12 – Come to Think of It

In the city, those who failed to generate value were branded as vermin.

This encompassed the homeless, the vagrants, and those with ailing bodies.

He was born amongst such vermin, a worthless insect.

Incapable of accomplishing anything substantial, relying on the kindness and goodwill of others to sustain his life… a vermin destined to vanish unnoticed.

His existence was so insignificant that no one would notice if he were crushed like an ant.

Even after being abducted by a dark mage and imprisoned in a colossal cavern, no one realized he was missing.

– Survive this experiment, and I shall spare you.

Within the cavern, reminiscent of a gigantic jar, the dark mages instilled hope in those confined within, only to subject them to unrelenting torture.

The reason remained a mystery.

They simply extracted pain from the captives without offering a shred of explanation.

Thus, this place was a crucible of isolated poisons, a gathering of all the vermin unfit for life in the outside world.

The one place where all vermin could prove their existence.

*

Siren, by some stroke of luck, survived that place.

Whether enduring that infernal realm for so long could truly be called fortune was debatable.

… Nevertheless, he survived.

The reason remained unclear.

Though, the dark mages occasionally referred to him as a “perfect vessel.”

They could only speculate that they had, by some stroke of luck, fit the criteria they had set.

– The number of sacrifices is insufficient… To create more, we must act directly, but that risks drawing the attention of the Karsaril family. Troublesome.

– Then perhaps orchestrating events so that the Karsaril family cooperates with black magic would be…

Amidst these murmurings, enduring days filled with the tormented moans of countless souls,

a voice echoed through the vast chamber, desperately calling out for family.

Ordinarily, it would have been an outcry easily ignored.

But perhaps because they lay perpetually upon the unfeeling floor, devoid of all warmth,

they found themselves wondering about the nature of a normal family, dwelling incessantly on it.

‘A family is said to embrace one another. And to support one another.’

Recalling stories of families overheard while begging on the streets, they conjured an idealized family in their mind.

A father, perhaps a touch patriarchal, but the first to rush to the rescue when trouble arose.

A mother, gentle and always comforting.

An older brother, ever teasing, but always there to help.

Just as they were smiling softly, dreaming of a perfect family they could never have, the black mage announced it was time to begin the experiments anew.

And so they came to consume the despair of so many.

Though ‘injected into the mind’ would be a more accurate description than ‘consumed.’

Yet, with each ingress, a revulsion rose like forcibly swallowing food, rendering it akin to eating.

And so, for an age, they swallowed negativity, conjuring visions of a family that could never be.

There was no grand reason.

When the agony of consuming the negativity ceased, there was nothing else to do, and it was the only way to briefly escape the torment.

Thus, as they meticulously crafted their idealized family, assigning details to each member,

they began to feel a loneliness sharper than any they had known, a chilling coldness that seeped into their bones.

And so they found themselves trapped in a solitary confinement, reminiscent of the most virulent poison, overwhelmed by despair.

The next day, and the day after, and the day after that…

Lost to the passage of time, unaware of what transpired, they were merely a vessel, fed only despair using the deaths of countless others as its raw material.

Then, from the distance, a warmth emanated.

For reasons unknown, simply his approach sent waves of heat rippling outward, warming them to their core.

The sensation was so long absent that they froze, staring at him,

as the man who approached offered his hand slowly, speaking softly to them.

“Come with me?”

I can’t say why, but a fierce intuition slammed into me, one I couldn’t afford to ignore.

Like seizing a lifeline, I wrapped both hands urgently around him, and he hoisted me up with ease, saying,

“Is this a cat, or a person?”

“……?”

For reasons unknown, he lifted me high, sighing, and then.

He simply scooped me into his arms, pulling me out of a solitude so bitterly cold and dark it felt like forever.

* * * * *

I looked at Siren, cradled in my arms, and forced a wry smile.

The original plan had been to uncover the mastermind behind Lilia’s assassination, but instead of a mastermind, I’d ended up picking up a strange girl.

I couldn’t say for sure, but considering she would later become a great mage, it felt prudent to bring her along, so I started walking, still holding her.

Lorraine, seeing this, looked at me with obvious bewilderment.

“…Young Master, are you going to go like that?”

My heart wanted to put Siren down and tell her to follow on her own,

but she clung to me as if she’d never let go, making it rather awkward to pry her off, so I gave up and continued onward.

‘Either way, befriending Siren, the future Archmage, couldn’t hurt.’

Deciding to foster some goodwill, I let her be for a while, and soon reached the mansion.

I sighed, noticing the gazes of countless maids fixed upon me, and asked the closest one for a favor.

“Could you bathe this one, feed her, and then let her rest in one of the guest rooms?”

“Y-yes, Young Master.”

The maid seemed terrified just to be speaking to me, her eyes glued to the floor, trembling visibly.

Wanting to leave the poor girl alone, I told Lorraine,

“Get this one off me, please.”

“Yes.”

Lorraine easily scooped Siren up, and then, dragging the squirming girl by the hand, led her away towards the maids.

I massaged my shoulder, sighed, and went to the mansion’s inner garden for a moment of rest.

‘It seems certain that dark magic was involved in Lilia’s assassination…’

The assassination and this sewer I found don’t seem to be connected, leaving me a little puzzled.

I was pondering whether I was missing something when a question suddenly surfaced in my mind.

‘Come to think of it, that dark sorcerer was being awfully friendly with Damian.’

More than just acting like he knew him, he was going on and on, chattering away as if it were perfectly natural, even when I was blatantly ignoring him.

The odds of them knowing each other seemed high, so digging into that angle felt worthwhile.

Though more investigation was needed. I pondered if these dark sorcerers were burrowing deeper into the city than I’d realized.

Decided, I would report this matter to the head of the clan.

*

All I knew about Dominic Carsaril, head of the Carsaril clan, was this:

That he was a Sword Master capable of cleaving anything with his intent alone, and that he held immense political power as the head of the Carsaril family.

What kind of person he truly was, let alone what he thought of Damian, remained a mystery.

So I resolved to tread carefully, gauging his reaction before committing, and knocked on the door of the clan head’s office.

“Enter.”

A muted, resonant voice drifted from within.

Cautiously, I opened the door and stepped inside. I saw the clan head at a desk of antique make, the kind crafted with painstaking detail over countless hours. He was occupied with his duties.

I greeted him, and he responded with a curt question.

“So, what is it?”

My heart yearned to tell him about Lilia noona’s impending assassination.

But doing so would likely raise questions about my ‘source’ of information, so rather than being direct,

it was wiser to lay the groundwork based on what I had uncovered.

Thus, doing my best to remain composed, I gave a concise explanation of what had transpired.

The traces of human experimentation found at the site, the remnants of countless lives sacrificed.

Adding that this experimentation seemed to have been ongoing for quite some time, I watched the clan head.

He seemed surprised that I had brought him this information, staring at me silently before nodding his head and saying,

“I will dispatch investigators and the Knights to verify this immediately.”

“Yes.”

Without tangible proof, there was a real chance he would dismiss it as a baseless report or an insignificant detail, which filled me with apprehension.

But contrary to my fears, he was taking it seriously, vowing to investigate, and a wave of relief washed over me.

I was about to express my gratitude when,

“And you’ve worked hard. You’ve performed admirably.”

Unexpected praise rang in my ears.

Given his authoritative aura, I had expected him to be stingy with compliments, so this casual praise caught me off guard.

The Head’s compliment seemed to embarrass him, for he suddenly fell silent, studying the report again.

“……”

A little flustered by the situation, I gave an awkward smile, thinking it was probably a good time to leave.

Just then, the Head, as if struck by a thought while reading the report, calmly lifted his gaze and said to me, impassively,

“Come to think of it, I forgot to mention. Negotiations with the Wintraven family have concluded, and a date for the annulment has been set. Ten days from now, in the Central City.”