IWTGHFW CHAPTER 44

Episode 44

“So you’re saying the prince of Aint might have been sold at Carrie’s bar?”
“That’s a possibility. Or he might have been passed on to another slave dealer. That’s why I wanted to see if Sir Reynald might know something—would that be okay?”
“I don’t mind.”

Lynolph wrote his home address on a piece of paper and handed it to me. He added that since Reynald had seen my face before, he wouldn’t be suspicious, and asked me to tell him not to worry because he was healthy and doing well.

Right away, I set out on a trip to find Lynolph’s house, as written on the note. It was a small two-story home on the outskirts of the capital—nothing compared to Ron’s enormous mansion, but tidy, charming, and picturesque, like something straight out of a painting.

Knock, knock.
I rapped on the door, and heard movement inside. Thump, thump, thump—small footsteps approached, and soon the door opened.

“Uh… Lord Ail?”
“Hello. We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

Reynald blinked in surprise, then stumbled through recalling my name. When I grinned and extended my hand, he shook it with a bewildered look.

Following his lead inside, I saw the neat interior—warm wooden furniture in a clean living room and bedroom. The modest house reflected the personalities of the brothers Rey and Lyn in every corner.

“So, um… what brings you here? Did something happen to my brother? Has a trial date been set?”

Even though Reynald had a rough idea of Lynolph’s situation, he didn’t know the full details, and concern filled his face. Before his worry could deepen, I waved my hand.

“Sir Lynolph is fine. I came for another reason today.”
“Another reason?”
“Yes. I wanted to hear about the time you worked at Carrie’s bar. Would that be okay? I know it might be a painful memory.”

He had been sold there as a child and worked like a slave for ten years—it had to have been hell. I asked in as careful a tone as possible, worried I might upset him. But to my relief, Reynald readily nodded, saying it was fine.

“Things got better after my brother became a knight. Thanks to him, I could meet my quotas and didn’t get beaten anymore.”

I looked at his young, innocent face speaking so brightly, and clenched my fists.

This kind of thing had to be wiped out. It was the worst kind of cruelty humans could inflict on one another—treating people like objects to be bought and sold.

“Do you remember anything from ten years ago?”
“Hmm… Ten years ago I was so little, so I don’t really… Why?”
“I was wondering if you ever saw a boy with blue hair and blue eyes—he would’ve looked like the sea itself, and was about four years old.”
“Was he a slave? Or like me, a kid sold to work at the bar?”
“Most likely a slave.”
“A slave… hmm…”

Reynald thought for a moment, then shook his head. Even if he’d been young, he said, he wouldn’t have forgotten such a striking-looking child if he had seen him.

But since he hadn’t worked directly in the slave trading section, he couldn’t be completely sure. Looking down with a downcast expression, he added,

“Actually, I only found out recently that the bar was being used as a slave market. I was always on the first floor doing serving work… Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Then… do you know anyone who worked in the slave trading section back then?”
“Hmm, ah! Maybe Sister Marian would know.”

Apparently, Marian was the oldest of the kids working at the bar and acted like a pillar for the others. Being the oldest, she handled all sorts of tasks at the bar, so she probably went into the slave trading area too.

“And blue hair and blue eyes—that’s a rare combination. If she saw him, she’d definitely remember.”

Unfortunately, Reynald didn’t know where Marian lived now. She had suddenly quit one day, and he didn’t even know if “Marian” was her real name. That meant the lead was practically useless.

I asked him more about Carrie’s bar, then left his house.

The more I heard, the angrier I became—like watching a movie or drama villain torment the main character. Buying and selling children like slaves, beating and exploiting them if they weren’t “valuable” enough.

Even though I had already read about this cruelty in official documents, hearing it firsthand made my blood boil all over again. But Carrie’s bar had already been shut down, and the people involved had all been sentenced to heavy punishments by the Crown Prince. They were living lives worse than death—there was no point in staying angry.

Back at the palace, I went straight to Marquis Orion’s office in the underground information bureau.

“Coming to me with nothing but a name and asking me to find someone? We’re short on people right now. Even if we weren’t, that’s not enough to track someone down. The Empire’s huge, you know.”
“‘Marian’ isn’t that common a name, is it? Can’t you at least compile a list? We could check identity tags or something. I’ll do the searching myself.”
“It’s not common, but it’s not rare either. And a lot of commoners don’t even have birth records. A list will only get you so far.”
“Still, we should try. You never know—we might get lucky and find her in one shot.”

I refused to back down, countering each of Orion’s objections. He frowned at my retorts but didn’t bother scolding me.

Well, what could he say? We were both carrying out the Crown Prince’s orders. If it came to it, I could even bring up the prince himself.

But then Orion said something that made me pause.

“Marian… Marian. That name sounds familiar.”

He tapped the table with his index finger, then suddenly yanked open a cabinet behind him. Inside was a sea of file folders, crammed so tightly they looked ready to spill out.

Holy crap. All that’s information?

The underground office was filled wall-to-wall with these filing cabinets, aside from Orion’s desk, his chair, and a few extra seats.

If all that was paper records… Wow. If there’s ever a fire in here, it’s over.

This world didn’t have USB drives, external hard drives, or computers. Paper burned easily, even from a small flame. It looked like they had everything from the Empire’s history to private details about important figures stored here—one fire could wipe out the lot.

As if reading my mind, Orion smirked.
“You were just thinking how disastrous a fire here would be, weren’t you?”
“Huh? How did you…?”
“Every rookie in the bureau says the exact same thing. Don’t worry—they’re all recorded on magic stones. These are just the originals.”

Ah, right. This world had those overpowered magic stones instead of computers. If you added a little modern ingenuity, you could probably make something like a smartphone.

While I was daydreaming about that, Orion pulled out the folder he’d been looking for and handed it to me.
“Yeah—Marian. That was the name of a maid who once served under the Second Prince.”
“The Second Prince…?”

Mishy?

My mind raced. Wait—why did I first go to see Mishy again? Oh right, it was about money given to a retired maid. And that maid’s name… was Marian.

Carefully taking the folder, I flipped through it. It contained basic information about Marian—records from when she joined the palace, along with details the bureau had gathered independently.

“We keep records on anyone close to the royal family. It’s probably not a coincidence. Go find her first. If she’s not the Marian you’re looking for, then we’ll move the bureau.”

It did feel a bit like he was trying to send me on a wild goose chase—but I couldn’t refuse. There was still a chance she was the right Marian, and maybe I’d get lucky.

Nodding, I committed her address to memory. All investigations start with taking a leap into the unknown. I summoned the same rookie-year determination I’d had fourteen years ago.

If Marian had left the capital, finding her would have been hard, but fortunately she was still here. I gave Mien an apologetic batch of cookies for asking “Another business trip?” and headed out of the palace.

At first, leaving the palace had been exciting—heart-pounding—but it hadn’t taken long for me to get used to it. Now, even passing through the palace gates felt ordinary.

The capital’s mansions of high-ranking nobles like Ron surrounded the palace in a loose ring. Beyond that lay the commercial district, bustling with lower nobles and wealthy merchants.

I’d been here plenty of times before—Carrie’s bar was located here, and Lynolph’s house wasn’t far.

A bit further on was the area where commoners lived. I didn’t know its official name, but since most commoners lived here, I’d dubbed it the “commoner district.”

What? Don’t give me grief about my naming sense.