Why was Daren lying in the middle of the road like a puppy rolling in a mud puddle?
To explain that, we have to go back to this morning for a moment.
At Albion's excessive words and deeds, the two pitiful bandits were robbed of all the money they had without so much as opening their mouths. It amounted to just one large silver coin and a few copper coins, but that was enough to rent the barn of a small farmhouse and give the owner a token of thanks.
Having shoved the bandits inside and sat by the door, Albion combed out his tangled hair and opened his mouth.
-Eli. I'm going to sleep now, so don't wake me tomorrow.
-Don't wake you?
-You heard me. I sleep pretty long, see? Even if you wake me I won't get up, so don't waste your strength, is what I'm saying. When it's light, tell those people to carry me on their backs. Move me yourselves even if I'm sleeping.
-Will that really be all right?
Albion's habit of sleeping unusually long and deep was something he already knew, so it wasn't surprising. What Erman worried about was something else. Would those people listen to the words of him, a mere child?
They were people made meek out of fear because Albion had cast magic, so what if Albion, who had cast the magic, fell asleep? What if those adults got bad ideas in the meantime? Could he stop them?
Erman fidgeted his fingers. Albion spotted that uncannily and clicked his tongue.
-If they try to dump me, or you see anything suspicious at all, tell them 'If you don't want to die in five hours, behave.'
-Five hours? Yesterday you clearly said twenty hours.
-So what? It's up to me.
Albion stretched long and flopped down on the straw. When he closed his eyes, it really seemed he meant to leave Erman be and sleep soundly.
So when dawn broke, Pidrin carried the limp Albion on her back, and they set out with Daren on the road to Tintagel. Up to there, there had been no problem at all.
But from some point on, Daren began stealing glances, then plopped right down in the middle of the road and started bawling at the top of his lungs that he couldn't go any farther.
"Oh no! Oh no, my stomach hurts so much, what do I do?! I can't walk another step! Is it because of the magic cast on me yesterday?! Oh nooo! My stomach!"
Daren clutched his belly, rolling on the dirt, and glanced at Erman, who was at a loss.
Daren hadn't just been dragged around by two damned little kids yesterday. Looks aside, he'd made a living on his wits alone, and in his own way he had worked out the kids' relationship.
The ivory-haired brat— his name was Albion or something, it seemed that guy held the initiative, but right now that guy was snoring away on Pidrin's back.
Then he only had to fool that timid-looking guy for a moment. If he played it well, couldn't he even get the drop dead magic or whatever lifted?
With that calculation Daren had lain down, and raising his voice, he began making even more dying sounds.
"I'm dying! I'm dying! My stomach, my stomach feels ready to burst!"
"Wh, what do I do? Does it hurt a lot? Is it because of that piece Albion fed you yesterday? Is it so bad you can't even stand?"
Watching Erman fret, a sly smile flitted across Daren's face for just a moment. He crawled over and hung on to Erman's pant leg.
"Ooh ooh ooh, ah ah ah ah! Do something, please, milord! I'll take you to this Tintagel place or whatever!"
"But Albion said I mustn't carelessly heal you."
"Is it because of what happened the other time? We just lost our heads because it's so hard to make a living. I'll live honestly from now on, so let it go just this once, eh? I'll help the poor and wash my hands clean of banditry! Juuust one time!"
"But......"
A grown man flat on his face before a twelve-year-old was quite an ugly sight, but Daren couldn't care less.
Once that piece of wood in his belly was gone, he'd sell this little brat off to the slave market on the spot. Harboring that dark thought, Daren teared up, and Erman, looking down at him, finally let out a heavy sigh.
"......It can't be helped. This is a secret from Albion."
"You're lifting the magic? Really? Oh, milord! Young milord, how can you be so kind and good? You'll be blessed! Thank you, thank you!"
"First...... lie down. Straighten yourself out."
"Yes!"
This young wretch. Naive beyond compare. Smirking, Daren lay down on the ground. With his hands laced over his chest, he quietly closed his eyes.
Erman, with a careful face, rolled up Daren's yellowed top himself, then drew the short sword from its scabbard. At the sharp sound, Daren immediately bugged out his eyes.
"Milord? What's that?"
"A sword. A short sword."
"No, I know that. But why are you, right now......?"
"You asked me to lift the magic, did you not?"
Erman tilted his head.
"Albion fed you a cursed object, did he not? So we must pull out what's in your belly."
"What?"
"Ah, have no worry. I'll ask Albion to treat you when he wakes. Albion is a truly great mage, so even if you bleed a little, he may heal you right away."
"Huh?"
"Grit your teeth. It may hurt a little."
Erman patted Daren's stiffened belly with a kind hand. Daren's pupils began to shake wildly.
He'd gotten caught by some strange guys, caught badly wrong, by a long way.
***
How might the AI NPCs be moving in the game by now? Is Erman heading safely to Tintagel?
The green old station roof, Seoul Station Plaza's trademark, was as it had always been. Many things had changed, but a place standing on the border between the modern era and the latest things of the 2030s was still strange.
A 100-meter interactive ad board set in the ground along the sidewalk, police drones circling 10 meters up to catch illegal parking, a shabby No Homeless Entry warning sign, a media facade blooming with hanbok and traditional patterns along with the slogan 'I Seoul, U Korea.'
I scanned my surroundings from a corner of the plaza, where dozens of people mixed and scattered every second. Today was Sunday, and the current time was 11:57. Only 3 minutes left until the appointed noon.
The tipster had pushed and I'd ended up meeting them in a daze, but I had no information apart from the place being here. Not even what clothes the tipster would be wearing or what café exactly they'd be sitting in.
Might they contact me right before? As I gripped my phone and watched people, my gaze suddenly drifted naturally to one spot.
"What's that?"
It wasn't just me. Other passersby were stealing glances that way too.
A single woman staggering through the crowd, coming this way. That alone was ordinary, but the problem was what was on her head.
A crinkled hat that looked like it was made of crumpled aluminum foil.
The foil, gleaming even under the cloudy sun, stopped in its place. The woman, hesitating, rummaged through her bag and,
-Vrrrrm.
......made a call.
And exactly 2 seconds later, the phone in my hand buzzed again and again. Even looking at the number plainly on the screen, I simply couldn't answer.
No. Please no. Tell me no!
Right before I started looking for a god I normally don't believe in, my eyes met those of the foil-hat woman through the crowd. She looked at me for a moment and walked straight this way, and, unable even to run away, I had to meet her as she approached like a disaster.
How on earth did she recognize me?
"H, hello...... there."
"You didn't answer the phone."
"Excuse me? Ah. I'm sorry. That was just."
"No, you did well. Calls are tapped anyway. More importantly, let's move. There are too many eyes watching here."
"You mean there are a lot of people? If you insist, shall we go into a nearby café?"
"Not that, there."
Where the woman pointed, an illegal-parking surveillance drone was flying. Above it was a public CCTV warning sign.
"We're being watched, you see."
Is she perhaps a crazy person?
Being dragged off by the foil-hat woman, I seriously considered the timing for running away.
When I came to my senses, we were inside the Gyeongui Line platform of the old station. In the deserted place without a single person, the woman, looking at the empty tracks, opened her mouth.
"You must be wondering why I'm doing this."
"Yeees."
"I ended up playing the game too. Brigantes Chronicle, that one."
My hand, about to take a cigarette pack from my back pocket, paused for a moment. Brigantes Chronicle. Goldrish Games. The vanished missing. The common factor. Goldcrest.
"You ended up playing the game, so you're wearing a foil hat."
"It was the only way to block brainwave control. My younger sister's already gone, and if I disappear too, no one will be left to dig into this case."
What's she saying?
"Was your sister a Brigantes Chronicle player?"
"Yes. She always liked games. I'm the one who bought her the Goldrish Games connected lenses too. About 8 years ago, to celebrate finishing the college entrance exam. Virtual reality games were all the rage back then, right?"
"I'm not really the type to play games. Still, I do remember the noise back then about new game regulation bills and such."
"I often told my sister not to play games for too long. Still, it was her hobby, so I didn't mind much. When my sister went to university she started living on her own, and working part-time too, and she seemed to collect this game and that one by one."
"And Brigantes Chronicle along with them?"
"I think so. Once I went to her place and she let me play, so I played for a bit too. I get motion sick so I couldn't play long and quit right away."
8 years ago, huh.
Brigantes Chronicle came out 13 years ago. So when this person's sister bought the game...... it would have been about 6 or 7 years after release.
"I read what you sent in carefully. But don't you think it's too much of a stretch to connect a game called Brigantes Chronicle with disappearances over the last 3 years? The time gap is too long."
"I think so too. But there's a reason I concluded the game is the cause."
"A reason?"
She hesitated for a moment, then took out her phone and opened a messenger app.
"Because my sister started getting a little strange, even before she went missing."