NW CHAPTER 5

← The North Wind Blows at the Treetops

Chapter 5

The children’s physical condition was on par with mine. But I had “experience” and a “weapon,” and they were in a daze, not even grasping what was happening. Amid the children who scattered reflexively at the sound of the bell, I could see some wandering about, unable to find their way. Among them, I picked out the one who looked smallest and in the worst condition. I told my brother to wait a moment and ran over, and without a word, drove the blade into his side. The nobles watching from above exclaimed in admiration. It was just as if another beast had been born.

The child stabbed by the blade flailed his arms and begged to be saved, but for us to live, it could not be helped.

“I’ll put you out of your misery quickly,” I said, and raising the blade again, I drove it into the frail little body again and again.

And I left the limp corpse where the beast would come running.

Of course, I could not rest easy with that. I hoisted my brother onto my back and moved my trembling legs. I had to climb a nearby tree, at least. The leopard that had been running fiercely toward us caught the smell of blood and put its nose to the child’s corpse. The child, who seemed to have fainted from the shock, twitched. The beast sank its teeth into his neck. Before my eyes, blood sprayed and flesh was torn in all directions. While the now-docile beast was absorbed in its prey, I climbed the tree with my brother. My soles, smeared with semen, were slippery, and I slipped several times, but in the end I managed to climb the tree. Panting, I looked down below. The children were dying.

But we lived.

The next time, too, and the time after that, my brother and I survived. Dragged back up, violated countless times by nobles, I looked at my brother. My brother was grinning happily. He only cried when the drug ran out. Whether I should think it fortunate that my brother was always smiling happily, or look on him sorrowfully, I had no idea at all.

Countless children died by my hand. To protect my brother’s life and mine, I drove the blade into those children’s backs. I did not say I was sorry. No apology would be of any use to them. The only atonement I could offer was to drive the blade into a vital spot with as little pain as possible. When we finished our “work” and returned, the nobles competed to take us first. The master began holding auctions. As our price soared, our treatment changed as well. He adjusted the days we went out to the “festival of slaughter” to once every two or three days, and when my brother’s condition was not good, he generously said he would exempt us.

And so I spent another year with my brother.

***

My brother’s leg, the previous master said it was like that.

Clear marks of having been seared and crushed with a branding iron remained. Left unattended for a long time after it broke, the bone had set crooked, and he would have to live with that shape for the rest of his life, they said. My brother had been sorted as the lowest grade. It was because his face was not so beautiful, he had ugly scars on his body, and he was a cripple who could neither hear nor speak. And so the drug he began to eat was trash, more than half mixed with impurities. My brother soon became unable even to stand, crawling along the floor while soiling himself with excrement and urine. And all day long, he searched for the drug. He ate no food, drank no water, and only wandered about looking for the drug, causing a commotion.

I begged them to treat him, but they paid no heed. After all, my dependence was also growing severe. To obtain the drug, I could not leave this place. When I ate the drug and my mind grew hazy, the guards violated my brother, who had no market value, right before my eyes. Whether it was a dream or waking life, I think I waved both hands about and shouted countless times for them to stop.

He will die. If we stay here any longer, my brother will die.

A thought I had never had before, “We must escape!” seized my mind. But how could I shake off this strict surveillance while carrying my ailing brother? And once out, could I earn enough money to pay for my brother’s and my own drug? Countless thoughts blocked my actions. I was a coward. My only remaining blood relative was dying, and I could do nothing, only nurture the seeds of thought.

***

It was just at this time that the man came to find me.

“I’ve been watching you. I wanted to have a conversation, but the fee was too high. They said it was a bit cheaper in the daytime, so I came by, but this is no easier.”

A man who had covered his face with a black veil, showing only a straight nose and thin lips beneath it, said this. Wanting to get the business over with quickly, I undressed first. And as I approached to undress him, he laughed awkwardly and waved his hand.

“No, I came to have a conversation. Sit down for a bit.”

A conversation. There were some like him. Before the act, they would sit me down and spit out this and that sympathetic remark, scratching at my insides. They showed a clumsy sympathy without any intention of helping, disguised themselves as good people, and in the end took me. Whether they took me gently or roughly, they were nothing but beings who paid money to my master, not to me, and did violence to me.

“Don’t trample people and pretend to be good, it’s disgusting!”

I wanted to snap at him like that, but if I ruffled a guest’s temper, the sparks would fly to my brother. They had realized that directly punishing me no longer had any effect. They knew that I suffered more when they tormented my brother, and they visited my sins upon that frail child. Every time I saw my brother twisting his body and wailing, uh-uh-uh, unable even to express that it hurt, it felt as if my heart would tear apart.

Noticing that my expression was not good, the man flustered, uh, uh, choosing his words. And then, “Actually, by the order of the one I serve, I was looking for a child with ‘certain conditions.’ And you look the closest to those conditions among the children I’ve found so far,” he said, getting straight to the point. It was clearly a different kind of “conversation” from what “the previous people” had done.

“…What conditions?”

The man rummaged inside his clothes and held out a document. Seeing him twist his lips strangely, it seemed he was sure I could not read.

“First, it must be a boy of a suitable age. A child of the empire. But it must be an orphan with no ties to parents or kin. His body must be nimble, suitable for learning martial arts. He must be a boy with some brains. And a child who cannot refuse this proposal!”

He shrugged his shoulders and held the document out to me. Instead of answering this or that, I took it.

“Finding such a boy is no easy task. Just as I heard that a strange ‘festival’ was held here, I went through great trouble to get in. Indeed, it’s been a while since I’ve seen a boy this close to the ‘conditions.’” I read the words written in the document, and it was a kind of “pledge of loyalty.” Swearing loyalty to the King of Yeon, a vassal state, and vowing to carry out missions at the cost of one’s life. Of course, it was not wrong to assume that a young child doing bed-slave work in a place like this would not know how to read, but wasn’t this too sloppy?

I did not know exactly, but there were things I had picked up roughly. The nobles, while violating the slaves, would chatter among themselves about politics and such, laughing, so I had heard. The empire was currently in a state of being torn apart. Immediately after the son of the Third Imperial Consort, who monopolized the Emperor’s favor, was installed as Crown Prince, the First Prince and the Fourth Princess, who had opposed it, were executed for treason. The clever princes flattered the Emperor and his various factions and fled to the vassal states. The Third Prince, now the King of Yeon, was the same.

Yeon was a granary region, populous and rich in goods. And its land was vast, nearly as much as the directly ruled territory of the empire. It was a post he had been able to be appointed to because he had monopolized the Emperor’s favor until just before the youngest prince was installed as Crown Prince.

Was he plotting revenge against the Emperor?

Or was he simply trying to make a hole to escape through for his own safety?

“So, you mean to make me a spy?” He stammered, uh-buh-buh. Right on target.

“…I can read, you know!”

Only then did the man gulp, heh, swallowing his breath, and hurriedly snatch the document away. Too late, though.

“Damn it, I’ll get an earful again. All right, fine. I am a noble of Yeon. By the King’s command, I am looking for a spy to send to the empire. The reason I look for a young child is that even if there is a suspicion that he might be a spy, if he is someone who has been on the palace register since childhood, the blade of suspicion will be less. And that he must have no ties to kin, well, that’s not hard to understand. That he must be handsome, that his body must be nimble, that he must be clever. I won’t lie to you about any of it. There may come work where you must sell your body, and there may come a time when you are killed or subjected to interrogation so painful you wish for death. But after all, if you work in a place like this, who knows when you’ll die? Considering that, isn’t it a fair deal?” He was a man I couldn’t tell whether he was sloppy, stupid, or honest. What was certain was only that he was not a person suited to such work.

“Well, even leaving that aside, how will you get me out? If you spend money to get me out, there’s a risk my identity will be exposed, and I’m also likely to draw attention.”

“Hmm, actually, that is the final test. If you can escape from here, you have sufficient qualities as a spy…”

“……”

I stared at him blankly, dumbfounded. He scratched the back of his head. He was so clearly different from the “nobles” I had seen until now that suspicion struck me first.

“…How do I know you are a noble of Yeon? You might be a pimp who will sell us to an even worse place.”

“Oh, oh, that’s true. Should I show you some proof?”

He rummaged inside his clothes and took out a horse tally and showed it to me. Seeing four horses gleaming on it, it seemed he was a person of no small rank. But having never seen a real horse tally, how could I know whether it was genuine? I chose a more certain method. I grabbed the veil he had been wearing and whipped it off.

He must have been in his late thirties. The man looked at me for a moment with a startled face, then laughed, ha, as if he had no choice.

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