章節 4: The beginning after the end

It had been a day or two—perhaps longer—the boy couldn't recall. He sat propped inside a makeshift tent, his body swathed in ointments and bandages that clung to his skin, holding it together as though it might fall apart at any moment. The agony was unrelenting, a sensation as cruel as being burned alive. But worse than the pain was the emptiness: the boy couldn't remember why he was there, nor who he had been before.

A group of people had arrived, calling themselves Hunters. He overheard their purpose—they were there to ensure something—but what that was, he couldn't grasp. His curiosity was smothered by the searing pain coursing through him, and he stayed silent, even as nurses and doctors came and went, their hands cool and impersonal, their words offering no solace.

"—A beast could've done this—"

"—Scares me to death—"

"—Could return and be dangerous for—"

The whispers drifted in and out of his consciousness like scraps of wind, never lingering long enough to make sense. Then, the rustle of the tent's entrance pulled his attention. The cloth parted, and a group stepped in: the doctor and several others dressed in leather armor and clothes fashioned from animal skins. They moved carefully, their faces marked by quiet deliberation as they took seats around him.

The doctor spoke first. Her voice was soft, but it carried an edge of gravity. "Are you feeling alright now?"

The boy shook his head—no. He wouldn't lie; the agony was all-consuming. But he remained calm, his face betraying none of the fire beneath his skin. The doctor smiled, a fragile warmth against the tension in the air.

"You're a very strong boy," she said gently. "Not many people could stay calm like this. Now, you're going to be alright. But we need you to be honest with us—can you do that? Whatever you remember, no matter how small, it will help. And if you answer truthfully, these people here can help you recover, alright?"

He nodded, his response as innocent as it was uncertain.

One of the others leaned forward. A woman with an eyepatch and a face scarred beyond recognition, her dark purple coat and greenish-grey pants contrasting sharply against the tent's muted surroundings. Her gaze was cold, unreadable, as though she had long since abandoned the luxury of emotions.

"Was this village attacked by a beast?" she asked, her voice as sharp and unyielding as steel.

The boy hesitated. His memories were a fog, an empty void he couldn't navigate. "I… I do not remember anything," he admitted softly, his words trembling. "I only remember… someone. Someone asking me a question. An answer they wanted… but I can't remember what it was."

His face fell. "I apologize," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"If you don't know, it's fine," the woman said, her voice gruff as she let out a sigh, scratching her head. With a glance at the others, she rose to her feet. "Not that we can do anything about it. Send him to the orphanage." Her tone was dismissive, almost impatient, as though there were nothing more to be wrung from the boy's battered state. "Begin preparations. We're getting off. Send him back with the carriages, and we'll follow the beast's trail."

With that, the group filtered out of the tent, leaving behind only the doctor. Her face betrayed her, guilt heavy on her features as she hesitated, torn between duty and something deeper. The boy tilted his head at her in quiet curiosity, but she couldn't meet his eyes. Her lips quivered as though words were trying to escape, but instead, she turned and walked out, her shoulders slumping.

The boy was left alone again—alone except for it.

An amalgamation stood before him, something that defied reason and clawed at the edges of the mind, a shape not meant to be perceived. It loomed in the air, silent, invisible to all but him. His hands trembled as the burning sensation coursed through them, yet he reached out, desperate to touch it, to confirm its reality. His fingers passed through the vision, meeting nothing but empty air.

"Wh-What?" he stammered, his voice cracking with confusion and a flicker of fear. The figure dissolved like mist, leaving him alone once more, staring at the void it left behind.

The flap of the tent opened again, and the doctor returned, her expression strained, her smile something close to guilty. She sat down heavily, her hands clasped together as though to steady herself.

"I have something to tell you," she began, her voice soft but deliberate. She took a deep breath, weighing her words before continuing. "We're going to give you two options. You can choose either, but please… choose well."

The boy sat up slightly, his eyes narrowing in quiet curiosity.

"We can send you to the orphanage in the capital," she explained. "There, you'll live peacefully. Someday, maybe, if you're talented or lucky enough, some parents might take you into their home." She paused, as if to let the weight of that life settle.

"Or," she sighed, her hesitation stretching the moment thin, "you can come with me. I can treat you. I can give you a good place to live. But," her voice lowered, "there will be dangers. Situations like the one you faced in the village. You'll have to be strong, braver than most."

The boy was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curled into a small smile. "Will I get those sweet things you gave me this morning?"

The doctor blinked, startled, before a genuine laugh bubbled out of her. She tried to hide it behind her hands but failed, her chuckle warm and unrestrained.

"Yes," she replied, her voice lighter now, tinged with amusement. "Yes, there will be many treats—better than what you ate today."

"Then I will come with you," the boy said, flashing a small, toothy grin.

The doctor returned the smile with equal warmth, nodding. "Then we need to get you better first," she replied, determination sparking in her voice.

The following eight hours stretched long and grueling, from afternoon into dusk. The doctor worked tirelessly to tend to the boy, applying potions like lotion to his raw, wounded skin. Some of the mixtures carried foul odors that turned even her stomach, but they worked, slowly easing the boy's pain. When it came time for the pill—a bitter, stinking concoction—he clamped his nose shut and swallowed it whole without complaint, earning a smile of approval from her. Little by little, his melting skin began to heal, settling into a livable state. His trembling limbs grew still at last, and the doctor finally allowed herself a moment to rest, though exhaustion weighed heavily on her.

As the camp dismantled around them and the tent he rested in was packed away, someone roused the doctor from her brief nap. She stirred groggily, blinking against the fading light of evening.

"You taking the kid? Think about it again?" the woman with the eye patch asked, eyeing both the doctor and the boy skeptically.

"Yes!" the doctor said, her reply full of resolve as she nodded energetically. The woman only shrugged, muttering something inaudible before retreating to her own carriage, letting the curtain fall closed behind her.

The boy reached out and took the doctor's hand, his grip small but firm. Together, they climbed into one of the carriages at the rear of the convoy. "We'll be going to the capital," she said, grinning. "To my home."

The boy nodded enthusiastically, his spirits seemingly lifted despite the ordeal he had endured. The carriage rolled forward, creaking as it joined the others on the dirt road. Before long, the convoy came to a halt, and a flurry of voices and movement surrounded them.

The doctor leaned out briefly, exchanging words with the others before turning back to the boy.

"She picked up a kid?" one voice muttered from outside.

"You can't just pick up a kid like a stray puppy," another grumbled. "How will you maintain him?"

"He still looks like he's hurt," a third observed, quieter but no less doubtful.

The doctor shot the boy a reassuring smile and shrugged off the comments. Before they could climb too far into his head, a man dressed in unremarkable clothes—his dark hair messy, his equally dark eyes sharp—leaned into the carriage.

"Ignore them," he said, his tone kind but brisk. He addressed the boy directly, a faint smile softening his features. "You've come a long way from that village. Will you be alright in the city?"

"Yes," the boy replied confidently. "If the doctor is there, I won't have any problems."

"Is that so?" The man chuckled, amused by the boy's straightforward answer. "Well, that's good to hear." He extended a hand halfway before catching himself. "You're still injured, so no need to shake hands just yet. But next time, make sure you do. And when that time comes, tell me your name."

The boy tilted his head, curious.

"I'm Aldric," the man said, winking as he leaned back. "Next time, I'll be waiting to hear yours."