Chapter 65

There exists an invisible line in words and actions—one that must not be crossed.

Those who have long known of its existence never touch it, while those who are ignorant stumble right over it. Yet, those in the know hate even speaking of the line’s existence; they refuse to teach others about it, but they never fail to show blatant displeasure toward anyone who accidentally brushes against it.

They only speak up when it is far too late. Because they ignore the things they don’t want touched, people who touch them recklessly never disappear. Then, they hint at its existence to the transgressor, dragging them into a sort of discriminatory community.

Some know the reason, others do not. As a result, only the subconscious awareness that “this must not be touched” spreads like a contagion, and the formality of it survives with stubborn tenacity.

As long as they hold that consciousness, the ideology never sleeps.

The fact that it remains unspoken, paradoxically, encourages its survival.

The “don’t wake a sleeping child” theory often cited in issues of discrimination is, in the end, a completely meaningless theory that does nothing but validate the status quo.

—The knights who reached the village in search of the missing Busse would finally learn of this “invisible line” through the process of their inquiries.

…With the exception of one person who already knew a bit of the circumstances.

Through Pero’s tracking, it was determined that Busse was likely somewhere near the village. Thus, Akina and the others began questioning the people of Isberg, asking if they had any idea where Busse might have gone. However, what they discovered instead was the boy’s peculiar standing within this village.

“…How was it, Bevion? Did you hear anything?”

“It’s hopeless. The moment they hear Busse’s name, everyone clams up with a sour look on their face. Some people looked downright disgusted. What is wrong with this village…?”

As a lover of children, the questioning must have been agonizing for Bevion. From grown adults to other kids, they were all blatantly avoiding Busse, a child who should have been under their protection. To someone like him, who cherished children, this was an unacceptable reality.

Meanwhile, Senega shrugged and let out a sigh, seemingly having failed to gain any useful leads herself.

“Much the same on my end. Sadly, even though I tried playing up my charms a bit, these rural family men have very high guards.”

“Why do you keep doing stuff like that, Senior?! And specifically with married men?!”

Setting aside Senega’s lack of restraint in using her “feminine weapons,” the three couldn’t hide their confusion. They never expected that the villagers, who had seemed cooperative until now, would close their mouths so tightly the moment a certain line was crossed.

As Caliban recalled, the villagers had clearly kept their distance from the boy.

‘About Busse? …I don’t know. Don’t go asking us.’

‘I don’t know anything about that kid. I doubt most people in the village even know where his house is, right? It’s none of your business as outsiders, so just leave it alone.’

‘Listen, my mommy and daddy said I’m not allowed to be with Busse! So I don’t know a single thing about him!’

‘I don’t know why you’re looking for him, but give it a rest. I don’t know much either, but I heard his family has a history. Who did I hear that from? …If I told you that, I’d be the one getting in trouble.’

Blatant, conscious indifference—or perhaps, loathing.

Why that seemingly honest and boyishly charming youth was treated this way in the village was something the knights, who had only met him recently, weren’t even permitted to investigate. Half the houses they visited gave them a fake smile and said they didn’t know; the rest were met with a rejection of ignorance that was essentially a door slammed in their faces.

He wasn’t necessarily hated by everyone, but no one intended to get involved with him.

That village sentiment was reflected in their forced expressions and tones of voice.

“This is a problem… According to Pero’s nose, the scent is coming from the back of the village, but without a guide or even a rough idea of where to look, this is going to be a real pain.”

“The snow has stopped, but it’s piled even deeper toward the back. We only made it this far from the motive carriage easily thanks to the villagers clearing the paths,” Caliban grumbled.

He felt drained as he scratched Pero’s chin with his fingertips while the wolf sat obediently at his feet. Being driven out for scouting every day, he was already thoroughly fed up with this snow, and his legs were swollen from the daily overwork. Furthermore, because Pero led the way, it was inevitably Caliban’s job to plow through the snow and forge a path—a nightmare equation of labor.

Bevion, unable to hide his shock at the villagers’ unfair treatment of a child; Senega, whose pride as a competent person was wounded by the lack of results; and Caliban all sighed simultaneously.

Suddenly, Senega realized the last of their group was missing and looked around.

“Now, where did Captain Akina go? It’s an option to leave her behind and not regroup, but we can’t exactly leave a mad dog loose in the village and risk letting her cause damage.”

“Hmm… Pero, can you track the Captain’s voice or scent?”

“Woof!”

Pero barked and turned his head, as if saying it wasn’t even worth the effort to lead them.

In the direction he pointed, Akina was currently in the middle of questioning a villager.

“Why should I have to know anything about that brat?! Go home, I don’t know a thing!!”

“He’s a kid from this village, you’ve gotta at least know where his house is, right? Just tell me~”

“Hah! Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you! I’ve been thinking he should just hurry up and leave the village anyway, so if he isn’t coming back, that’s just fine by me!!”

“………”

The middle-aged woman, an employee of one of the few shops in the village, didn’t even try to hide her disgust, speaking in a voice that was clearly audible. At the very least, Caliban and Bevion felt an irritation bordering on anger at the fact that a boy they knew was being treated so unfairly for reasons they didn’t understand.

…At the same time, they realized that Akina—whose boiling point was a hundred times lower than theirs—was listening to this, and they were struck with terror. To Akina, the woman who would punch you for insulting her and sometimes punch you even if you didn’t, a confrontational remark like that was basically the signal for a brawl.

‘Hey, isn’t this bad? Isn’t this incredibly bad?! If Captain Akina, with her zero patience, hears that kind of line…! Stop her, Bevion!’

‘I mean, sure, knights are technically higher status than commoners, but starting a violent incident here would be irreversible!!’

They weren’t about to draw their swords, but they were still two male knights, however young. Setting aside whether they could actually pull it off, the fact that they entered a combat-ready stance without hesitation was, in a way, impressive.

A moment of tension. Just as Akina, who had been eerily silent in front of the woman, slowly raised her limp hands, the two of them leaped with all the strength they could muster in their legs, acting in perfect sync.

“Captain, please handle this calmly—!!”

“Wait, don’t lay a hand on—!!”

Their hands reached out for Akina—

“Whatever. If you don’t know, just say you don’t know. I’m done here.”

—It turned out there was absolutely no need to reach for her at all. The two let out cries of “Gueh?!” and “Buhoh?!” as they both slammed face-first into the ground. It was an utterly wasted effort that resulted in minor facial injuries—a terrible trade-off. To make matters worse, the coldness of the ground only amplified their misery.

‘Well… I guess that’s just like her, in a way? Senior Varna did say she’s ‘completely indifferent to things she doesn’t care about.’’

‘So her sloppy personality actually worked out for once…?’

It seemed that even she, famous for being a rowdy and violent knight, wasn’t necessarily a believer in violence as the first resort.

Contrary to their frantic imaginations, Captain Akina had simply brushed the woman off with a look of surprising coldness. Holding their stinging faces, the two felt internally relieved. She had a foul mouth, but as long as it didn’t turn into a physical altercation, it shouldn’t become a major problem.

…Or so they thought. Unlike Senega, who had decided to be a bystander from the start, the two of them were being far too optimistic.

“Tch, what a waste of space… You live in the same village and know the kid’s name, but you don’t know where he lives? You’re an idiot. Man, I wasted my time talking to you.”

“Wh… ah…!?”

‘She said it…!’

‘She actually said it right to her face…!’

The words weren’t born of rage; they were a natural explosion of rudeness that leaked out effortlessly. The middle-aged woman, who had been so vocal in her rejection of Busse until a moment ago, turned beet red and began gasping, her mouth hanging open as she struggled to find words.

She likely never imagined such a comeback. No one expects to be insulted quite that naturally, though in a way, it was probably karma.

‘…Sorry, Caliban. Internally, I was kind of thinking, ‘Take that, you old hag.’’

‘I think you’re allowed to think that. It’s bad for a knight to think it, though.’

Generally speaking, it’s quite arrogant to insult others and expect not to be insulted in return. Even if an action is permitted within a specific community, it doesn’t change the nature of the act itself. Perhaps that woman lacked that basic self-awareness.

Without a hint of sarcasm or guilt, Akina scratched her backside and muttered a half-hearted “Later,” as she walked toward the group. Her behavior was a masterclass in irritating an opponent right down to her final gesture, but the terrifying thing was that it wasn’t an act.

As for Senega, who had been watching from the sidelines, she approached the woman—who was currently frozen in a whirlwind of directionless emotions—to offer a “follow-up” on Akina’s behalf.

“I am terribly sorry. Our Akina has a particularly foul mouth even among knights, and she simply cannot lie to herself. I’ll make sure she stays as far away from the village as possible from now on…”

“Hey, Senega! Stop talking to that useless person and let’s go! Seriously, what a waste of time stopping by Isberg Village. Everyone lives right here and they know even less about Busse than I do. That kid should just give up on this village already…”

Plack. The faces of the two knights plowed into the ground once more. Her words were a concentrated dose of every possible way to offend someone; they were beyond the point of being smoothed over.

Faced with a barrage of further insults, the middle-aged woman’s emotions finally overheated, and she raised a shaking fist in rage, though she seemed so overwhelmed that she didn’t know how to express it.

“…!! …!!”

“Well, just consider this a streak of bad luck and give up.”

Senega, perhaps knowing things would play out this way, didn’t press the matter and cut the conversation short before returning.

Was there anyone else in the world who, despite being a grown adult, said whatever they wanted without a single thought for other people’s circumstances? The “Gorilla Captain,” who was fatally lacking in skills like social etiquette or tact, frowned in confusion at the two rookies sprawled on the ground.

“What are you two doing? Some kind of ritual?”

“It’s ‘Kowtow’ (Gotai-tochi). It’s a ritual from the East, said to be the most respectful way to honor someone.”

“Hmph. I guess you finally realized how great I am! But I’m in a hurry, so stop wasting time and get up already!”

Tripping for her sake, falling because of her, and then being insulted by her.

For a while, Caliban and Bevion were tormented by an unidentifiable sense of defeat and a feeling that the world was simply unfair. Furthermore, there were witness reports that Pero’s gaze toward Caliban became strangely pitying for a while afterward, though the truth of that remains unconfirmed.

One hour later, after plowing through the deep snow, the group of four and one animal discovered a single house at the far edge of the village.