What the Hell, They're Fourteen?!

The clock tower of the church in the town center struck eleven, and crimson moonlight spilled across a courtyard.

The courtyard looked as though it had been abandoned for many years. Vines of every kind covered the iron fence, and weeds choked the grounds. At the center stood a building resembling a small church, surrounded by several plain-looking red-brick houses.

The rusted sign on the courtyard gate read: [Blaney Orphanage, Established in 1675].

The girl didn't use the main gate, which had been eaten away by rust. Instead, she grabbed the top of the wall with both hands, hoisted herself up, and swung over. Then she followed a nearly invisible cobblestone path through the grass and made her way into the small church, whose corner had crumbled away.

She followed the dim corridor to the door at the very end, pushed it open just enough to slip inside, then let out a long breath of relief.

The room was only about ten square meters. Behind the newspaper pasted over the window stood a wooden table missing one leg, with a tiny sheet-metal stove beside it. On the other side of the room was a rough wooden bed, its linen sheet covering a thick layer of dry grass.

Sally turned and shut the wooden door, its paint already peeling and the wood cracked. She hung a brass lock on it, though it offered little real security.

Then she snatched up the enamel mug on the table, scooped water from a bucket nearby, and gulped it down. The first cup was to quench her thirst, the second to fill her stomach and dull her hunger, and the third to wash the dust from the soles of her feet.

The girl padded across the room on small, bare feet and dragged the stove out, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.

Heat slowly rose from the stove, drying the sweat that had beaded on her from running. Such precious warmth couldn't go to waste, so Sally had already filled the kettle and set it on the stove along with two pieces of black bread.

Only then did Sally have time to examine the prize she'd found that day: a silver table knife with a faint chill about it.

She'd been exceptionally lucky. She'd only planned to try her luck in town, never expecting to find something truly valuable. She turned the knife over in her hand. Even in front of the stove, it held an eerie chill.

That fat woman, the Collector, would surely be interested in this.

She slipped two slender fingers into the neckline of her dress and pulled a lens, still warm from her body, out from her chest binding. When she held it up to the silver-plated knife beneath the moonlight, she could see a thin, pale mist swirling around it.

It had been a long time since she'd seen a collectible in such good condition. Hopefully, its owner wouldn't come looking for her.

Sally rose from the stove, intending to fetch some sauerkraut from the cellar and make soup to go with the black bread for dinner. But as she stretched the stiffness from her limbs after sitting for so long, she casually glanced around the room—

—Her pupils shrank to pinpoints.

Sally's heart stopped for an instant, then began pounding like a drum. The hairs on her back stood on end. A burly figure, looming like a storm cloud, had appeared without her noticing, sitting at the table by the window!

Moonlight streamed quietly into the room, while the fire flickered and cast shadows on the walls.

There had been no footsteps, no creak from the rusty hinges, not even the faintest sound of breathing. The man simply sat there in silence, his black coat seeming to blend into the shadows of the oil lamp, a book Sally knew well in his hands.

As if sensing Sally's gaze, the man gently closed the book. His voice was low and resonant.

"Krone Newspaper Essay Selection. Judging by the notes, you're trying to teach yourself to read and write? Admirable, but this book's a little too difficult for a beginner. Denning's Short Story Collection would suit you better. Its vocabulary and grammar are simpler."

In that instant, Sally made her decision without hesitation—run!

Sally sprang into the air like a startled rabbit, smashed through the newspaper covering the window, and landed in the courtyard. Dark soil blackened her feet, and the cold night wind brushed her skin, making her shiver.

She swept her hand over her wrist and pulled a piano wire from her bracelet, but the sharp length of metal offered her no sense of security.

She had to run—but where? Where would be safe?

Run to town? No. If he said he was there to catch a thief, nobody would help her.

Find Silverback and Crow? No. That would only get them killed for nothing.

Find the Collector? Right. Lead him to the Collector and make the two of them fight each other. Better yet, let them both die!

With that thought, Sally kicked off the cold, wet earth and shot toward the depths of the courtyard like an arrow loosed from a bow. But just as she leaped, pain suddenly flared at the back of her neck. A hand with fingers hard as steel rods had clamped around her nape.

The next moment, Sally felt as though she were flying through the clouds. Her whole body lifted into the air.

Midflight, Sally realized that the man had somehow appeared behind her and flung her away with a deft twist. Her body traced a graceful arc through the air before crashing into a clump of bushes beside the bed.

It was over. As Lude slowly approached beneath the moonlight, the girl clutched the rough branches beneath her in despair.

Blackwater Town wasn't cut off from the outside world. In fact, because it lay on the border, crime was even more rampant than elsewhere. Growing up in such a place, Sally knew all too well what terrible fates awaited those who disappeared without a trace.

Now, she had only one wish: that tomorrow she wouldn't turn up in the town butcher's shop.

But as Lude drew closer, Sally could make out his face in the moonlight. She felt as though she'd gone straight from hell to heaven. So he was here because she'd stolen from him? Thank goodness—it was only that!

With that thought, she spoke without hesitation. "Sir, your knife is on the table inside. I... don't—"

"Bastard!"

At that moment, a thunderous roar rang out, followed by a fierce gust of wind hurtling toward Lude!

Yet in the face of this violent blow, Lude didn't even turn his head. He simply reached out and caught the source of the whistling wind in midair—a black-painted iron pipe, clearly torn from the rusty iron fence.

"Run!" Sally's face went paler than ever. "You two idiots, run!"

By then, Lude had bent the iron pipe into a U-shape. The metal bent in his hands as easily as putty. Then he pointed the open ends toward Sally's slender throat and thrust them down with a sudden, forceful jab.

"Ah—!!!"

The girl's scream nearly split the air. A few seconds passed before she opened her tear-filled eyes, trembling. She raised her hands and looked them over. Once she realized she was still alive, her body went limp. Only then did she feel the cold metal on either side of her throat.

The ends of the pipe had been driven into the wall, locking her there like a livestock shackle.

After making sure Sally couldn't move, Lude turned around.

In the waist-high weeds of the courtyard stood two figures facing Lude, one tall and one short, utterly different from each other.

The one on the left was exceptionally tall and broad, his silver-white hair standing straight up and continuing down his neck to his back. His bare upper body was covered in knotted, bronze-colored muscles, and he wore black canvas trousers and a pair of battered old army boots.

If Lude's muscles were streamlined, this guy's were explosive!

Close behind his right side stood a little figure almost entirely swallowed by shadow, wrapped from head to toe in dull, dark linen. With each breath, he seemed to disappear into the taller man's shadow. He was easy to miss unless you looked closely.

"Gentlemen..." Lude clasped his hands behind his back and smiled as he looked them over. "What should I call you?"

"I'm Silbeck!" The big man pointed to himself with his thumb, then turned and gestured to the little one beside him. "This guy's Clown. So, what's your name, and why'd you come to our place and lay hands on Sally?"

Lude nearly laughed when he heard that. What artistic names!

He looked from one to the other, but in the end, he couldn't hold back a soft chuckle. "Silverback and Crow, huh? Hey, your names sure fit. But how did whoever named you know you'd grow up to look like this?"

Silverback and Crow both choked on his words, and even Sally behind them momentarily lost control of her expression.

But by now, Sally had more or less realized that Lude was just playing around with them. Otherwise, he wouldn't be standing there with his hands behind his back, cracking cold jokes. And since he hadn't hurt her at all, she stopped struggling and explained, "Sir, that old man Blaney gave Silverback and Crow their names. We were all six at the time."

"You were all...?" Lude frowned, sensing something wasn't right. He remembered the bartender saying the orphanage had shut down eight years ago. Eight plus six was fourteen, so Sally should be fourteen now. And if all three of them were the same age...

"Wait—" Lude looked at Silverback, who stood a full two meters and forty centimeters tall, and blurted, "What the hell, they're fourteen?!"

Whose kid hit two meters and forty centimeters just after entering puberty?