"Run?"
The question leapt out of his mouth by reflex. But his heart was already pounding. As if his body had realized first that Martin's words were true.
"The Forest Warden. Something's off about that man. You asked earlier why only you were left behind, right?"
"Yes."
The afterglow of the picture book quickly evaporated. Unease filled its place again.
"I think he's trying to sell you off somewhere. And since he's doing it on the sly, they must be a nasty bunch."
"Nasty, meaning...?"
"Probably something like slave trading. The kind the law forbids."
"What's a slave?"
It was a word he'd heard a few times. But its meaning didn't readily come to mind.
"Well... someone who has to obey their master completely. They get treated like livestock or tools."
'How's that any different from now?'
But if Martin was talking like this, it had to be different. This time, the danger was real.
"Mister. How did you find this out?"
"I got lucky. If I hadn't taken a drunk guy home late at night and then gone through the passage behind the unloading yard, I'd never have seen him. The Forest Warden."
Martin swallowed.
"The Forest Warden told us our return was delayed because of some cargo problem, see? But then I heard he wasn't actually going to the unloading yard. I thought that was strange, and then I saw him prowling around there in the middle of the night. So I hid behind some crates and watched."
"And then?"
"I waited, and there were people he was meeting in secret. Rough-looking, carrying nasty weapons. They looked like mercenaries. And those guys and the Forest Warden were going on about 'a boy with the strength of a beast,' and 'can't trust the quality of the merchandise,' and 'I'll show you myself when we settle it tomorrow.' Anyone would know they were talking about you."
"Mmm......"
After hearing that much, there was no room to think otherwise. It was sudden, but he had to move.
'I got it wrong.'
He'd hidden his strength to blend in with others. But that had been too half-hearted a choice. If he was going to hide it, he should have hidden it completely. Or else shown it, and become strong enough to protect himself.
In the end, there was no middle ground.
No, perhaps......
Perhaps he'd let his guard down.
Thinking that here he got credit for the work he did, that he was seen as special.
'It wasn't even some great reward. I was feeling safe over a few measly words of praise.'
Whatever the reason, it was an inexcusable attitude. His situation could change on a single whim of those above him.
He opened his closed eyes. Berak's gaze had grown sharper.
Seeing Berak silent, Martin seemed to have taken it another way.
"Are you that shocked?... Yeah, you would be."
Martin caught his breath for a moment and went on.
"But now isn't the time to make a move. During the day, carts and laborers keep coming and going. The guards don't leave the unloading yard either, busy inspecting cargo. If you moved in all that, you'd be spotted right away."
Berak glanced out the window. Under the bright sunlight, people's shadows bustled back and forth.
"At night, there are fewer guards. Then the patrols only cover one section at a time. But they latch it once the sun's fully down, so stay away from the iron gate."
Martin added.
"There's a pile of materials next to the side gate, right? If you circle around behind it, there's a small drainage channel. It's where the water runs off when they wash the cargo, and hardly anyone pays it any mind. Get out that way."
Berak stared at Martin.
"Martin. Why would you do this for me......?"
His lips parted a little, but the words never came. He felt he knew without asking.
Even so, something nagged strangely at a corner of his heart. He could never be the man's dead son. He knew that.
Even so.
'If he sees me that way, then I'll think of it that way too.'
In place of the father and brothers who had only scolded him and worked him to the bone. He decided to accept this man as his father, as his brother.
He steeled his heart that way. Berak hugged the book to his chest and quietly stood.
"Thank you, Mister. I'll definitely repay you someday."
Martin nodded once and said.
"Make sure you survive, Berak."
That was their farewell.
***
The darkness settling in announced that night had come.
Creak -
The old door let out a faint shriek. Berak shrank back before the sound could seep into the night air.
Holding his breath, he poked his head out. He carefully scanned the darkness. He couldn't gauge his surroundings through the small window, so he had to check quickly the moment he stepped out like this.
"Hk......"
The moment he swallowed his breath, a shadow brushed past in front of him.
It was a guard.
Not very far off. He stood with a torch, his back turned. Berak's heart pounded wildly.
Luckily, the guard didn't seem to have noticed yet. Berak crouched low and slipped straight into a side path.
Until he was fully out of sight, every step felt like walking on a knife's edge.
He wanted to run.
He wanted to dash away right this instant.
But big movements make big noises. That meant discovery.
He even suppressed his breathing. His small, light body helped. The texture of the dirt under his toes, even the breeze brushing his clothes, every nerve was on edge.
Tromp, tromp.
When he sensed someone, he hid; when he heard footsteps, he stopped. Whenever a light flickered in the distance, he pressed himself flat against a wall.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. If he was caught even once, it was over.
He couldn't loosen his muscles or ease off. He just had to keep his breathing and his footsteps perfectly in sync.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
Letters that would usually have been welcome, he just let pass this time. That was how dangerous the situation was. At the logging camp, it would have ended with a whipping, but here it was soldiers with spears.
Stopping again and again like that, he rounded the corner of a building.
Then the equipment storage he'd scoped out during the day came into view. At the bottom of the pile of materials, an axe handle poked slightly out of a half-open gap.
He sighed with relief inside. Good thing he'd slipped it out during the day. When his fingertips touched it, his heart steadied a little.
Better than empty hands. Whether for cutting wood or breaking down a door... He hoped to get through without a commotion, but if a moment came when he really had to - it was better than nothing.
But his movements became even more careful. He held the blade down with his hand in case it knocked against something and made a sound. He worried about his footprints getting deeper, too.
Every sense grew razor-sharp.
「Stealth + 1」
How much time had passed? It was hard to tell. It felt like he'd been at it a long time, and also like it was only the beginning.
At that moment.
'......!'
He heard the faint sound of water in the darkness ahead. The small drainage channel. The route Martin had told him about.
Berak caught his breath one last time and stepped into it.
***
The passage was dark. He could barely see ahead.
The fingertips he braced against the wall grew slick and wet. A musty smell stung his nose, and damp air seeped down his throat. The sound of drops falling from the ceiling echoed now and then.
But the end was drawing near. That one thought let him forget his body's fatigue.
Feeling along the wall with one hand, he kept moving forward.
'Where should I go? First, head the opposite way from the logging camp. As far as I can, somewhere with as few people as possible.'
Before long, moonlight lit the way ahead. Berak let out a breath and slipped out of the narrow passage. The cold night air brushed his face. Ahead was a small clearing surrounded by stone walls and piles of lumber.
A far corner on the outskirts of the unloading yard where scrap materials were piled. It looked like a place people rarely came.
And then—.
"Berak."
A voice cut through the darkness.
He barely held back the scream half out of his throat. It was a voice that should never have been heard here.
When he hurriedly raised his head, people already had him surrounded.
A merchant in a silk vest, and five armed men standing behind him. And on top of that, the Forest Warden.
"Indeed."
The Forest Warden nodded.
"Greasing the guards' palms paid off."
The merchant shrugged.
"Even so, I didn't really think he would. Running off the moment the serfs beside him were gone, he's a yellow sprout after all, no promise in him. Seems there's a defect in his character, too."
The Forest Warden's brow furrowed.
"I heard that once the binding magic tool is on him, he'll obey absolutely anyway. If you're thinking of using that to knock down the price......"
"Ah, ah, nothing like that."
The merchant waved his hand.
"But your word had better be right. The magic tool doesn't come cheap, so we don't use it unless the slave is of upper-middle quality or better."
"Hmph, you needn't worry about that."
Only then did the merchant's gaze move to Berak.
"What a dumbstruck face, kid."
He sneered.
"We knew from the moment you came out, boy. The guard signaled us."
The image of the guard standing with his back turned flashed through Berak's mind. He'd gone through all that trouble afterward, but in truth he'd been caught from the very start.
"You didn't catch me on purpose? But why bother?"
The merchant snorted.
"From the look of you, you came out through the drainage channel. Thought you'd found a secret passage all on your own, didn't you? But warehouses and the wall block off this whole area. In the end, this is the only way out to the outskirts."
At that, one of the mercenaries snickered.
"Why bother explaining it all in such detail?"
"Heh heh... Watching a face fill with despair right before it's sold into slavery is a little pleasure of mine."
Berak's hand tightened. The faces surrounding the clearing blurred.
Holding it in. Enduring. Reading the room.
All of it was far too familiar to him.
He'd gained his ability by chance, but he had stood tall only once. That time he'd talked back to his brother.
But.
There were moments when that wouldn't do. There were walls that could never be broken through that way.
Reality was driving him toward that one moment he could no longer avoid.
Only one way remained.
To see those before him as enemies.
And to fight.
"Every time I see you alone, you seem to have an axe in your hand."
It was the Forest Warden. Even here, his tone was overbearing. As if he'd done nothing wrong at all, even as he tried to sell off Berak's entire life.
"Put it down. Now."
Berak lowered his head for a moment. A small mutter slipped out.
"......me around."
"What?"
Something that could only show itself in one's manner, in one's habits. Yet something hard to spot while it was held down. But once one decided to stop reading the room and act as one pleased, it finally showed plainly. A nature that didn't react at all to others' eyes or to rank.
Berak raised his head and adjusted his grip on the axe.
"Don't order me around!"
It was the manifestation of [Refinement: 0].
The Forest Warden seemed lost for words for a moment. Then he let out a hollow laugh.
"You've lost your mind. A mere serf...!"
Beside him, the merchant clicked his tongue.
"This is way past rebellion, he's a stark raving lunatic. Even with the Ring of Binding on, his skull has to be in working order to be any use."
"You shut up too! You filthy bastard!"
At Berak's shout, the merchant's face twisted in an instant.
"Wh...... What are you yapping about?!"
"Are those ears just for show? You heard me loud and clear. Filthy bastard."
At the unhesitating retort, the merchant trembled and jabbed a finger at him.
"Th... That little bastard! Grab him! Grab him and bring him here right now!"
Then he added, grinding his teeth.
"Don't hurt him! He's merchandise, for now."
The mercenaries drew their weapons. The Forest Warden glanced their way and spat out.
"Be careful. That strength of his is no ordinary thing."
"Ha!"
The mercenaries didn't look like they were listening at all.
"If being a little strong was enough to take us on, we'd have to quit the mercenary business."
"I didn't get it from the start. No need for five of us to come just to catch one little bastard."
Exchanging glances, they slowly tightened the circle.
Berak silently raised the axe. He had never cut a person with it. But his fingertips remembered. The weight, the vibration, the force held within.
Only, until now, he'd never used that force to its limit.
But now -
There was no longer any reason to hide it.