“Shall we get going now?”
Early in the morning, Bliss, Reina, and I left the lord’s castle.
The reason for our early departure was to carry out the task decided during our small meeting yesterday.
And that task was none other than conducting an investigation.
You might wonder, “Another investigation?” But this one was a bit different from the ones we had done in Rudria and Viln previously.
This time, it was more like a public opinion survey about the Church of Origin.
The reason for this was simple. While our goal was to curb the influence of the End Church, we lacked any concrete knowledge about their current strength or the state of the Church of Origin in Viln.
Because of this, Bliss suggested that we spend the next few days investigating both the End Church and the Church of Origin in Viln. We agreed and decided to divide the areas among ourselves for a thorough survey.
We split into three teams: the Hero and Agnes as Team 1, Bliss, Reina, and I as Team 2, and Olivia as Team 3.
The reason for these teams was that Viln could be roughly divided into three distinct zones based on the characteristics of its residents and areas, as Liam had explained to us during our stay here.
The first zone was the central area, where the lord’s castle and the surrounding buildings were located. This was home to Viln’s wealthiest residents, including the lord himself. Being centrally located, it was also the safest part of the city. Houses here were expensive, and the residents were typically wealthy merchants or magicians, making it the quietest and most secure zone.
The second zone was the area between the central and outer zones. This zone served as a middle ground, where goods were sold to residents from both the central and outer zones. As such, it had a high concentration of merchants and was home to a bustling marketplace. Though not as secure as the central area, the lord had stationed guards here, indicating its importance.
The third and outermost zone was home to the common folk—farmers who lived off the land. Even within this zone, the area was further divided into two sub-areas. The first sub-area housed farmers who lived in villages. While less secure than the second zone, this area was relatively peaceful thanks to the farmers’ tight-knit communities and the presence of guards who patrolled twice daily.
The problem lay in the second sub-area: the slums.
The slums were home to a diverse mix of people—migrants, those struggling financially, orphans, and others with various hardships. Originally small, the slums had grown rapidly due to recent crop failures, which left many people destitute.
The slums were known as the most dangerous part of Viln, rife with violence, theft, and robbery. Occasionally, groups of daring individuals would even attack the guards. In response, the lord would dispatch his knights to retaliate, temporarily restoring order. However, these attacks persisted despite repeated crackdowns.
As a result, guards no longer patrolled the slums, deeming it too challenging and unnecessary to police such a chaotic area.
In short, the slums had become a lawless zone.
With these three zones in mind, we divided the investigation: Olivia, a noble, took the prideful central zone; the Hero and Agnes volunteered for the dangerous slums; and we were assigned the middle zone, which included the marketplace.
This investigation was particularly significant to me because the Hero planned to base his future actions on the results of our findings. Depending on the outcome, the Hero’s next steps would be determined.
The method of investigation was straightforward—asking merchants about their religion or gathering opinions from residents.
Though it might seem ineffective for just a handful of us to conduct a public opinion survey, Bliss assured us that the busy marketplace would provide ample opportunities, and other Church of Origin believers in Viln would assist with areas outside the market.
While her optimism didn’t completely convince me, I had no choice but to go along with it.
Such is my unfortunate life.
“Where would you like to start, Ruina?”
“Hmm… as we discussed yesterday, let’s start with the eastern market.”
Today, I planned to begin our investigation in the eastern market. Viln had four markets—east, west, south, and north. The eastern market was known for selling daily necessities and food, making it a gathering spot for many people.
I had judged this to be the most optimal location for our investigation and decided it would be best to start there.
You might think, “Won’t four markets be too much to cover?” But we planned to investigate one market per day, focusing solely on the survey. It wouldn’t take as long as it seemed.
Additionally, while investigating, we could also check on how the End Church’s free meal distribution center in the central plaza was being utilized, ensuring a comprehensive survey.
“Alright, let’s head east!” Bliss replied enthusiastically, and we set off toward the eastern market.
Having visited the eastern market at night with Reina before, the experience felt different during the day. The market revealed a new side of itself under the daylight.
“Come and buy! Plenty of cheap and good items here!”
“Fresh meat! Just delivered yesterday, so it’s still fresh!”
“Check out these clothes!”
“Magic tools for sale!”
As always, the voices of merchants shouting to sell their goods filled the air, accompanied by the bustling presence of children, adults, and the elderly.
At first glance, it didn’t seem much different from the night market. However, being daytime, the crowd was even larger than at night.
While the night market had been filled with food stalls, the day market was dominated by merchants selling goods and ingredients.
The difference was clear.
Arriving at the lively eastern market, we began our investigation immediately.
The method was simple: as mentioned earlier, we would ask merchants about their religion or listen to residents’ stories.
We chose to focus on merchants because they were stationary, making it easier to approach them than trying to stop random passersby.
Merchants also interacted with many people daily, making them valuable sources of information about local gossip and public sentiment.
And so, we approached our first “honored and noble” investigation target at a shop near the market entrance.
“Hello,” I greeted.
“Welcome! Is there anything you’re looking for?” the merchant replied cheerfully.
Bliss flashed a bright smile and spoke. “Excuse us, we’re from the Church of Origin. We’re conducting a small investigation for the church. Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”
“Oh… sure! Feel free to ask anything.”
Thankfully, the merchant didn’t refuse.
“Thank you. May I ask which religion you follow?”
“I’m a believer in the Church of Origin.”
Hearing this, Bliss’s voice grew even brighter. “Oh! A fellow sister in faith! Sister, do you happen to know anything about the End Church…?”
Bliss began questioning the merchant about the End Church.
It was a straightforward process.
Yet, for some reason, the scene felt oddly familiar. A strange sense of déjà vu hung in my mind.
Puzzled, I tried to recall where I’d seen this situation before, and soon, it hit me.
‘This is just like those “Do you know about our faith?” street evangelists!’
Looking at Bliss again, her sudden questions and inquiries about religion reminded me of the proselytizers you often encounter on busy streets.
If there’s one notable difference between us and the street preachers, it might be Bliss’s stunning appearance.
Ah, but come to think of it, religious missionaries also often used attractive individuals to draw attention, so maybe it’s not so different after all.
Honestly, I used to wonder why anyone would do this sort of thing, but now that I’m the one doing it, it feels strange. I never thought I’d find myself in such a situation. Life sure is unpredictable.
Oh, right… I did end up in a different world. Maybe that’s why?
While I was nostalgically reflecting on how unexpected this was, Bliss continued asking the merchant a few more questions.
“Alright, we’re done here. Let’s head to the next stall,” Bliss said, turning to me after finishing her questioning.
And what was I doing during that time? I realized a critical flaw in this investigation method.
The issue? It took about five minutes to question a single merchant.
Why is five minutes a problem, you ask? Let me explain based on a little experiment I conducted out of boredom during the night market visit with Reina.
I had casually counted the number of stalls in the market back then. How many do you think there were? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?
Wrong. The number I counted exceeded 150.
And that wasn’t even a precise count—I merely estimated. Even so, it was clear that there were at least 150 stalls in the night market.
Now, this is during the day, which means even more stalls are likely open. And Bliss intends to survey every single one of them today.
Let’s do some quick math.
If questioning one merchant takes a minimum of five minutes, then surveying 150 stalls will take…
750 minutes.
Divided by 60 minutes, that’s…
12 hours and 30 minutes…
And if the number of stalls has indeed increased… oh, for crying out loud.
“Um, Bliss? Can I ask you something?”
“Yes? What is it?” Bliss answered with her usual bright smile.
I suppressed my trembling voice and asked, “Are we going to conduct the entire investigation using this method?”
“Of course,” she replied with a cheerful nod.
“And… what happens after we finish questioning all the merchants?”
“Oh, then we’ll start asking the passing residents,” she said casually.
‘Wait, so it doesn’t end with the merchants…?’
I felt my mind going blank.
“Are we conducting the investigation this way in the other areas as well?”
“Yes, most of the areas are being surveyed in a similar manner. Unless we directly ask people, we won’t know what they’re thinking.”
So, they’re literally questioning everyone, one by one, even in the other areas?
I’ve always suspected it, but the Church of Origin is absolutely insane.
“Haha… got it,” I said weakly.
“Do you have any more questions?”
“No… Let’s just keep going,” I replied, defeated.
“Alright!” Bliss replied enthusiastically and led the way to the next stall.
As she walked ahead, I glanced around.
The market was bustling with people, with countless stalls lining the streets. The air was filled with the sounds of daily life, and the vibrant atmosphere seemed to touch every corner of the place.
It was a market full of life.
And yet, as I took it all in, my expression grew lifeless.
I was doomed.
A Memory
“Your parents… let’s see… Oh, that’s right. They’ve gone on a little trip.”
This is my earliest memory.
The speaker was the headmistress of the orphanage where I lived at the time. Her awkward smile and conflicted expression as she spoke to me remain vivid in my mind.
“They’ve gone on a trip,” she said.
I was young then—too young to understand language properly, capable of only the simplest words.
I could have believed her.
But even as a child, I instinctively sensed the truth hidden behind her words.
Was it the human ability to perceive context? Or the unintentional honesty that slips out through one’s tone despite attempts to hide it?
Whatever the reason, it was clear that her words didn’t signify anything good.
I would’ve been better off not knowing.
But this cursed thing called “intuition” made ignorance impossible.
Even as a young child, I grasped the reality she tried to obscure: my parents weren’t on a trip.
Looking back now, it’s obvious. What kind of parents leave their child at an orphanage to go on a trip?
In hindsight, I can understand their situation. With a mature mind and the benefit of hindsight, I can piece together what circumstances must have driven them to leave me.
But back then, I couldn’t.
As a child, I lacked the mental capacity to process my situation, even though I had no choice but to face it.
The gap between what my mind could handle and the reality I had to endure was too vast.
If only I had been able to bridge that gap…
But the bridge called “experience” only forms over time.
So, I had no choice but to accept it.
I had been abandoned.
The realization hit me like a nail hammered into my chest—a wordless pain, too overwhelming for my young self to articulate.
I was a discarded child. And then I was picked up.
That became my identity, the words that defined me.
I had been abandoned.
The wound left by that truth was profound.
I couldn’t form close bonds with anyone. The fear of being abandoned again—of enduring the same pain—made me push away every hand extended to me.
So, I rejected everyone.
And I became alone.
But then, there was Aelia.
She kept reaching out to me, even as I cowered, trying to hide and silence myself.
Anyone else would’ve given up long before, but not Aelia.
Her persistence eventually reached me, her light breaking through the darkness that enveloped me.
She changed me, leading me from the shadows into the light.
Aelia.
Before she was the Saint of Healing, she was my saint.
She was everything to me.
When I think of her, I remember how she always helped others.
Helping people was her joy. She would talk to the lonely, lend a hand to those in need, and heal the injured with her power.
She was the embodiment of sainthood—perfect in every way.
She especially valued aiding the impoverished. Wherever she went, she sought out the most downtrodden places to offer help, spreading hope to those who believed they’d been forsaken by the gods.
I recall the times I accompanied her to slums like the one we’ll be investigating now.
In those moments, she would always lead the way while I followed close behind, ready to protect her. She often hummed as she walked through the bleak streets. Even though it was just a melody without clear lyrics, it was enough to lift the atmosphere of the place.
Just like now.
It almost felt like I could hear her humming again. As always, I scanned my surroundings, searching for her.
And then I saw her.
She was behind me, at a slight distance.
Waving at me, she smiled, pointing toward something beside her as if to indicate where we should go next.
With her other hand, she gestured for me to hurry.
It was a familiar scene, one I had witnessed countless times before.
I needed to move quickly. A faint smile formed on my lips as I began walking.
If I didn’t get to her quickly, it would be troublesome. She’d tease me all day, saying something like, “Oh dear, have you failed as a protector, Hero?” with that mischievous yet endearing smile of hers.
As I quickened my pace, she started to speak, seemingly unable to wait.
That’s just like her—our saintess, too impatient to even wait for me.
I tried to predict what she would say. In situations like this, she’d usually call my name loudly and—
“Dane! Snap out of it!”
“Huh?”
I turned my head toward the voice, startled. It was Agnes, and she was staring at me with an unusually stiff expression.
I was puzzled. Why was she looking at me like that?
Before I could process it, she asked, “Dane, where are you trying to go?”
Her question baffled me. What kind of question was that?
I responded, slightly irritated, “I’m going to Aelia, of course.”
“What are you talking about, Dane?”
“What do you mean? Aelia called me, so I’m going to her. What’s the problem?”
My answer was matter-of-fact, but Agnes’s expression hardened even more.
“Aelia is calling you?” she asked cautiously.
“Can’t you hear it? She’s calling for me right now,” I said, pointing in Aelia’s direction.
But as I turned to look where I was pointing, I froze.
“See? She’s—wait, what?”
There was no one there.
Why?
Confused, I tried to make sense of the situation. Could it be that she’d grown tired of waiting and left?
I hurried to where she’d been standing and looked in the direction she had been pointing, hoping to follow her.
But when I reached the spot, I was met with a devastating sight.
“A wall…?”
Instead of a path, there was only a wall.
“Dane, Aelia is no longer here,” Agnes said gently, her voice tinged with concern as she followed behind me.
Her words pulled me back to reality.
Was it an illusion?
I couldn’t believe it. The humming I had heard moments ago, her figure so vividly before my eyes—it all seemed so real.
And yet, I had no choice but to accept the truth.
“Yes… that’s right,” I muttered bitterly.
The harsh reality set in.
“We’re about to enter the heart of the slums. You need to stay focused, Dane. Anything could happen here,” Agnes said firmly.
“Understood,” I replied quietly, my gaze lingering on the wall.
For a fleeting moment, I wondered: if I were to break through this wall, might she be waiting for me on the other side?
My hand instinctively reached for the hilt of my sword, though I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the desperate hope to cling to even the faintest possibility.
If I wanted to, I could destroy this wall and check.
But after staring at the wall for a moment, I turned away and said to Agnes, “Let’s go.”
I wouldn’t break the wall.
There were many reasons. Destroying it would be pointless, and needless destruction wasn’t something a hero should indulge in.
But the real reason was simpler.
If I were to break the wall and find nothing on the other side, my heart would shatter all over again.
It was a primal, self-preserving instinct—an attempt to shield myself from more pain.
That was all.
I started walking toward the slums.
“So, this is the slum area,” Agnes remarked as we entered.
I glanced around, taking in our surroundings.
This was the slum district on the outskirts of Viln.
It’s cleaner than I expected, I thought, puzzled.
Unlike the stereotypical image of a slum, this area wasn’t filled with crumbling buildings or filthy streets. It looked more like a regular residential district at a glance.
However…
“The atmosphere certainly isn’t good,” Agnes noted.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied.
It was unnervingly quiet.
A city street should be filled with the sounds of daily life, yet this place was eerily silent.
“There’s hardly anyone out,” I observed.
Desolate. The word perfectly captured the scene before us. It was a stark contrast to the bustling central area we had visited yesterday, and the disparity felt unsettling.
But it wasn’t that there were no people at all.
“Dane, can you feel it?” Agnes asked.
“Yeah.”
I nodded and closed my eyes, sharpening my senses.
What I felt was akin to arrows flying toward me from all directions.
Countless gazes.
From the narrow gaps in the closed windows of the buildings, multiple eyes stared out at us.
Yes, there were people here—they just weren’t coming outside.
We continued walking. If we were to conduct our investigation, we needed to speak with the residents.
We could either knock on doors or talk to anyone we found on the streets.
Unfortunately, the first option wasn’t viable. It was clear from the hostile atmosphere that the people inside wouldn’t welcome us.
So, we kept walking, hoping to find someone wandering the streets.
Suddenly, Agnes stopped in her tracks and began looking around, sniffing the air as if searching for something.
Curious, I asked, “Agnes, what’s wrong?”
“I smell something,” she replied.
“What kind of smell?”
Agnes didn’t answer. Instead, she began walking toward the source of the smell.
Her steps led us to the entrance of a dark alleyway. The alley was so shadowed that even in broad daylight, the inside was pitch-black.
I followed and stood beside her, my expression hardening.
A faint but foul odor wafted out from the depths of the alley, carried on the wind.
At that moment, I understood what she had meant.
“This smell…”
The stench was all too familiar to me.
I recalled a place where I had encountered it before.
A place filled with the clamor of people shouting.
A place resounding with screams and cries of despair.
A place where blood splattered.
A battlefield.
And now, here in this alleyway, that faint but unmistakable scent of the battlefield lingered.
It was a smell that my body instinctively rejected.
A smell that I could never get used to.
Yes, this smell was unmistakable.
“The stench of a decaying human body.”
It was the smell of death, of a human corpse rotting.
“Indeed,” Agnes remarked, staring into the dark alleyway.
“That’s what it is.”
I, too, shifted my gaze toward the alley. Then she spoke again.
“It wasn’t that they didn’t come out—they couldn’t come out.”
With those words, she turned on her heel.
“Dane, let’s go.”
But unlike her, I couldn’t move my feet. I stood there, transfixed, staring into the depths of the alley.
Even though it was too dark to see anything, even though there was no logical reason to fixate on it, I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
“Are you thinking of checking it out?” Agnes asked, stopping after taking a few steps.
I tried to nod.
There was always a chance. Perhaps someone in danger was waiting for us in that darkness. If nothing else, if someone had died, we could at least recover their remains.
But then, she cut me off.
“Don’t.”
Her tone was firm and commanding, freezing me in place.
She spoke quietly but with conviction.
“We don’t have the time to concern ourselves with things like that. You know what happens when you involve yourself in such matters—it always leads to trouble. And besides, this sort of thing is common here.”
She wasn’t wrong. I knew full well that such occurrences were part of life in lawless zones. I knew that ignoring it was the pragmatic choice. Digging deeper would likely be meaningless.
And yet…
Her final promise held me back.
I stared blankly into the alleyway.
What had happened there? The alley remained shrouded in darkness.
After lingering for a moment, I turned away and forced my feet to move.
I had things to do.
“If someone’s in danger, of course you have to help them! That’s why God gave you this power, isn’t it?”
Her voice echoed in my mind.
Doubts churned in my heart.
What would she have done in my place?
Would she have made a different choice?
I would never know.
She wasn’t here anymore.
But one thing seemed certain.
She would have chosen differently from me.
Even though I hadn’t uncovered the source of the stench, I did come to one realization.
The head steward had mentioned that the slums now occupied more than half of Viln’s territory.
If that were true, then the bustling, vibrant life we saw yesterday in Viln was likely a privilege enjoyed by only a very small minority.
As for the rest…
They probably lived in conditions no different from here.
Leaving the dark alley behind, I headed toward the comparatively brighter streets.
But the stench lingered in my nose.
The scent of death clung to the desolate streets, haunting them with its presence.