Wraith could see in the dark.
Only recently had he realized just how extraordinary this familiar ability seemed to everyone else.
To Wraith, darkness was no barrier obscuring his vision. Most of the time, it was his ally. And he knew very well that, as long as he treated it with caution, it always would be.
So it was easy for him to spot the Shadow moving near a faint light source, more than a hundred meters away.
A mine. A Shadow. Fitting, Wraith thought.
"I can only see one person, Karyl," he said.
"Can you see any dark green tents, Wraith?" Karyl asked.
Instead of answering Wraith's question, he brought up something else.
His tone was calm—almost unnaturally so, Wraith thought.
"No."
Wraith replied, then asked sharply, "Is that a good thing?"
"The dark green tents are where the miners live."
Karyl spoke calmly, still not answering Wraith's question.
His voice grew even calmer. Now, it was so calm that Wraith felt vaguely uneasy.
"They spend most of their lives underground. Years of hard labor leave their bodies in ruins. When the mines they're assigned to are exhausted, the mine owners won't give them another thought."
"But they still have one last bit of use."
"...Use?"
"Quintus has plenty of butcher shops, Wraith."
Karyl said calmly, "The mine owners provide the miners with the dark green tents they live in, and those tents stay with them their whole lives. But in butcher-shop slang, those tents are also called 'Cargo Cloth.'"
Wraith fell silent, forcing down a terrible urge rising from deep within him.
"Unbearable, isn't it?" Karyl asked softly, without looking back.
He walked at the front, familiar with every inch of this place. His vision in the dark wasn't as keen as Wraith's, but his knowledge of the surroundings made up for it.
He moved naturally and effortlessly through the condemned buildings, the alleys, and the possible holes in the ground, all of which he had crossed before.
He was even smiling. It was the same smile he'd worn on a certain rainy night, his skin stretched taut by his muscles, his teeth faintly scraping together.
"Yes," Wraith answered quietly. "But, Karyl, there's still someone over there."
"That means some of the butcher shops have already come to collect the goods."
Karyl spoke calmly. "They only take the dead. So anyone still alive for the moment gets left behind. If there are too many, they'll make another trip."
He stopped abruptly.
"Karyl?"
"...I'm fine. I'm just a little sorry, Wraith."
"Sorry?"
"Yeah. I'd meant for you to meet them, but I'm too late."
Wraith heard a quiet laugh from up ahead. "Looks like we're out of luck. What do you think?"
"..."
Wraith didn't answer.
They didn't speak again as they continued on.
In silence, they quickly drew closer to the faint light. It was powered by the wind. As far as Wraith could tell, the only reason the people who'd come to collect the goods hadn't taken it was that it was already on the verge of breaking down.
He could see the light flickering. A strong wind was blowing now. Clearly, the instability had nothing to do with its power source.
Beneath the light lay a frail person, slumped on the ground and shivering.
Emaciated beyond belief, Wraith thought.
He wore ragged clothes. His pale face bore an expression so frighteningly numb that Wraith gave up on trying to remember it.
The man lay on the cold, hard ground, his limbs stretched out, like a toy. A thousandth of a second later, Wraith realized he wasn't lying like that to relax.
Wraith slowly looked away.
He didn't want to look at him.
He was afraid to look.
Karyl, however, simply walked forward and greeted him softly, his voice carrying a familiarity that came naturally.
"Hakan."
The man's vacant eyes turned toward Karyl. He stared at him without a word.
"It's me, Hakan. It's Karyl."
The miner's neck swayed dully. At last, the numb, withered face showed the faintest flicker of emotion. He opened his mouth and let out a hoarse sound. "...Kar?"
"Mm. It's me."
Karyl crouched down and asked gently, "Did everyone leave?"
"The butcher shop. Came."
Hakan answered Karyl's question in broken, halting syllables. "Tent. No. I... cold."
Wraith saw Karyl lower his head.
"...Kar?"
"I'm here," Karyl replied tenderly.
"I want... die."
The miner spoke one word at a time. Wraith saw tears glimmer faintly in those lifeless eyes. "Tired... me."
Wraith heard a sigh, then Karyl spoke. His body was healthy, but his voice broke just as badly as Hakan's frail vocal cords.
"I understand, Hakan."
"...Thanks."
"You don't have to thank me. I'm sorry, Hakan. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
In the darkness, a silver glint flashed and vanished.
Karyl rose slowly. Wraith heard no further sound from him. He watched Karyl help the miner to his feet, and the miner's eyes closed.
Wraith saw no wound—not on the neck, nor the chest. Those were the places Karyl usually liked to inflict wounds, but not today.
"I'm going down into the mine, Wraith."
"The mine?" Wraith asked sharply. "Are you going to bury him?"
"The rats are gone," Karyl said, his back to him. "The mine's been abandoned for at least a week. They're clever. They know where to find food."
"Are you going to bury him?"
"Yes," Karyl said, then paused for several seconds. That was unusual for him.
"I'm going to bury him. Everyone deserves a small place to rest after they die."
"...Do you need help?"
"No, I don't. It's too narrow down there for you, Wraith. You were uncomfortable down there even before you got this tall. I'll go alone."
Karyl turned around. Wraith saw his profile—and realized that Karyl was giving him a reassuring smile.
But there was no warmth in it.
He turned away, and behind him Wraith forced a stiff, reassuring smile of his own. Karyl didn't see it. Wraith began to regret his momentary hesitation.
What's wrong with you, Karyl?—
"Hakan?" Wraith asked.
"Yes, Hakan. He wasn't much for talking."
Karyl gave a faint smile and shook his head.
"He didn't have many friends, but everyone knew him. Hakan was a decent man. Every day, he saved half his food ration for those who'd been punished, so they wouldn't starve to death."
"...Did you know him?"
"Of course I knew him, Wraith."
Karyl answered lightly. "Otherwise, how would I know his name or what he was like?"
"Were you a miner before?"
"For a while. Otherwise, I wouldn't have met you in that mine."
Wraith nodded silently. He no longer knew what to say.
Before meeting Karyl, he'd known nothing about Nostramo. After meeting Karyl, he'd come to understand something about this world.
And just now, he'd realized that he actually knew very little about Kael Lohars.
Aside from his name and personality, he knew almost nothing about him.
"Mining isn't easy work."
Sitting on the edge of a tall building, Karyl spoke softly.
He was unusually talkative, and seemed eager to chat. In the past, unless Wraith asked, he generally wouldn't go on at such length.
Wraith listened in silence. He could sense a little of Karyl's mood.
"The conditions underground are harsh. Apart from the especially short people, almost everyone has to work hunched over in terrible light."
"They're given a quota every day. If they don't dig up enough ore to meet it, they're punished."
"Adamantium is precious, so it counts for a lot toward the quota. But it's not easy to find. Coal is the most common, but it's cheap, and then there's iron. Oh, and there's a kind of pale blue crystal, too."
"It's beautiful, so it counts for a lot toward the quota as well. The nobles like it very much. But most people spend their entire lives digging for coal and iron."
Karyl smiled as he said this. Wraith noticed him rubbing a finger quickly against a blade hidden in his sleeve.
"Oh, right. Do you know how coal forms, Wraith?" he asked suddenly.
"Plant remains buried underground turn into coal through a series of complex tectonic processes," Wraith answered quietly.
A minute earlier, he hadn't known that. But Karyl had mentioned coal, and now he knew.
The knowledge had surfaced in his mind naturally, like an instinct.
No—perhaps it was an instinct.
"Exactly. Plant remains. That means Nostramo wasn't always like this."
Karyl spoke gently. "The sky must have been blue. There must have been a clear distinction between day and night. The sun wouldn't have been hidden by clouds... and there would have been plants. Trees, grass. And, of course, seas and lakes."
Wraith listened in silence. After a while, he finally asked, "How do you know all this, Karyl?"
"Sometimes I dream. Dreams from the past."
"Dreams?"
"Yes, dreams. People dream, Wraith. The things you see in dreams usually don't make much sense. Some dreams are tender, some are absurd, and some are terrifying. But the word 'dream' doesn't only refer to what you see while you sleep."
"...Do you dream?"
"Sometimes, Wraith. Sometimes."
Karyl rose slowly and shook his head. "Also... I'm sorry."
Why are you apologizing?
Wraith frowned. He silently stood as well, unsure what to say. Beside him, Karyl continued.
"I meant to check whether there was any iron ore left in the mine, so I could make you a knife. But I forgot."
"...I don't care," Wraith said quietly. "Besides, Karyl, forging a weapon requires a furnace, and we don't have one."
"Right. We don't."
Karyl smiled faintly. He turned his head, and a cold blue light shone in his eyes. "But we have this."
He took a slow step forward and leapt from the building. Wraith followed close behind.
Before you continue