Chapter 56

――They are laughing.

The first words thrown at the crowd of gutter rats were these, devoid of any context.

In the back of the audience, Wood, who had been crouching to hide, trembled his thick lips. His slightly shaking left hand was held by his sister, Cereal.

The night in the slums was terribly dark. The sky was painted pitch black, and only the brothels were lively, their lights leaking out but blocked by the walls.

Most people would be asleep by now, plugging their ears against the cheers echoing from within the walls.

But today, things were a little different. In the square in front of the old tavern, where a giant tree stood symbolically, a bright fire was lit.

The sparks flew, illuminating his figure in the darkness.

"Well, where should I start? To be honest, I didn't really think much about the content, and I'm sorry for gathering you all here," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wasn't nervous at all, standing before the crowd, illuminated by the fire.

He called himself Lougis, the man in green. Despite his youthful appearance, he sometimes showed cunning and sometimes showed simplicity, a peculiar person. He was the one who proposed to form a contract with Wood and Cereal.

Wood knew his intentions, the content of his plan. To change the slums. To repaint the walls with a different color, he had said.

That's why he gathered so many people today. As far as Wood's face could reach, from the young to the old, men and women alike.

His legs were about to turn to sticks from running around the slums for the first time in a long time, hoping that his plan would work out just a little.

But the result was clear.

The bored faces of the gathered crowd, the faces that showed no interest.

They didn't come to hear his story; they were like insects drawn to the light. They came just because they were told to, because there was a fire. There was no meaning to it. Wood understood this well.

Wood clenched his hand slightly. Cereal's body twitched for a moment, but she didn't seem to be in pain, just looking at him curiously. To reassure her, he relaxed his cheek, his eyes narrowing.

Expectation and disappointment swirled together. To Wood, Lougis was the savior of his sister's life. He wanted to do everything he could for her.

But nothing would change.

If a single word could change something. If his cowardice could be erased like a light mist, and if his sister's voice could sing again, there would be nothing more joyful.

But that was impossible. It couldn't happen. His eyelids closed slightly, and his eyes looked away from Lougis.

"…I understand what you're saying. You want to tear down that wall, right?"

An old man, whose beard and hair were so long that it was impossible to tell where the beard ended and the hair began, spoke in a thin voice.

He was called the elder by everyone. Here, just living a long time was enough to earn respect, as most people didn't know if they would live to see the next day.

Lougis nodded slowly at the elder's words. "That's right, I understand."

"We can't do that… That wall has been the same since I was a kid. Even if we gather here, what can we do?"

The thin voice resonated well in the quiet darkness.

Wood's ears held onto the words. Yes, that's right. What can we do? We are just going to be crushed.

Yes, he had been the same. Wood clenched his teeth. The scene from back then still flashed in his mind, keeping him awake at night.

Perhaps it was youthful folly, gathering the young men of the slums and acting like a leader. He thought he could reach that wall someday, that he could do it.

But reality was different. His sister was taken hostage, his so-called friends betrayed him, and his body made sickening sounds every time he was beaten by the guards. He couldn't even put up a decent fight.

He should have died then. If he had, he could have died bravely. But it didn't happen. This overly sturdy body wouldn't allow it. Even though he could do nothing now.

And so, the only one left was the coward Wood, who couldn't even save his sister, who had lost her voice, and just trembled in the tavern.

"Indeed, you are quite right. I feel the same. I feel like I'm on stage without a script."

Lougis spoke as if he was gently accepting the elder's pointed words.

It didn't sound like a speech or the words of someone trying to move people. It was very ordinary, and the tone was light.

"How about it, old man? How's your daily life? Can you manage to live with the blessings of heaven?"

The topic was nothing special, like an extension of small talk. The elder, looking puzzled, chose his words carefully.

"Yes, I can live. Even if I have to rub my head on the ground, I can live here. So, we are fine as we are."

In those words, everything was contained. Everything about the slums. It was fine. They could live. They didn't want to suffer. They didn't want to be squeezed any more, physically or mentally.

If they could just feel miserable, if they could just bend, it was fine. No matter how unjust, no matter how unreasonable, no matter how ridiculous their way of life was.

The silence of the audience followed the elder's words. It was terribly quiet in the darkness. No one wanted to be hurt anymore.

"…I understand, I really do, old man. There's nothing left, no dignity, no fighting spirit. It's all been trampled. Yes, it's always been like that."

The words were strangely heartfelt. Lougis's lips closed. Was this the end? Yes, it was. In the end, it had to end. Whether long or short, the result was the same. If so, it was better to end it quickly.

Wood stepped forward, about to announce the end of the gathering.

"Indeed, if there's anything left, it's—"

*

"—No matter how you think about it, it's impossible. It would be easier to turn the world upside down."

He broke down the words he had been rehearsing in his head and let them out with a sigh.

And, he had asked Un and Fiarato to do some preliminary work. It was just a trick, but it was better than nothing.

But before that, he had to liven up the atmosphere a bit as a warm-up. With his tongue. But if he could do that, there would be no such thing as hardship in this world, and he would surely be living a much easier life.

He had always been the kind of person who had managed to survive with tricks.

But now, he had to speak boldly and directly. To stir people's hearts and make them cry. That was something better left to bards.

This was Arieuno's specialty. He could tell stories, stand on the same level as his audience, and inspire them.

Ah, he should have observed him more closely during their travels, not just admire him. Regret now clouded his mind.

They were the same as the residents of the slums, apathetic, resigned, and lacking the strength to resist. It was impossible to persuade such people.

Just like he used to be.

No, wait.

A shadow passed through his mind, a faint sense of something nagging.

—If it's impossible, why am I here now?

Indeed, they were a living replica of his former self.

But he was standing here, wasn't he? Was it the words of that shadow, the one who had brought him to this era, that had inspired him?

He picked up the words that had been spoken to him in the past from his memory.

None of them seemed particularly significant. They were indeed strange and had a certain allure, but why? Why did he feel like taking his hand there?

Even when he searched his memory from beginning to end and asked his former self, he couldn't understand.

'You don't need to worry about such things, do you?'

The shadow passed through his mind again, as if sneaking in. A black figure.

It was as if the shadow that had once spoken to him was being recreated in his mind. Despite it having been a long time since it had appeared, it spoke quite convincingly. He was impressed by his own imagination.

If it had come out, it might as well persuade the residents of the slums.

'Oh, don't rely on me. My words are mine, and your words are yours. They can't be borrowed!'

Of course, the shadow whispered as if it could see through his thoughts, since it was in his mind.

Yes, that's right. If everything could be solved with your words, there would be no need to worry.

How ridiculous, a dry smile appeared on his face at the thought of a one-man play in his own mind. He must be quite desperate.

'Besides, it's not good for idols like us to help people too much. So, I will only say one thing—why you stood up and are standing here now.'

The shadow ran around his mind as usual, full of enthusiasm.

But indeed, you might know. The one who brought him here, the one who inspired him.

Tell me. Even if it's a lie, I need a trigger now.

Even though it was a play in his own mind, his breathing became shallow as if he didn't want to miss a word.

'That is, ah, that is—'

*

"If there's anything left, it's—overwhelming hatred, isn't it?"

In the silence, his voice was no longer calm but agitated. The side of his face, illuminated by the fire, smiled with a twisted cheek.

The old man stared at Lougis in a daze. Wood and Cereal also couldn't understand the meaning of the words.

Hatred, the feeling of resentment. Why would that come up?

The flames scattered sparks and burned brightly. Lougis's shadow stretched distortedly.

"Sure, that's fine, old man. If you want to be a good person, that's fine too. Even if your village is conquered by Galaruamaria, and you are trampled underfoot, if you can live without a single feeling of hatred, that's truly admirable. A great saint."

A shiver ran down his spine.

The hair on his neck stood up, and he swallowed involuntarily. The elder, the gathered audience, and the crowd of gutter rats all held their breath.

No, stop. Don't say what comes next. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it, their eyes said.

"I heard there was a beautiful fishing village nearby. They caught fish in the morning and drank in the evening, not rich but not poor. They lived good days—now, it's said to be demolished to become a port for trade. Quite proper, since it seems to be the will of God."

The feeling of being stroked by claws deep in his chest. No one wanted to touch it. No one wanted to remember. Memories hidden behind a dark curtain. Lougis's words lifted the edge of that curtain.

The flickering flames and their shadows cast a fantastic light on a person in the darkness.

"—Ah, gentlemen, think back. What was behind the current hardship and humiliating life?"

His tone changed again.

It wasn't the same provocative tone as before. It wasn't the rough tone of someone forcibly reaching into the depths of one's heart. Rather, it was a tone like someone telling a story, and the words were well-ordered.

Lougis's eyes met Wood's, who was standing with the large tree in the square behind him. A feeling close to fear seemed to crawl up from Wood's heels. It quickly spread throughout his body, momentarily stopping his heart.

"Yes, think back. Who took away your dignity, who deprived you of the right to live under the sun, who made the surrounding villages wastelands to fatten themselves?—It's all the people inside the wall, isn't it?"

Saying that, Lougis raised his hands and pointed to the wall.

It wasn't a loud voice. But it was a voice that seemed to creep up from the depths of the earth. A single, unmistakable emotion, hatred, colored the words.

Following Lougis's outstretched hands, the audience, like a well-disciplined crowd of gutter rats, all turned to look at the wall behind them.

The wall that had separated them from the citizens. The wall that could never be crossed. The symbol of glory, the great wall of Galaruamaria.

"Yes, they took everything from us. From me, from you. I can't say that we can take it all back. I will only say one thing, just one."

The fierce flames seemed to have transferred their intensity to Lougis's voice.

The flames scattered sparks and gradually spread. Something sticky, like a creature crawling up from the depths of people's hearts, was opening its eyes.

"—We will turn everything to ashes. We will take back from them what they have taken from us. If their great holy teaching speaks of the equality of souls, we will drag them down to the ground equally."

It wasn't a persuasive speech. It wasn't a plea for understanding. It was a true torrent of emotion.

His unceasing heart of hatred. His endless resolve for revenge. These emotions rode on his words and melted into the darkness.

Wood's eyes widened, and his throat felt strangely dry. Holding his brother's hand, Cereal blinked as sweat dripped from her forehead.

There was no power in those words. There was no power to shake the audience, the residents of the slums. Especially not from just one young man. If there was anything in the words, it was just one emotion.

"…But… what can we… do…"

The elder murmured slightly, as if being crushed by the oppressive atmosphere, like a sob.

"Ah, look. Listen carefully."

The voice was like a storyteller. Slowly, Lougis placed his hand on the elder's shoulder and said,

"—They are laughing."

In the silent darkness, everyone naturally focused all their attention on their ears.

I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it. We've been pretending not to see it, not to hear it. We thought it was fine. The crowd of gutter rats, Wood, and Cereal.

Inside the wall, it was bright day and night. It was a sign of a trading city. During the day, merchants ran around, and at night, the rich indulged in luxury, drawn by the goods. And so, money circulated in the city.

Men's voices, women's voices, young voices, old voices. Their laughter crept out of the wall, as if celebrating the prosperity of the city, as if saying that everything in this world was happy.