Beggar

"Therefore, Baudrillard argues that 'objects' and 'needs' are merely false symbols. He critiques Marx's theory of use-value, believing the latter also fell into the trap of capitalist political economy, and thus proposes his own symbolic political economy."

Wu Qiren finished his presentation, clicked to the final slide, nodded in thanks to his teacher and the dozen or so students, and left the podium at the teacher's signal to wait for the next student's report.

"Tales!"

The next moment, the former graduate student Wu Qiren woke from his dream.

He was curled up in a cold, dilapidated wall cavity, feeling the icy wind blowing through gaps from all directions.

Wu Qiren sighed. It had been five years since he transmigrated, yet he still dreamt of his past life.

Life before the transmigration may have been boring, but it was far better than his current miserable circumstances.

"Tales, hey, Tales!"

A large hand reached in from outside the wall cavity, grabbed Wu Qiren by the ear, and roughly dragged him out of his little hovel.

This was a ruined house. Through the half-collapsed roof, one could see the brilliant stars in the night sky, though the arrangement and shapes of the star rivers were completely unfamiliar to Wu Qiren.

Wu Qiren could not resist that rough hand: what could a seven-year-old child do?

His knees were scraped raw and stinging.

Yet he gritted his teeth, not making a sound—Quade was particularly impatient with the crying of children.

"I asked Rick; your weekly quota was five copper coins less than last week! Did you hide some?" An enraged Quade looked like a red-haired lion, his protruding nose making him appear all the more vicious.

Wu Qiren was thrown to the ground. From the corner of his gray eyes, he saw the surrounding wall cavities; the five other urchins living in the same room, ranging from four to ten years old, were all trembling at Quade's roar.

In the innermost cavity, the smallest girl with short hair was biting her left hand hard, her face flushed, looking at Wu Qiren on the ground in terror. In the cavity next to her, six-year-old Nide was so scared he even let out a whimper.

That was Colia; Wu Qiren knew what she was afraid of.

In fact, Wu Qiren had good luck this week. He, the urchin Tales—Wu Qiren's current name—had earned thirty-seven Middler Copper Coins this week, eighteen more than the week before.

But he had only turned over fourteen copper coins to Quade—the leader in charge of the urchin business for the Black Street Brotherhood—and taken the rest, along with the money he had painstakingly saved over the past two years, to the Grove Apothecary. There, he had "purchased" a dose of typhoid medicine at cost from the kind-hearted assistant, Jenny.

Tales had fed the medicine to four-year-old Colia: at her age, contracting typhoid without medicine was almost a death sentence.

In the five years since he transmigrated, Tales had re-experienced the memory-forming period from age two to seven, gradually recovering bits and pieces of his past life from the state of a confused toddler.

Among these, the memories of childhood appeared fragmented and scattered. Even so, during these five years from ignorance to clarity, every time he witnessed the death of another, it left a deep impression on Tales.

From dying of illness, falls, drowning, and hanging, to—Tales had even once seen an urchin who was crying and making a fuss suffocated to death by an ability—being beaten to death alive, the Black Street Brotherhood, which profited from human trafficking, had never had any bottom line or principles.

Even a gang needs time to settle into rules and order.

And the Brotherhood, originating from the Black Street, had only been around for a little over ten years from its rise to its current strength.

Even the Brotherhood's arch-rival, the Blood Bottle Gang, which had a ninety-year history and was known as the "aristocrats of the underworld," did not necessarily have fewer blood debts on their hands.

Most of the time, Tales was powerless when witnessing death. Even he himself had only avoided death more than once by relying on the scattered memories from his past life.

Like now, Quade, rubbing his hands together with excitement, had a cruelty and viciousness in his eyes typical of a gang sadist.

"I didn't hide anything! Winter has arrived this week, and there are far fewer people passing through the three districts of the Lower City..." Tales scrambled up from the ground, his mind racing as he spat out a fabricated excuse.

"Smack!"

He was met with a merciless slap, and Tales lost his balance, falling back to the ground.

"Hand over the hidden money, and then I'll beat you! Or I'll beat you first, and then you hand over the money! Choose!"

Clearly, Quade did not want to hear his explanation.

This Brotherhood leader might just want to scrape together some drinking money, or perhaps he was simply looking for someone to beat up.

"But of course, you can be stubborn; I love stubborn children the most." Quade grinned, working his knuckles.

Looking at the sandbag-sized fist before him, Tales knew that even if he said nothing, Quade would not let him go.

And just last month, Quade had tortured an urchin from the fifth room to death.

Tales clutched his swollen cheek, thinking rapidly.

Usually, Quade didn't manage the accounts. Since he spent his nights carousing at the Sunset Tavern in the Underground Street or wandering around with a bottle, it was hard for him to remember how many Middler Copper Coins a Mindis Silver Coin could buy, let alone how much quota his urchins had turned in—that was all handled by his deputy, the seemingly steady and reliable Rick.

And even someone as shrewd as Rick knew that a fluctuation of seven or eight copper coins in the weekly quota for each urchin was perfectly normal.

Someone had snitched.

That was the only conclusion.

Tales glanced around at the other urchins.

He had returned directly to the ruined house after begging for money from the noble lady; the children in the room must have seen it.

In such a harsh environment, children's hearts could become even more terrifying than adults imagined.

Quade kicked him again. Tales secretly used his elbows to protect his abdomen, slightly dissipating the force, and feigned unbearable pain on his face, as if he were in agony from the kick—he couldn't cry out; Quade loved the screams of children the most.

"I'll tell, I'll tell!" Fear appeared on Tales' face. "Don't hit me!"

"That depends on my mood!" Quade looked around, seeing the other five urchins cowering in terror, which satisfied him: his authority was being respected.

"On Wednesday morning, I ran into a noble lady, and she gave me nearly ten copper coins!" Tales cowered in the corner, trembling as he spoke.

"I knew it! Begging? It must have been stolen, right? No one can hide anything from me, especially a little thief like you!" Quade rubbed his palms viciously, preparing for the next round of abuse: "Hand over the money!"

Before Quade could even raise an eyebrow, Tales added:

"But I went to the Red Quarter!"

"The Red Quarter?" Quade's raised hand dropped slightly. "You went into the Blood Bottle Gang's territory?"

"Yes, we couldn't scrape together any more money in our own area." Aside from the Brotherhood's thugs, highly skilled rangers, or those with specific ulterior motives, who would be foolish enough to wander through the three ruined districts near the Black Street? Even the city guards, armed with swords and shields, were unwilling to approach this crime-ridden place.

"It was the first time I'd ever gotten that much money, and the Blood Bottle Gang didn't show up, so I thought maybe there would be another chance the next day."

"You idiot!"

Another vicious kick greeted Tales. He saw Colia flinch in the distance.

Quade cursed loudly, "The Red Quarter? In the Blood Bottle Gang's territory, where would you find such easy pickings?"

Tales cowered, trembling, "Right, the next afternoon, the Blood Bottle Gang caught me. They hung me up. I told them I was lost, but they didn't believe me. I gave them all the money, but they still wouldn't let me go."

"Trash! Then how did you escape?" Quade spat fiercely.

"Then, I said I was from the Ruined House, that I was one of Quade Roda's people, and they... they just burst out laughing."

"What?" Quade clenched his fists. He grabbed Tales by his tattered burlap collar and hauled him up from the corner. "Those damn Red Scarves, what were they laughing at?"

Tales shook his head in confusion. "I didn't quite understand... what they were saying."

Quade's face turned ferocious. "Speak!"

Tales feigned terror, trembling as he said, "There was a bald man among them..."

"A bald man?" Quade rubbed his head, remembering something.

"Spin? Baldy Spin from the West Ring District? The one who collects debts for the Red Scarves?"

"I don't know," Tales shook his head in fear.

"But the bald man said that since I was one of Quade's kids, they should spare my life, because Quade needs kids too much..."

Before Tales could finish, Quade slammed him hard against the wall!

Bang!

The beggar boy did his best to protect his head and torso, taking the impact of the wall with his back, then immediately turned his back toward Quade to receive the heavy blows of his rage.

"Son of a... you... Baldy... Spin... how did he know... kill you... kill you... trash... fool..."

Quade roared in a frenzy, kicking Tales again and again, his shouting reduced to barely distinguishable words.

Tales bit his lip hard, sensing the direction of the pain and constantly shifting the angle of his back to cushion the force of the strikes.

"Fuck you, fuck you, idiot, bastard, fuck you..."

From the holes in the wall, several children watched in terror as Tales was beaten, but they all kept their mouths tightly shut, not daring to make a sound.

Tales endured Quade's rain of kicks, yet he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Although it looked terrifying, a frenzied, enraged Quade was far safer than a Quade who enjoyed torturing children while in a good mood.

More importantly—now, Quade wouldn't ask about the money anymore.

What Tales had said was half-truth, half-lie:

He had indeed gone to the Red Quarter, but he had stayed hidden in the corner of a dark alley, cautiously observing his surroundings and keeping an eye out for the Red Scarves of the Blood Bottle Gang.

He had indeed encountered a noble Lady dressed in goose-down finery, but she was accompanied by at least twenty Terminus Swordsmen, which was why the Blood Bottle Gang hadn't interrupted him when he ran out of the alley to beg.

Tales had indeed managed to get a lot of money from that noble Lady—he certainly wasn't stupid enough to try stealing in front of twenty Terminus Swordsmen, but he had vanished into the crowd before her entourage could move too far away, and he never went back.

As for Baldy Spin, Tales had never met him; he only knew he was the head thug who collected black debts for the Blood Bottle Gang.

Quade had once been a debt-collecting thug for the Brotherhood himself—until he crossed the wrong person and had his lower body crippled. This was a piece of secret information Tales had learned while pressed against the wall of the Brotherhood's main house, listening to the assassin Layok and Belicia mocking Quade in private while they were "wrestling."

By the time Quade had vented his rage, cursing Baldy Spin of the Blood Bottle Gang while pulling a wine bottle from his chest and stumbling away with grumbles, the clothes on Tales's back were shredded, and his back was a mass of bruises.

Because Tales had deliberately turned his body to avoid direct hits to the front, some areas had even been scraped raw, and waves of pain washed over him.

As blood trickled to the ground, Tales felt a searing, burning pain.

It had been so long since he'd been beaten that he felt as if his muscles were on fire.

Ever since he transmigrated into this world, beatings, hunger, sickness, and cold had been a daily routine, but after gradually recovering the memories of Wu Qiren the graduate student, and relying on his caution and past experience, Tales hadn't been beaten this viciously in a long time.

Once Quade's voice faded into the distance, the other five children crawled out of their holes and skillfully carried the immobile Tales into the courtyard.

Ten-year-old Synti the "Big Guy" grabbed a curved piece of a broken bowl and went to the water vat to scoop water. Lane the Lame and the dark-faced Kellit, both eight, struggled to collect dry branches and weeds, working hard to start a fire with a flint. Six-year-old Nide with the yellow hair and the youngest, Colia, picked some strange-shaped wild leaves, chewed them into a pulp in their mouths, and gently applied them to Tales's battered back.

Tales endured the pain, trying to find something to distract himself. He looked at the tearful Colia and turned to the dejected yellow-haired Nide, trying his best to keep his tone calm.

"It's okay, Nide, I don't blame you."

Nide looked up abruptly, his face full of terror, and the other four children turned their eyes toward him as well.

"How did you know?" The six-year-old couldn't hide his feelings; guilt and fear were written all over his face.

Just now, while Tales was being beaten by Quade, the three older children had stared intently, despite their fear.

Only Colia and Nide had acted differently—one hiding her face in her hands, not daring to look up, and the other staring into the wall, occasionally glancing over in terror.

Colia's cold medicine was where those copper coins had ultimately gone, so she certainly wouldn't have snitched, but Tales still hadn't been sure it was Nide.

Now, there was no longer any doubt.

He forced a smile. "It's fine now. Quade won't bother with this matter anymore."

"I, I," Nide's face turned an unnatural shade of red. He stared at Tales's back, tears dripping down one by one. "I didn't beg for any money this week, and I didn't dare to steal any either."

He sobbed:

"Rick didn't say anything, but Quade was very unhappy. He said if it kept up, he would sell me to the Great Desert to be eaten by the Aridbone people. I was so scared, so I told him that Tales, that you had brought back so many, many coppers one day... I thought if I said that, they wouldn't... Quade just chased me back and said he would come over tonight..."

Colia's face flushed as well. Her hand, busy applying herbs, jerked violently, causing a few more drops of blood to fall from Tales's back onto the floor.

Tales let out a silent groan; the burning pain that had just begun to subside was flared up once more by Colia's movement.

Lane glared at Nide in anger, causing the latter to lower his head even further. Kellit looked at Nide and then at Tales in surprise, while only Synti remained silent, continuing to bring over the water.

Tales's gaze dimmed as he looked at Nide.

The child was only six years old.

Tales told himself this.

He understood almost nothing, and in his fear and panic, he had spoken without thinking when faced with Quade.

He, even more so, should not be in a place like this, suffering such a fate.

"It's alright, Nide, Colia," Tales exhaled, feeling as though the wounds on his back had eased somewhat. He gently took Nide's hand. "But, you saw it too, didn't you? What Quade is capable of..."

Nide let out a whimper of terror.

Tales looked at him earnestly:

"Next time, if any of you can't beg enough money, just tell me. I'll find a way."

"Compared to Quade, we are the ones who are on the same side."

Nide cried even harder, his tear-choked words somewhat blurred:

"Ta... Tales, I, I'm, I'm sorry..."

Tales watched the sobbing Nide in silence.

In the end, he turned his head away and took a soft breath.

"It's fine now, Nide," Tales sighed softly. He took the chipped bowl from Synti's hand, drank a mouthful of water, and whispered:

"Don't be afraid. I will always have a way."

Aside from the inconsolable Nide, the other children watched the scene timidly, not saying a word.

Tales stared at the ground beneath him, his gaze gradually hardening.

Compared to the countless predecessors who had traversed countless worlds, his luck was undoubtedly much worse.

But, even so.

Tales looked at the five children around him, especially Colia, who was just recovering from a fever; terror still lingered in her crystalline eyes.

At the very least, he thought, he needed to get more money tomorrow.

In the Sunset Temple of Everstar City, after the sunset prayers had concluded, an intern priestess who was tidying up the Altar of God paused in her work.

She looked in surprise at a ritual lamp filled with Eternal Oil beneath the stone altar.

This inconspicuous lamp, which had never been lit, never used, and thus never shone since she began tending to the altar...

Suddenly ignited with a Bright Yellow flame.

The flame flickered unsteadily, shifting from yellow to red, then to crimson.

It was like the color of blood, growing increasingly vigorous.

An elder priestess noticed the intern's lapse and scolded her with dissatisfaction.

"Nia!"

Only then did the intern shift her attention back to the altar.

But it wasn't until the elder priestess herself saw the unusual ritual lamp that she let out a cry of alarm.

"Nia, quick, notify the High Priest!"

The elder priestess's shock could not be concealed. She threw herself before the lamp, trembling, and raised her right palm while flipping her left palm upward in a prayer gesture, muttering incantations.

"The setting sun above..."

What is happening?

Nia, the intern, stood dazed.

It was her first time seeing the respected priestess so flustered that she herself was affected.

Did I do something wrong?

But I didn't touch that lamp.

"But, but, what should I tell the High Priest?"

Nia asked in a panic:

"Someone secretly lit it, lit a lamp beside the Altar of God?"

The elder priest stopped his prayer.

"No."

The elder priest stared fixedly at the lamp, withdrawing the prayer gesture from his hands.

"This lamp, even if one were to scour the two continents and countless islands of the entire Erroel World, can only be lit by one person."

"That person concerns the future of this kingdom."