By Zephyria =======
Though he brushed it off with words, dark clouds gathered in Silver’s heart. Wolf’s words crept back into his memory. ‘The skeleton wraiths seem to like rules. And they’re unkind. They made us form groups without even telling us what kind of punishment there would be.’
What if they give a reward later… but disguise it so cleverly that one can’t recognize it as a reward… and without explaining the rules…
Wolf seemed to be gripped by the same anxiety. Just as the two boys locked eyes and swallowed in unison, a voice called out to Silver and Wolf from a distance.
“Where are you? Uncle is looking for you; he says we’re leaving now!”
It was Red Eagle. With a sigh, Wolf started to stand up listlessly, then paused to look at Silver.
“Silver. Uncle is strong, right?”
“He is. But you’re strong too.”
“I don’t have the confidence to protect myself from Uncle.”
Silver was lost for words. Wolf dropped his gaze and turned away.
“I’ll be dead before I even have a chance to run.”
“If that’s the case…”
Silver stopped. He wanted to respond playfully, but the voice that squeezed through his lips trembled weakly.
“Don’t be scared. Be-behind you, I… I’ll be there. I’ll pro-protect…”
His voice trailed off. Wolf walked away without looking back. The boy’s shoulders seemed to flinch for a moment, but Silver quickly dove into silence.
Wolf’s receding shadow melted into the ashen daylight. An instantaneous void. Only the cedar fence, the water mist, and silence remained. It felt as if no one had ever been there to begin with.
* * *
The snow had stopped long ago, but the air remained damp. The ashen river flowed sluggishly, embracing the silver-gray mist. The giant mountains surrounding the vast river were hidden behind a hazy veil, revealing only their crude outlines.
Silver rowed the boat, chewing on jerky. His shoulders were starting to ache. He had been rowing without rest until the sun passed its zenith.
The ferry boat, cutting through the fog, was filled with a silence as dense as dust. Wolf, sitting opposite him, looked like a prisoner kneeling before an executioner. With his head bowed low, he occasionally glanced up to peek at Black Weasel. Black Weasel remained in pitch-black silence, doing nothing but rowing.
Silver swallowed the jerky. Roughly four hourglass turns had passed, yet that fidgety Ice Armor Warrior had kept his mouth shut the entire time. Whenever his eyes met Wolf’s, he would twitch his eyebrows menacingly and snort loudly. He wasn’t even hiding his intention to harm Wolf.
To be so blatant about it… Fuck, what should I do?
“Hey.”
Deciding he had to try something, Silver spoke up. Black Weasel glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
“What.”
“…You know. Last night, the Attendant and I performed an exorcism ritual.”
“Huh?”
Black Weasel’s brow furrowed.
“An exorcism ritual? Why?”
“What do you mean why? To drive out the wraith clinging to Wolf.”
“…”
“That Attendant guy, he’s a comrade who fought alongside those skeleton bastards. I felt a bit sorry for him, so I told him. That you’re possessed by a wraith. I told him we should do an exorcism ritual, otherwise you’ll eventually forget your own name.”
Black Weasel clamped his mouth shut, his shoulders trembling. He was barely suppressing a burst of laughter. Dammit, is he mocking me?
Silver suppressed his anger and continued.
“So there’s no need to grit your teeth at the Attendant. The wraith will leave him soon enough.”
“Hmph, soon enough? I guess last night’s ritual was a failure, then?”
“I’m not a professional priest. But I’m going to try again tonight. If I offer a sturdy four-legged beast as a sacrifice, the Goddess will drive the wraith away.”
“Goddammit.”
Black Weasel spat into the river.
“Doing useless things… Go ahead and try your heart out. You think that’ll make it leave?”
Silver flared up at the blatant mockery. What is this guy saying? It sounds like he’s actually hoping the exorcism fails.
At this point, it felt as if Black Weasel had a different ulterior motive. He probably wanted to present a rare spectacle to that murderous Grandma. Thinking of Director Erem made Silver feel even worse.
The reason why he, despite becoming an ‘adult’ upon turning seventeen this year, couldn’t be independent and remained tied to his biological father. The reason why he, who hated studying, voluntarily learned the Atania language. It was all because of the murderer Erem, who wore the mask of a benevolent orphanage director.
Starting four years ago, Black Weasel visited the Erem Orphanage every few months. Though he didn’t say it, he poured money into it. Since he always entered the director’s office carrying a chest full of gold coins and left empty-handed, Silver couldn’t have missed it.
His acts of kindness, coming from a man interested only in alcohol and women, were as bizarre as a sweltering winter day. If Director Erem hadn’t been Atanian, Silver would have mistaken Black Weasel’s donations as help for his own biological mother.
The memory crawled back under the shade of an awning. One summer day, Silver had been sitting with his back against the main building of the orphanage, staring straight ahead. Children were playing in the yard. From inside the window with the long awning, the voices of Black Weasel and Director Erem drifted out. It was in the Atania language, so he couldn’t understand.
Silver yawned, enduring the boredom. This was already the fourth visit, the fourth donation. He didn’t know what the scheme was, but he was really getting cleaned out.
At this rate, he wouldn’t even have enough settlement funds for retirement. Silver let out a short laugh and kicked the dirt. He found it absurd that he was worrying about Black Weasel’s old age of all people.
I should just worry about my own future.
‘Do you know what it means to become an adult, Silver?’
Black Weasel had said that once. He was flushed with drink at the time.
‘It means becoming free from everything. If there’s something you want, you take it. You don’t have to take responsibility for whatever you break. That is freedom, and that is being an adult.’
The words that came out of Black Weasel’s mouth usually stank like rotten herring, but for that one statement, Silver agreed. In the world reflected in the boy’s eyes, only those kinds of people were recognized as ‘adults.’ In that sense, Black Weasel’s remark was an exercise of privilege granted only to survivors.
In three years, I’ll be an adult too.
First, he would leave Black Weasel behind. Independence! Attaining freedom. After that, he would find the bastard who contracted the killing of his mother and her lover and tear him to pieces. Responsibility? He wouldn’t take any. Why should he? He was simply taking revenge.
— Yaaaawn…
Another yawn escaped. Just then, a wagon led by a Black Snow Ox entered the main gate of the orphanage. The worn wheels of the wagon, loaded with hay, rattled as they scraped the dirt. The wagon, cutting through the playing children, drifted close to Silver, leaving a thick scent of iron in the air before disappearing behind the main building.
Silver waved his hand in front of his nose. He was puzzled. A pile of hay should smell like grass, the sweet scent of fermentation, or the musty leather smell of dried grains.
Bored, he stood up. The wagon had stopped in front of an old shed behind the dim main building. Silver peeked around the corner. The driver jumped down from the wagon and cleared away the hay. Several overlapping sacks were revealed.
The sight planted a strange imagination in Silver’s mind. ‘If there were people in sacks, they would look exactly like that…’
No, those were definitely people. But this is an orphanage?!
What is this? Why are there body bags in a peaceful orphanage? And not just one or two?
The driver flung open the shed door. Holding his breath, Silver watched as the driver carried the sacks into the shed one by one. The sacks were lumpy, and though it might have been his imagination, three or four of them seemed to squirm.
Cold sweat trickled down Silver’s spine. The inside of the shed, revealed through the doorway, was as pitch-black as a rainy season night sky…
“Whoaaa!”
Silver was snapped back to reality by a sudden shout. Red Eagle and Wolf were craning their necks to the left. Looking to see what it was, he saw a pine marten swimming leisurely through the river with a large fish in its mouth.
“What is it, you brats? Is this your first time seeing a pine marten?”
“Yeah, first time! I’ve never even heard the name! It looks like a land animal, how can it be in the river…!”
Wolf pointed at the pine marten, excited like a small child.
“Is that a fish found only in Stohl? If it’s Stohl, it’s entirely possible there are freshwater fish that look like land animals…!”
60 – Hell Execution Order (地獄實行命令)