situation, there was only an uncomfortable atmosphere.
"Are you uncomfortable because we haven't seen each other in just half a year?"
Vlad was somewhat annoyed by Zemina's subtle reaction, but he couldn't help it.
'...She has changed a lot.'
Even the parents who gave birth to them were unaware of the subtle emotions of a teenager.
The subtle difference in emotions was partly Vlad's fault, as he arbitrarily deviated from what the girl knew.
'He looks like a true noble.'
Zemina thought as she looked at Vlad, who gazed back at her with a bitter look in his eyes.
His blond hair, once popular among streetwalkers, now even lost its shine, making him look extravagant. The clothes he wore, his armor, and everything else displayed the appearance of a proud knight.
"......"
In contrast, her pitiful figure sitting in front of someone so bright.
Zemina quickly grabbed the end of her frayed sleeve, fearing Vlad's gaze might catch her.
Even if she did that, her pitiful appearance wouldn't be completely hidden.
When they were together in the alley, they had nothing but a ragged blanket, but the sight of the boy now seemed distant, making Zemina feel sad.
"I felt like they wouldn't even allow me to be with the boy anymore, so I just lowered my head into the bag I was holding."
"Hey!"
"Yes?"
At Vlad's sudden call, Zemina raised her head.
She opened her eyes in surprise as she felt something suddenly flying into her open mouth.
"Eat this and come to your senses. You've been downcast since before."
"······."
Zemina silently lowered her tongue as she felt the sweet taste spreading in her mouth.
"What is this?"
"Candy. I got it from a knight I know."
"How did you get this expensive thing? You didn't steal it, did you?"
"······Think what you want."
With those words, Vlad looks out the carriage window as if he no longer felt like talking.
Seeing Vlad's indifferent profile, Zemina recalled the image of the boy from before.
He had been the same back then.
Even during the days when he struggled to survive, Vlad somehow managed to get a piece of bread for the girl.
And then acted indifferent as if nothing had happened.
Just like now.
"Sob······."
The salty taste of falling tears, and the sweet taste of the candy she tasted for the first time.
Feeling the taste of reunion spreading to the tip of her tongue, the girl let go of the tears she had been holding back.
"Why are you crying again? Seriously."
"You came too late!"
Finally seeing the girl releasing the tears she had been holding back, Vlad only frowned as if he found it annoying.
In the changed Vlad, Zemina found the image of the boy she knew, and only then could she release her tears with relief.
There were things that wouldn't change even with the passage of time and changes in circumstances.
Zemina was very happy about that.
***
In a corner of an alleyway.
Facing the slowly flowing river, Harven and Vlad sat with a bottle of liquor beside them, sharing a conversation.
"How is it possible that among all those boats, there isn't one for me?"
"······."
The boats were gathering at the dock to avoid the sunset.
From small fishing boats to large ships responsible for the logistic distribution of Soara.
Looking at the boats docked in order according to their size and position, Harven sighed not out of admiration, but out of despair.
"You know it too, right? That my original dream was to be a guard."
"I do."
Harven was a straightforward man who used to speak his mind, but when he had alcohol in his mouth or saw boats, he showed a different side from the usual.
And the blond boy was the one who had seen that facet the most.
"Now, obviously I've deviated from the path of being a guard. With these legs, how can I climb a mast?"
"······."
Upon hearing Harven's words, Vlad picked up a stone and threw it into the river.
Because he knew that one of the reasons why Harven's dream had been frustrated was himself.
"So lately, I've been learning to read maps and recognize constellations. When you think about it, being a guard is too tough."
"It seems like you haven't changed much..."
Vlad turned his head in an indifferent gesture and started laughing while looking at Harven.
From the voice, to Jager, Joseph, and Jorge.
There were many people who taught the boy knowledge, skills, and life directions, but perhaps the brown-haired man sitting beside him at this moment was the first of them all.
Harven's attitude, always seeking a way out in life, no matter how much the environment changed, had clearly had a great influence on the boy.
"So Marcella and Zemina are still there, in the inn in the city center?"
"We can't let anyone else besides us bother them."
"Yes."
Bordan, who was organizing Jack One-Armed's property, handed Vlad a receipt related to the smile of a rose.
It was the boy's legitimate right to revenge, but it was also Joseph's wish.
And that receipt was now in Marcella's possession.
The boy did not forget the favor of that day.
"Marcella is still managing the inn on the corner."
"I'm not sure."
"Sometimes, she enjoyed drinking under your name."
Listening to the memories of the past coming out of Harven's mouth, Vlad took a sip from the bottle of whiskey in his hand.
The cheap whiskey that passed his throat so easily made Harven feel an innate desire to drink.
"······Is it good? Do you want to swap it for mine?"
"······Are you kidding?"
There was no reason to swap expensive whiskey for cheap rum, but Vlad passed the bottle to Harven anyway.
Because he also owed something to Harven.
"Damn! You can tell when it's good whiskey just by the smell!"
"······The same goes for bad whiskey."
Vlad wrinkled his nose at the stench emanating from the cheap rum and slightly tightened the bottle cap.
"······."
Harven, with his long sleeve covering his forearm even as summer approached, watched the scars on his arm as Vlad raised the bottle.
The new scars that had formed on Harven's arm were the price he paid for secretly taking out a ship for Soara when he was trying to escape.
"...Somehow I didn't die."
"I only half died."
Harven's smile, illuminated by the twilight, seemed sad to Vlad for some reason.
In an alley where the only thing they had to offer was their lives, Harven did his best for Vlad.
Haven, a member of a gang, hijacks the boat of a boss and floats it on the river.
If Jack One-Armed's men who saw that scene hadn't rushed to the dock, it might have been a member of another organization, not Otar, who blocked the boy.
"They say it's surprising that a cripple can bring out a boat on his own. The boss liked that. That's why I'm half-dead."
"He likes everything."
"That's why I lived. Thanks to you, I can drink such good drinks."
Vlad silently shouted as he watched Harven gulp down the whiskey as if it were good medicine.
"What do you plan to do next? Are you going back to Sturma?"
"For now, I'll stay here. It's like a state of waiting."
"It seems like a great view. A man obeying the orders of a noble. You've thrived."
The boy ignored Harven's words, dismissing them as the words of a drunk person, saying that Zemina would be sad if he left so soon, and that he should take her with him when he goes up.
"In the meantime, I'll be looking for people around here."
"Who?"
Watching the sun gradually set to the west of the river, Vlad took another sip from the bottle.
For someone, it might be a signal of the end of the day, but for the alley people, it was a signal of the beginning of the day.
"I have to search for Jack's hidden properties and what was left unrecovered. The money worms are digging everywhere."
"If that's what you're looking for, it might be useful."
"Heh. This whiskey isn't free."
Looking at Vlad's sinister smile directed at him, Harven toyed with his cane.
For some reason, the cane that the young man had given him today looked reliable.
"And Marcella seems to want to look for other prostitutes."
"They've probably already sold all of them."
"They'll be somewhere around here."
"Hmm."
Joseph wanted to find even Jack's hidden dust in the alley.
And Madame Marcella also wanted to find the prostitutes who had disappeared because of her.
Money and prostitutes.
Following in the footsteps of the prostitutes sold by usurers, they would surely earn shiny gold coins made with their tears.
Among missions and requests, Vlad, Bayezid's squire and knight of the last remaining courtesans, knew exactly what he had to do.
"I guess both have something in common."
"Still, I think it'll be a headache. I did a quick search, but some of them showed no trace."
"Who?"
"It's Anna. Besides her, there are a few more people."
Vlad remembered the prostitute who had been beaten by a man calling himself a mercenary.
As she started with many debts, he thought they would have sold her to a harder place, but he had no idea she would disappear without a trace like this.
"I see. It's a bit unusual for there to be no trace."
Harven frowned when he felt that Vlad's words were not empty words.
When Jack One-Armed roamed the alleys, he saw many things that shouldn't have happened.
"Call me if you need help. The organization has shrunk these days, so I may not be of much help."
"Alright."
Harven strengthened his cane, managed to keep his balance, and stood up.
Although he felt quite uncomfortable, seeing Harven fulfilling his duty somehow gave young Vlad a lot to think about.
"I'll be going."
"Okay."
Vlad waved a hand and watched Harven as he went back to his work.
The crimson twilight cast long shadows over Harven.
His shadow, which is even more amazing than before, probably isn't simply because he's drunk.
"I have to pay you back the money."
Joseph had said.
When you owe a favor or a grudge, you should at least repay it twofold.
A single bottle of whiskey won't be enough to thank Harven for his kindness.
"I guess I should come by here sometime."
Vlad turned around and started walking in the opposite direction of where Harven had gone.
The boy heading towards the alley well remembered Joseph's words.
Life is a series of payments.
And the boy knew that it was his turn to pay.
The boy's hair fluttered in the dim lights of the back alley.
The color was livelier than anything else.
***
In front of a ramshackle and mud-filled blacksmith's shop, an elderly blacksmith, as unkempt as his humble store, sat dejectedly in front of his forge.
The only occasional customers were mercenaries seeking rumors and unattractive street thugs.
"..."
The elderly man, whose life didn't have much time left, felt disheartened watching his life fade away like this.
No matter where you're born in this world, everyone deserves to have at least one star in their heart. However, getting the star you held to appear in the night sky was another problem.
"Should I close today?"
The increasingly demotivated elderly man rose with a groan reminiscent of his age.
He had been arranging furniture for a while when he stopped upon seeing a nail driven into the highest point of the blacksmith shop.
A sword was hung there.
And the old blacksmith remembered the boy who had gazed at the sword.
Where and what would that sword containing his unrealized dreams be doing?
Would the boy be alright?
"He must be."
Aware of the world's cruelty, the old man had already accepted that his star might not shine so brightly.
He just hoped it would be in a night sky better than this lamentable place.
"Are you closing already?"
"Yes. Come back later."
"I can't, I'll be busy."
The old man chuckled softly at the voice behind him.
Busy.
"Do you think you need my keen skill to push someone with a butcher's knife?"
"This sword needs repair. It's been a long time since the last one."
"...What?"
The old man reacted to the words he had just heard.
Clearly, he had heard the word "sword."
"Other blacksmiths can't fix this. Only you can."
"..."
The old blacksmith dropped his tools and slowly turned back around.
"Oh..."
Just by standing still, bright blond hair appeared in his numbed eyes.
That was the color he had brought into the world with the girl that day.
"Is it not?"
"No, no, it's okay. Will you do it or not?"
Seeing such a beloved customer after so long, the old blacksmith lit his forge.
The fire revitalized the old man's passion, which seemed like it would extinguish at any moment.
"Have a seat here."
The old blacksmith offered the boy a seat and took the sword carefully.
Fshh-
"That's it."
The old blacksmith smiled as he looked at the sword with marks here and there.
He always felt proud of the things he had made as a blacksmith. Especially if he had created them himself.
"Where did these scars come from?"
"These are from when I fought a goblin. I wasn't familiar with the sword back then, so..."
"And these?"
"These are... when I caught the death worm. I was used as bait and... scraped the ground to get it out."
Vlad continued explaining the scars on the sword as the old man smiled.
He didn't need to justify anything.
"Goblin... death worm..."
The old man wasn't scolding the boy; he was moved by what the sword he had created had achieved. It was faithfully fulfilling its duty.
Different from him, who was rotting away here.
The blacksmith of that day remembered the boy endlessly staring at the sword he had made.
However, the blacksmith of today smiled as he looked at the scars on the sword that had been created by the boy.
"Wait. I'll fix it for you."
The old man quickly closed the shop and devoted himself exclusively to work for the boy.
The sound of the old man's hammer hitting resonated in the alley as it mingled with the boy's voice.
"Then he struck the shield there and said my name."
"And then?"
The old man dreamed of those sounds.
The boy's eyes looked at him, and he saw himself standing in view of what the sword had done.
The old blacksmith, excitedly looking at the visible landscape between the sparks flying, smiled.
In the carriage leaving the convent.
There was a red-haired girl sitting quietly in a shaky carriage with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
Seeing him holding less than a bundle of luggage against his chest was something that would elicit sympathy from anyone who saw it.
"Did you have difficulties there?"
"...More or less."
"Were you not fed well? Why are you so thin?"
"...I just told you."
Zemina continued to avoid Vlad's gaze while briefly answering the questions that arose along their way.
"Why are you doing that?"
"Why..."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"..."
Zemina couldn't easily make eye contact despite Vlad's questions.
It was a scene the girl had dreamed of for so long, but when she actually found herself in the situation, there was only an uncomfortable atmosphere.
"Are you uncomfortable because we haven't seen each other in just half a year?"
Vlad was somewhat annoyed by Zemina's subtle reaction, but he couldn't help it.
'...She has changed a lot.'
Even the parents who gave birth to them were unaware of the subtle emotions of a teenager.
The subtle difference in emotions was partly Vlad's fault, as he arbitrarily deviated from what the girl knew.
'He looks like a true noble.'
Zemina thought as she looked at Vlad, who gazed back at her with a bitter look in his eyes.
His blond hair, once popular among streetwalkers, now even lost its shine, making him look extravagant. The clothes he wore, his armor, and everything else displayed the appearance of a proud knight.
"......"
In contrast, her pitiful figure sitting in front of someone so bright.
Zemina quickly grabbed the end of her frayed sleeve, fearing Vlad's gaze might catch her.
Even if she did that, her pitiful appearance wouldn't be completely hidden.
When they were together in the alley, they had nothing but a ragged blanket, but the sight of the boy now seemed distant, making Zemina feel sad.
"I felt like they wouldn't even allow me to be with the boy anymore, so I just lowered my head into the bag I was holding."
"Hey!"
"Yes?"
At Vlad's sudden call, Zemina raised her head.
She opened her eyes in surprise as she felt something suddenly flying into her open mouth.
"Eat this and come to your senses. You've been downcast since before."
"······."
Zemina silently lowered her tongue as she felt the sweet taste spreading in her mouth.
"What is this?"
"Candy. I got it from a knight I know."
"How did you get this expensive thing? You didn't steal it, did you?"
"······Think what you want."
With those words, Vlad looks out the carriage window as if he no longer felt like talking.
Seeing Vlad's indifferent profile, Zemina recalled the image of the boy from before.
He had been the same back then.
Even during the days when he struggled to survive, Vlad somehow managed to get a piece of bread for the girl.
And then acted indifferent as if nothing had happened.
Just like now.
"Sob······."
The salty taste of falling tears, and the sweet taste of the candy she tasted for the first time.
Feeling the taste of reunion spreading to the tip of her tongue, the girl let go of the tears she had been holding back.
"Why are you crying again? Seriously."
"You came too late!"
Finally seeing the girl releasing the tears she had been holding back, Vlad only frowned as if he found it annoying.
In the changed Vlad, Zemina found the image of the boy she knew, and only then could she release her tears with relief.
There were things that wouldn't change even with the passage of time and changes in circumstances.
Zemina was very happy about that.
***
In a corner of an alleyway.
Facing the slowly flowing river, Harven and Vlad sat with a bottle of liquor beside them, sharing a conversation.
"How is it possible that among all those boats, there isn't one for me?"
"······."
The boats were gathering at the dock to avoid the sunset.
From small fishing boats to large ships responsible for the logistic distribution of Soara.
Looking at the boats docked in order according to their size and position, Harven sighed not out of admiration, but out of despair.
"You know it too, right? That my original dream was to be a guard."
"I do."
Harven was a straightforward man who used to speak his mind, but when he had alcohol in his mouth or saw boats, he showed a different side from the usual.
And the blond boy was the one who had seen that facet the most.
"Now, obviously I've deviated from the path of being a guard. With these legs, how can I climb a mast?"
"······."
Upon hearing Harven's words, Vlad picked up a stone and threw it into the river.
Because he knew that one of the reasons why Harven's dream had been frustrated was himself.
"So lately, I've been learning to read maps and recognize constellations. When you think about it, being a guard is too tough."
"It seems like you haven't changed much..."
Vlad turned his head in an indifferent gesture and started laughing while looking at Harven.
From the voice, to Jager, Joseph, and Jorge.
There were many people who taught the boy knowledge, skills, and life directions, but perhaps the brown-haired man sitting beside him at this moment was the first of them all.
Harven's attitude, always seeking a way out in life, no matter how much the environment changed, had clearly had a great influence on the boy.
"So Marcella and Zemina are still there, in the inn in the city center?"
"We can't let anyone else besides us bother them."
"Yes."
Bordan, who was organizing Jack One-Armed's property, handed Vlad a receipt related to the smile of a rose.
It was the boy's legitimate right to revenge, but it was also Joseph's wish.
And that receipt was now in Marcella's possession.
The boy did not forget the favor of that day.
"Marcella is still managing the inn on the corner."
"I'm not sure."
"Sometimes, she enjoyed drinking under your name."
Listening to the memories of the past coming out of Harven's mouth, Vlad took a sip from the bottle of whiskey in his hand.
The cheap whiskey that passed his throat so easily made Harven feel an innate desire to drink.
"······Is it good? Do you want to swap it for mine?"
"······Are you kidding?"
There was no reason to swap expensive whiskey for cheap rum, but Vlad passed the bottle to Harven anyway.
Because he also owed something to Harven.
"Damn! You can tell when it's good whiskey just by the smell!"
"······The same goes for bad whiskey."
Vlad wrinkled his nose at the stench emanating from the cheap rum and slightly tightened the bottle cap.
"······."
Harven, with his long sleeve covering his forearm even as summer approached, watched the scars on his arm as Vlad raised the bottle.
The new scars that had formed on Harven's arm were the price he paid for secretly taking out a ship for Soara when he was trying to escape.
"...Somehow I didn't die."
"I only half died."
Harven's smile, illuminated by the twilight, seemed sad to Vlad for some reason.
In an alley where the only thing they had to offer was their lives, Harven did his best for Vlad.
Haven, a member of a gang, hijacks the boat of a boss and floats it on the river.
If Jack One-Armed's men who saw that scene hadn't rushed to the dock, it might have been a member of another organization, not Otar, who blocked the boy.
"They say it's surprising that a cripple can bring out a boat on his own. The boss liked that. That's why I'm half-dead."
"He likes everything."
"That's why I lived. Thanks to you, I can drink such good drinks."
Vlad silently shouted as he watched Harven gulp down the whiskey as if it were good medicine.
"What do you plan to do next? Are you going back to Sturma?"
"For now, I'll stay here. It's like a state of waiting."
"It seems like a great view. A man obeying the orders of a noble. You've thrived."
The boy ignored Harven's words, dismissing them as the words of a drunk person, saying that Zemina would be sad if he left so soon, and that he should take her with him when he goes up.
"In the meantime, I'll be looking for people around here."
"Who?"
Watching the sun gradually set to the west of the river, Vlad took another sip from the bottle.
For someone, it might be a signal of the end of the day, but for the alley people, it was a signal of the beginning of the day.
"I have to search for Jack's hidden properties and what was left unrecovered. The money worms are digging everywhere."
"If that's what you're looking for, it might be useful."
"Heh. This whiskey isn't free."
Looking at Vlad's sinister smile directed at him, Harven toyed with his cane.
For some reason, the cane that the young man had given him today looked reliable.
"And Marcella seems to want to look for other prostitutes."
"They've probably already sold all of them."
"They'll be somewhere around here."
"Hmm."
Joseph wanted to find even Jack's hidden dust in the alley.
And Madame Marcella also wanted to find the prostitutes who had disappeared because of her.
Money and prostitutes.
Following in the footsteps of the prostitutes sold by usurers, they would surely earn shiny gold coins made with their tears.
Among missions and requests, Vlad, Bayezid's squire and knight of the last remaining courtesans, knew exactly what he had to do.
"I guess both have something in common."
"Still, I think it'll be a headache. I did a quick search, but some of them showed no trace."
"Who?"
"It's Anna. Besides her, there are a few more people."
Vlad remembered the prostitute who had been beaten by a man calling himself a mercenary.
As she started with many debts, he thought they would have sold her to a harder place, but he had no idea she would disappear without a trace like this.
"I see. It's a bit unusual for there to be no trace."
Harven frowned when he felt that Vlad's words were not empty words.
When Jack One-Armed roamed the alleys, he saw many things that shouldn't have happened.
"Call me if you need help. The organization has shrunk these days, so I may not be of much help."
"Alright."
Harven strengthened his cane, managed to keep his balance, and stood up.
Although he felt quite uncomfortable, seeing Harven fulfilling his duty somehow gave young Vlad a lot to think about.
"I'll be going."
"Okay."
Vlad waved a hand and watched Harven as he went back to his work.
The crimson twilight cast long shadows over Harven.
His shadow, which is even more amazing than before, probably isn't simply because he's drunk.
"I have to pay you back the money."
Joseph had said.
When you owe a favor or a grudge, you should at least repay it twofold.
A single bottle of whiskey won't be enough to thank Harven for his kindness.
"I guess I should come by here sometime."
Vlad turned around and started walking in the opposite direction of where Harven had gone.
The boy heading towards the alley well remembered Joseph's words.
Life is a series of payments.
And the boy knew that it was his turn to pay.
The boy's hair fluttered in the dim lights of the back alley.
The color was livelier than anything else.
***
In front of a ramshackle and mud-filled blacksmith's shop, an elderly blacksmith, as unkempt as his humble store, sat dejectedly in front of his forge.
The only occasional customers were mercenaries seeking rumors and unattractive street thugs.
"..."
The elderly man, whose life didn't have much time left, felt disheartened watching his life fade away like this.
No matter where you're born in this world, everyone deserves to have at least one star in their heart. However, getting the star you held to appear in the night sky was another problem.
"Should I close today?"
The increasingly demotivated elderly man rose with a groan reminiscent of his age.
He had been arranging furniture for a while when he stopped upon seeing a nail driven into the highest point of the blacksmith shop.
A sword was hung there.
And the old blacksmith remembered the boy who had gazed at the sword.
Where and what would that sword containing his unrealized dreams be doing?
Would the boy be alright?
"He must be."
Aware of the world's cruelty, the old man had already accepted that his star might not shine so brightly.
He just hoped it would be in a night sky better than this lamentable place.
"Are you closing already?"
"Yes. Come back later."
"I can't, I'll be busy."
The old man chuckled softly at the voice behind him.
Busy.
"Do you think you need my keen skill to push someone with a butcher's knife?"
"This sword needs repair. It's been a long time since the last one."
"...What?"
The old man reacted to the words he had just heard.
Clearly, he had heard the word "sword."
"Other blacksmiths can't fix this. Only you can."
"..."
The old blacksmith dropped his tools and slowly turned back around.
"Oh..."
Just by standing still, bright blond hair appeared in his numbed eyes.
That was the color he had brought into the world with the girl that day.
"Is it not?"
"No, no, it's okay. Will you do it or not?"
Seeing such a beloved customer after so long, the old blacksmith lit his forge.
The fire revitalized the old man's passion, which seemed like it would extinguish at any moment.
"Have a seat here."
The old blacksmith offered the boy a seat and took the sword carefully.
Fshh-
"That's it."
The old blacksmith smiled as he looked at the sword with marks here and there.
He always felt proud of the things he had made as a blacksmith. Especially if he had created them himself.
"Where did these scars come from?"
"These are from when I fought a goblin. I wasn't familiar with the sword back then, so..."
"And these?"
"These are... when I caught the death worm. I was used as bait and... scraped the ground to get it out."
Vlad continued explaining the scars on the sword as the old man smiled.
He didn't need to justify anything.
"Goblin... death worm..."
The old man wasn't scolding the boy; he was moved by what the sword he had created had achieved. It was faithfully fulfilling its duty.
Different from him, who was rotting away here.
The blacksmith of that day remembered the boy endlessly staring at the sword he had made.
However, the blacksmith of today smiled as he looked at the scars on the sword that had been created by the boy.
"Wait. I'll fix it for you."
The old man quickly closed the shop and devoted himself exclusively to work for the boy.
The sound of the old man's hammer hitting resonated in the alley as it mingled with the boy's voice.
"Then he struck the shield there and said my name."
"And then?"
The old man dreamed of those sounds.
The boy's eyes looked at him, and he saw himself standing in view of what the sword had done.
The old blacksmith, excitedly looking at the visible landscape between the sparks flying, smiled.
