Chapter 45
“How do you know that?”
“Euten.”
The moment Elsez heard the name “Euten,” she realized the headmaster was lying.
Euten is a small island kingdom south of the Empire — a place you can reach by ship from the Kingdom of Ross — with active maritime trade and lively exchanges.
“In the past six months, Euten went through a succession struggle and the throne changed hands twice. The political situation’s been unstable, and pirates have started running rampant in the Karinth Sea.”
If anyone but Elsez had been told that — someone who was consumed with dealing with being a demon god — they might not have known. But she knew this story very well.
‘Because my father, Viscount Rohain, died because of that.’
A month ago. Viscount Rohain’s ship, which had been bringing goods from the southern continent beyond Euten, had tried to avoid the pirate-infested Karinth Sea by taking a detour through a strait — and in the end was swept into a storm and suffered an accident while crossing it.
“At this point, no merchant would go to Euten. It’s as good as going to die.”
The headmaster, ignorant of the wider situation, had named a distant country offhand simply to justify his ignorance of the boys’ recent whereabouts — a country far enough away that no one could easily verify whether the claim was true, a country he used to hide something related to the dead children.
He hadn’t realized his improvised lie would trip him up.
Tezette, who had been listening silently to Elsez, said with mild surprise, “You know the situation well.”
“My father was a merchant, after all.”
“Then we should investigate the people connected with that woman.”
“No. First we must find the missing child.”
“A missing child?”
Tezette looked at Elsez with puzzled eyes.
“But those kids are already dead.”
He had assumed Elsez was referring to the boys whose bodies had been found, but she shook her head.
“There’s one more. A child who hasn’t been found yet.”
Elsez’s gaze had gone to the cluster of potted plants gathered by the window.
“According to the children, each of those pots is individually tended by its owner.”
Elsez remembered inspecting the pots. Something had felt off.
“The soil in all the other pots was wet, but only the one in the corner was dry.”
Telling whether soil was wet or dry wasn’t hard — the color made it obvious.
“That means the owner didn’t water it today.”
If it were any other situation, she wouldn’t have suspected much from a plant left unwatered. But considering a headmaster who was hiding facts about missing children, this was suspicious circumstantial evidence.
“If the pot hasn’t been moved, that means the child hasn’t been missing for long. Which means…”
“You think the child might still be alive?”
“Yes. So we should try to find that child first.”
If there was any chance the child was alive, they had to hurry before something worse happened.
“But things might not be as you think. If that group is capable of thinking at all, they’ll be careful now that the incident has been announced.”
He was right.
It was true the headmaster was hiding something, but Elsez could be speculating about the missing child. With both the temple and the crown watching them, the criminals would be cautious; they wouldn’t risk abducting a child now when everyone was on alert.
‘But that feeling… it doesn’t sit right with me.’
A strange foreboding crept over Elsez. She turned to look at the street, now dim with evening.
Colorful festival ribbons fluttered across the street, and the shops were busy preparing for the festival.
While she stared at this peaceful scene, a story she’d heard earlier that day suddenly came to mind.
“From today the festival begins. It’s also the rare day when His Excellency himself conducts the service as presiding priest…”
As soon as she recalled that line, a puzzle piece that hadn’t fit suddenly slid into place.
“No — they’ll move today for sure.”
Tezette looked at Elsez, who spoke with certainty.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because the festival starts today.”
Tezette paused to think, then caught Elsez’s meaning.
“It wouldn’t be strange for one child to disappear during the festival, when the streets are full.”
Elsez nodded.
Many children had gone missing when festivals were held. Most were simply lost in the crowd and returned safely to their parents, but sometimes children returned dead or could not be accounted for at all.
“For now…”
Just as Elsez was about to lay out her next plan, a small sound and a voice came from a nearby window.
“Sister.”
It was Mia, the child who had earlier opened the orphanage door for them.
‘Ah— I should have spoken after they got in the carriage.’
Elsez glanced back, hoping the child hadn’t overheard. “Sorry for the noise earlier. Did you hear everything we said?”
Mia shook her head.
“You know, are you a good person?”
Elsez tilted her head at the sudden question, then smiled and answered, “Well, I work with His Eminence the Cardinal — I suppose that makes me a good person. Why do you ask?”
The child glanced over her shoulder and leaned in, whispering in a tiny voice.
“Could you find Sister Sera for me?”
“Sister Sera?”
“She’s our sister. Before she went to bed last night she said, if you meet kind grown-ups, tell them to find Sister Sera. She didn’t go anywhere for fun — bad people took her…”
Elsez’s eyes widened with shock, then twisted in pain.
Her suspicion that a child had gone missing had been correct. Tragically so.
“I’ll find her. I promise.”
The child blinked big eyes at Elsez and Tezette, then, hearing someone calling from inside, hurried away.
Elsez looked at Tezette with a complicated expression. His gaze was as calm as ever.
“You knew the child was missing. That she was going to be taken. But why…?”
Why hadn’t the child run away?
“If she ran, they’d take the others.”
Tezette’s voice was matter-of-fact, but Elsez intuited what he meant.
“You mean that was about you? That story about the headmaster whipping someone earlier — and what you just said — was about you?”
She realized he was speaking from experience.
Tezette, who watched Elsez with a tired kind of stare, answered as if recounting his own tale.
“I was weak then, and so that was the natural outcome.”
“That’s not something to accept.”
“…”
“No one should be said to deserve sacrifice just because they’re weak.”
Tezette watched her speak so firmly with a dazed expression.
He remembered hearing similar words from someone else before — a woman who had worn the same pained expression as Elsez does now when she heard another person’s story. That woman had said the same words whether she was the weaker or stronger party, hoping the listener would change their view; she stood by them and spoke those words again and again. In a world where the strong assumed the right to crush the weak, she had been the only one to defend the weak.
‘But Ruel…’
Why did this woman — who shouldn’t be her — seem to overlap with the one from his memory?
“First, send word to His Excellency. Ask him to send people to search for the child.”
“I think it’s better if we handle it ourselves. If too many people move, they’ll notice and hide.”
“No — that’s what we want.”
“You mean they’d flee if they heard more people were searching?”
“If someone realizes they’re being tracked, they won’t kill the child outright. There aren’t many who’d dare act while the net’s closing in. The sirens and vehicles of police in the modern world are meant to do the same: if the criminals hear the chase, they might flee, and that increases the chance of saving the hostage.”
The plan was inspired by how police sirens and rushing cars compel criminals to abandon or change their plans; even if they flee and leave the hostage, the hostage’s safety becomes the top priority.
“If they run away without killing the child, that’s even better.”
“Then you’d let them go — so what if the child’s already dead or might be dead — just to let them escape?”
“If we assume the child is alive, the child’s safety has to be our highest priority.”
“But there’ll always be other sacrifices if you release them. If those scoundrels escape, they’ll take other children next time.”
“We’ll stop the ‘next’ from happening before it starts.”
Tezette couldn’t fully understand the plan, but Elsez was resolute.
“You can’t risk a living child now to prevent a potential future crime. A present life takes priority over a speculative future life.”
Tezette suddenly recalled memories from his orphanage days he had never really examined closely.
Back then the headmaster beat the children whenever he was in a mood. Influenced by him, the older kids grew violent themselves, and the smaller children were often beaten for annoying their older brothers. Tezette had been no exception.
When the younger children complained about the older boys’ violence, the headmaster would tell them:
“Your brothers are stronger than you, so of course you must obey. If you don’t want to be hit more, you’d better listen.”
That had been the little Tezette’s lesson about how the world worked. Later, when he was captured by traffickers in collusion with the headmaster, he thought of that saying again.
‘I’m weak, so this is what must happen to me.’
In that moment, amid the fear of death, he had run away desperately and hid in a back alley. There, he experienced force’s logic again: the weak are trampled; the weak die.
Then one day Ruel had come and overturned that logic.
And where she had disappeared, the woman in front of him had appeared.
What if someone had saved me earlier, he thought.
“If you’re not comfortable, go on alone. I’ll go to His Excellency—”
As Elsez was about to turn away, Tezette’s large hand gripped her arm.
“Come with me.”
To find the child who must be waiting desperately for someone to rescue her — and to save the Tezette of those days who had once waited just as desperately.
