Bailonz Street 13

The letter in the form of a will maintained its cheerful tone until the end.

Who else would describe their own death so cheerfully? While reading this letter, I truly couldn’t understand Owen Cassfire as a person.

Liam received the letter and brushed it gently. A faint light flickered from his fingertips and enveloped the entire letter.

“…Are you preserving it?”

“Yes.”

Then he carefully stored it inside his coat.

Liam appeared unwilling to treat anything Owen left behind carelessly. I felt the same way. Until I return to my world, until all this is resolved, I’ll do my best with what I can.

“We should go to the orphanage. Can’t ignore such a letter.”

I smiled gently and nudged Liam’s side.

“Why so gruff? You were planning to go anyway.”

“…I’m just annoyed.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

I opened my arms. After hesitating, Liam came into my embrace. Holding me tight, Liam Moore murmured.

“He said goodbye.”

“What kind?”

“‘Take care,’ he said…”

Liam said at first he thought it was just a casual farewell before leaving for his task.

“Or maybe he was provoking me.”

“Owen does that sometimes.”

“But thinking now that it was his final goodbye… I wonder why I didn’t stop him then. I should have handled the altar myself and sent someone else.”

Oh dear. Here we go again. Liam Moore’s trademark digging himself into a hole. The very thing that drives Owen crazy.

Seeing how small the shoulders of the man in my arms seemed, I raised my patting hand high.

And WHACK!

“Oof!”

Liam looked at me with puppy-dog eyes after getting hit on the back. He stammered.

“Why, why? What was that for?”

“You would have regretted it the same way even if you’d sent someone else.”

“…”

“What if Herschel had gone? Would you not have regretted that too? You’d be regretting it just the same no matter who went there. Regretting that you couldn’t go yourself. Get it together, Liam Moore. How long are you going to blame yourself for things that have already happened?”

Owen’s death is sad. The world losing his witty remarks is probably a tragedy. But that’s no reason to keep digging yourself into a hole.

“Are you going to get Lawrence or not?”

Liam snapped to attention as if he’d been slapped across the face. Though I’d hit his back, not his face, I was somewhat relieved to see him return to his rational, clear-headed self.

‘What would he really do without me?’

I felt a bit worried. Someone needs to pull digging-Liam out and dry him off properly so he doesn’t get moldy. But I didn’t think I’d be staying here long enough to see him manage that on his own.

Now I stepped into the water surface that had become all too familiar. The cold water swallowed me from the calves up.

* * *

The orphanage, being further in London’s outskirts than expected, had survived the monster attacks. That was fortunate amid the misfortune. I had absolutely no desire to show walking corpses and horrific monsters to growing children. There’s a reason why age ratings exist. Even though worse things happened routinely in 19th century London’s slums than anything age-restricted, I still believed children should only see and hear good things while growing up.

Everyone around seemed to have taken shelter inside and locked their doors. The distant sounds of gunfire and monster cries must have made them anxious. Spotting eyes watching us through windows, I cleared my throat softly. Without moving my lips, I whispered to Liam.

“Looks like people haven’t evacuated from here.”

“Scotland Yard couldn’t have stretched their attention this far. They probably didn’t even know what was happening.”

We knocked on the orphanage door several times. While waiting for someone to answer, Liam Moore suddenly noticed something about me and hurriedly removed his cloak to wrap it around my neck. With it fastened tightly up to my neck, I asked.

“What’s this for?”

“You’re covered in blood.”

Ah. Right.

After being thrown around in the Black King’s perverted training game, I looked like someone who had crawled out of a death pit. My body’s wounds had healed, of course. But while the King could heal me, he couldn’t clean up torn clothes or blood that had already flowed. In other words, I looked like a living corpse. The orphanage children would be frightened by clothes soaked in blood. Fortunately, falling into the Thames had at least washed the blood from my hands and face.

“Who is it?”

A middle-aged man poked his head out with a suspicious expression. Upon seeing us, he immediately frowned. He seemed to be one of those who had heard our ‘reputation.’

Come to think of it, I wondered suddenly. Has the Black King’s voice reached this far?

“…We’re looking for a child.”

Liam spoke.

“Lawrence. We heard he’s here.”

“I have no children to show to people like you.”

At this insolent tone, Liam’s forehead twitched.

“Harold Stone. Age 52, divorced. Known for crawling into rigged gambling dens, losing your money, and coming back for more. When the debts grew beyond what you could handle, you sold children to resolve them, didn’t you? Have you ever once wondered how those children you sold are living?”

This man must surely be Harold Stone.

While I was still processing Liam’s flood of words, Harold Stone reacted differently. His face turned white as paper, and he tried to shut the orphanage door without warning. I pulled out my sword from under the cloak and wedged it under the door.

When the door wouldn’t close as if caught on something, Harold Stone pulled the handle in confusion.

“What’s wrong with this?”

Liam winked at me. Then he raised his long leg and kicked the orphanage door with a bang.

The door flew open backward with tremendous force. It shouldn’t have been able to open in that direction given the hinge structure.

Harold Stone fell backward, landing hard on his bottom.

“You seem to have forgotten Her Majesty’s law prohibiting human trafficking. Shall we pursue this further? Or will you quietly lead us to Lawrence?”

This was the arrogant Liam Moore I hadn’t seen in a while. While I was still considering how to persuade him, Liam had chosen to immediately threaten the orphanage director. Typical efficiency-minded Liam. It was both astounding and slightly amusing.

Harold Stone prostrated himself and said.

“…I’ll lead you to Lawrence.”

“A wise choice.”

Throughout guiding us, Harold Stone kept glancing around nervously and hemming and hawing.

“Well, if you’d wait in the reception room…”

“We need to verify ourselves.”

“Lawrence is very shy…”

“He’ll get used to us gradually.”

It was like a battle between spear and shield.

By this point, I could sense from Harold Stone’s attitude that he didn’t want to take us to where Lawrence was staying. I’d wondered why he was hesitating so much, but when we passed the second and third floors and headed up to the attic, I understood.

What a bastard.

It’s January now. The winter weather in London is terrible enough without saying more. I whispered ominously behind Harold Stone.

“In January, you make a child live in the attic?”

“The other children are scared of him…!”

“Then you should have given him a private room, you scoundrel!”

Enough. If I heard any more excuses, I might push someone from this height. I went ahead and opened the door.

One old bed, and a cabinet. The air feels cold. Though the window was closed, the outside chill seemed to seep in without insulation. A child stood in front of that window.

“Lawrence?”

Lawrence slowly turned his head. The wine-red hair was visible first. Then the deep green eyes.

The moment we first saw him, Liam and I were surprised because we could see Owen in Lawrence’s features. Though they were distant cousins, there was definitely a resemblance. In other words, he looked like a Cassfire.

I carefully opened my mouth.

“Are you Lawrence?”

“…Who are you?”

Harold Stone, who had been watching nervously, fled saying he would prepare the documents and leaving us here. Let him. Regardless, I bent slightly to meet the child’s eyes.

“Owen sent us.”

“Uncle did?”

It seems Owen thought various relationships were too complicated to explain. He apparently taught the child to call him uncle.

“Why didn’t he come himself?”

It seems sharp intelligence runs in Owen’s family.

Liam and I fell silent at that part. Should we already tell this young child about someone’s death? But if Lawrence, who was more intelligent than his peers, found out about Owen’s death later, he might feel betrayed.

Seeing us hesitate, Lawrence sighed.

“Please don’t treat me like a child and tell me.”

Since he had uncannily pinpointed why we were hesitating, I rolled my eyes. What could we do? He wanted the truth. Finally, Liam had no choice but to speak first.

“Your uncle… Owen Cassfire has died.”

“…”

The child’s expressionless face wavered slightly.