The World of this Fantasy Novel is in Crisis

“What if someone gets sick or there’s a fire?” Surely someone had to have worried about that before. As if he’d anticipated the question, Robin answered right away.

“There’s a village nearby where we can borrow a wagon. The people there really like the teacher, so they’re happy to lend one.”

“What if we get lost on the way there?”

“Mm, no need to worry about that. There aren’t any forks in the road.”

That meant the only road leading to Cloverland passed through that village—there was no other way.

Satin pretended to worry unnecessarily.

“Could we go to a different village through the forest? You know, in case someone accidentally strays from the path or something.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“The forest is huge. It’s infamous for getting people lost. Once you go in, you probably won’t make it back out.”

Rufus had said something similar before. It seemed pretty much a fact that the forest was dangerous. Robin looked at Satin and gave him another warning.

“So never go into the forest. Who knows, maybe the kids who tried to run away died in there.”

Satin shrank back, pretending to be scared, but he was thinking something else entirely.

The forest is dangerous, and the only village nearby is full of people who are close to the teacher.

Now he understood why Cain hadn’t tried to escape even though he clearly didn’t like it here. This place was practically isolated.

If Dark Age were a mystery novel, there’d already be a pile of corpses by now.

In stories like that, the culprit only gets revealed after a string of deaths. Though the protagonist’s companions usually make it out alive…

I’m not exactly what you’d call a companion to the protagonist, am I?

Satin glanced up toward the second floor. Cain hadn’t rushed out like the other kids to see the wagon. That didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention, though. A faint silhouette flickered at the window tucked into the farthest corner of the second floor.

He probably thinks I’m just goofing off.

Satin could try prying more information out of Robin, but he decided to stop here. If the conversation dragged on too long, it might start to seem suspicious.

“I’m gonna go see if there’s anything I can help with.”

“Should I come too?”

“It’s fine. Go play with the others. Looks like they’re eating something.”

When Satin pointed to the kids gathered behind the wagon, Robin scrambled off in that direction like he couldn’t stand the thought of missing out—despite already having candy in his mouth.

With a small chuckle, Satin headed for the side door to the kitchen. It was usually kept shut, but today it stood wide open to let in supplies.

Rufus was standing there, talking to the driver. He had a notebook in hand and seemed to be checking the items and quantities the driver had brought.

Satin approached deliberately, making his presence known.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

Rufus glanced at him and waved a hand dismissively.

“What’s a scrawny thing like you gonna help with?”

“Well, if you need anything, just let me know.”

Forcing his way in would just look awkward, so Satin didn’t push it.

Instead of returning to where he was before, he sat on an empty crate beside the side door. It was the perfect spot to watch them work. Rufus didn’t seem to mind him watching.

Sacks of flour, crates full of vegetables, eggs, and some lumpy, misshapen fruits were all being unloaded. The fruits and vegetables were unusually large. Maybe that was just how things grew in this fantasy world—naturally bountiful without any need for hybrid cultivation.

Is it okay to just leave them like that?

Apparently Satin was the only one worried about spoilage. Rufus didn’t say anything.

There’s a lock mechanism.

The inward-swinging door had a simple latch on the inside, designed so it couldn’t be operated from outside.

As Satin glanced at the lock out of the corner of his eye, his gaze met Rufus’s. Just then, a worker passed by carrying a bundle of meat wrapped in paper. Satin quickly asked,

“Won’t that go bad?”

“It’s salted, so it’s fine.”

“What about the fruit?”

“We put it in the storage cellar. It keeps for a while.”

“Oh, so there’s a storage cellar.”

He’d seen a door in one corner of the kitchen and figured it was a pantry, but it turned out to be the cellar. As Satin nodded in understanding, Rufus added half-heartedly,

“It’s underground, so it stays cool.”

“Is the basement always cool like that?”

“Sunlight doesn’t reach it. And apparently, it used to be part of an old waterway. Air flows through it pretty well.”

“That’s so interesting.”

“It’s perfect for storing vegetables. Would be even better if the damn rats stayed away.”

Rufus grumbled briefly, then seemed to realize he was rambling. He suddenly turned on Satin with a scolding tone.

“You’re in the way. Go on, get lost.”

But even as he said it, Rufus made no real effort to drive him off. Once Satin stopped talking, Rufus quickly forgot he was even there and got back to work.

As the wagon neared empty, the other children wandered off. From the shaded areas came occasional bursts of laughter—it sounded like they were playing.

Satin kept pretending to be lost in thought while secretly watching the worker. After carrying the last crate into the kitchen, the worker came back out with a grimy-looking sack. Unlike with the flour sacks, he held it at arm’s length, as if reluctant to get too close.

Trash.

The worker made three trips, carrying two bags at a time, then handed Rufus a new sack. Even this “new” sack was already stained and worn from repeated use, but it was still easy to distinguish from the garbage.

Satin decided he’d seen enough and slipped away.

***

“What the hell.”

The moment Satin set down his plate and took a seat, Cain scowled in irritation. He didn’t seem pleased that Satin—who usually sat far away during meals—had plopped down right in front of him.

Of course, there was no way he was actually upset.

He’s just pretending.

Smiling even brighter on purpose, Satin said, “I wanted to eat with you. Feels like we’ve been a little too distant.”

“Don’t talk nonsense…”

Cain scoffed, but Satin ignored it and pulled his chair in closer. Heather, sitting nearby, kept glancing nervously between them, but Satin pretended not to notice.

What kind of line would send a friendly signal? Satin, who had never been the sociable type before arriving here, hesitated for a moment before nudging his plate forward.

Cain’s right eyebrow arched. It was clear he was silently asking, What the hell are you doing?

With a cheerful grin, Satin asked, “Cain, want my spinach?”

“Are you crazy? Eat it yourself.”

The kind offer was met with a blunt rejection. Satin didn’t give up.

“How about the carrots?”

“You eat them.”

“You know, eating vegetables is good for your health.”

“Yeah, well, you go be healthy.”

The kids were eating faster than usual today, almost like they wanted to finish quickly. Satin leaned forward over the table as if completely oblivious to the chilly mood hanging in the dining room.

“Do you not like me talking to you?”

Cain didn’t even bother answering this time—he focused solely on shoveling food into his mouth.

Even knowing it’s an act, this is kind of embarrassing…

Feeling awkward, Satin gave Heather a sheepish smile. Her eyes seemed to say, Just ignore him, but Satin feigned ignorance and pressed on.

“I want to be friends with Cain.”

Even to himself, that line sounded unbearably cheesy. He rubbed his cheek with a bashful expression, sneaking a glance to gauge Cain’s reaction.

Is that an act too?

Cain’s cheeks had turned slightly red. Satin wanted a better look, but Cain didn’t give him the chance—he abruptly stood up.

“Tastes like crap.”

With that ambiguous remark—whether he meant it or not—Cain walked out of the dining hall. Only after he disappeared did the other kids finally exhale. Heather immediately turned to Satin.

“What’s with you all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

Satin tilted his head innocently, and Heather frowned like she couldn’t believe he was playing dumb.

“Why’re you acting all friendly with Cain? You weren’t like that before.”

“I just want to get along with him. Does he hate me or something?”

“I told you before.”

Heather had said that Cain didn’t like the teacher, so he didn’t like Satin either. Acting like he’d completely forgotten, Satin let out an awkward laugh and said, “Oh, right.”

“Still, we’re going to be living together, you know? It’d be kind of awkward to keep things hostile.”

“Doesn’t look like he cares about that.”

“Well… not yet, anyway.”

Satin stabbed the spinach and carrots Cain had rejected with his fork and popped them into his mouth all at once. As he chewed absentmindedly, he glanced around the dining hall—then realized his mistake. Not a single other kid was eating their spinach or carrots with any hint of enjoyment.

Should’ve offered him the apricot instead.

***

“How about apricots?”

The moment Satin entered the room, he asked the question. Cain, who had been lying on the bed deep in thought, immediately furrowed his brow.

“What the hell are you talking about now?”

“You said you didn’t like spinach or carrots. So what about apricots? Those taste good.”

“Cut the crap and tell me what you found out.”

“You’re so cold.”

Shaking his head, Satin plopped down—right on Cain’s bed.

“What are you doing? Sit on your own damn bed.”

“We should get closer, don’t you think?”

“There’s no one around to pretend for, so quit the buddy act…”

Despite the scolding, Satin simply smiled gently, not budging an inch. Cain gave up saying more. He didn’t want to waste energy arguing about something so stupid. Raising his voice wasn’t worth it either.

Still lying down, Cain rolled slightly to look at him.

“What were you talking about with that fuzzball earlier?”

“Did you know the kitchen’s storage cellar is underground?”

“Really?”

“So you didn’t know either. Apparently, it used to be part of an old waterway, so there’s a good breeze running through it. Kind of like a natural fridge.”

Satin seemed oddly cheerful as he talked about something that didn’t really matter.

Freak.

His tone was gentle. His smiling face had a softness to it. But those eyes—they were still cold, like a snake’s. Until now, Cain had always thought of him as a two-faced bastard, someone with a rotten core.

Lately, though, that impression had started to blur. Satin was still hard to read, sure, but he didn’t feel as unpleasant as before. Maybe it was the awkwardness in his demeanor.

It’s because he spouts crap about morals and stuff.

Like a venomless snake—no longer threatening. That lack of bite felt like some kind of goodwill, and for some reason, that annoyed Cain.