Chapter 17 - The Vortex (2)
In the slums of Bryse, there's an old orphanage named 'Digi'.
Phil was from that orphanage.
The orphanage only supported children until they turned 15.
Phil, who was turning 15 this year, was destined to wander the city's back alleys like a gutter rat, just like countless other orphans.
But the boy had talent.
He possessed the physical strength and guts to easily beat down an average adult man, along with a slight leyline sensitivity.
While guts were a basic requirement for someone from the streets, leyline sensitivity was an entirely different story.
Discovering this talent, the orphanage director introduced Phil to every possible place.
"Please adopt this child!"
"He's not exceptionally gifted, but he can handle Aura quite well!"
A boy under 15 with leyline sensitivity.
Many families in the world needed such a boy.
These were primarily lower-ranking families hoping to get more children into the academy to boost their family's reputation or rank.
One of these families showed interest in Phil and eventually adopted him, allowing him to take the academy entrance test.
The result was a pass.
This might be the only opportunity in his life.
Phil seized it without hesitation.
Though, once he held it, it felt more like a discardable card.
The family that adopted him was a non-name, not even among the Eight Great Houses of the Sword King or the Ten Minor Houses.
Their name was Lucavre.
As it turned out, the Lucavre family didn't provide Phil with any special support.
They didn't assign him a tutor for swordsmanship or Aura, nor did they prepare a separate home for him.
All they did was provide a small monthly cash allowance after he passed the academy entrance exam.
It was an investment where if it worked out, great, but if not, it didn't matter much.
They didn't have high expectations from the start.
However, even that was an overwhelming opportunity for a boy who had been an orphan.
He particularly liked that his living situation wouldn't change.
He would move into a dormitory when the semester started, but at least he could begin his academy life without being separated from his younger siblings at the orphanage.
"Academy accepted? Yay! Our big brother is the best!"
"Phil Digi! Phil Digi! Phil Digi!"
"I knew our Phil-hyung was the best!"
"Oppa! I want new shoes!"
"I want a headband!"
"I want snacks!"
Dozens of his younger siblings all depended on Phil.
Phil thought this was natural.
He was the only 15-year-old at Digi Orphanage.
All the other 15-year-olds had either died or disappeared before turning 15.
That's why he alone became the orphanage's only elder brother and pillar.
An elder brother had a role.
He vowed to graduate from the academy, no matter the hardship, and then somehow secure a stable job and a steady income.
That way, he could support his younger siblings at the orphanage.
He had thirty siblings to look after.
Naturally, he had no time or energy to spare for anyone else.
Today, he spent the entire day lurking around the academy's free sparring hall, hoping to pick up something new.
Maybe some seniors would be there practicing.
But despite all that, Phil couldn't take his eyes off a boy who was a complete stranger to him.
'What's with that guy?'
There was a kid frozen like a statue in front of the Oak Tree Inn.
He'd seen him on his way there, and he still saw him on his way back, meaning he'd been standing there for over an hour.
And he looked utterly pathetic.
His clothes were striking.
They were academy uniform, but the length was droopy, and the color was faded.
Had a poor freshman gotten ill-fitting used clothes?
How poor must he be?
Even Phil, who received almost no family support, at least got a new uniform.
And that expression.
It was like a wet puppy looking up at its owner.
Here, the "owner" referred to the Oak Tree Inn's signboard.
It was a similar expression to when they'd put a misbehaving kid from the orphanage in the disciplinary room and starved them for a day.
And there was a smell.
It wasn't that he literally smelled something from the boy's body.
It was impossible to smell someone's body odor from this distance; he wasn't a dog.
What Phil smelled was the scent of deficiency.
This was a passive ability that orphanage kids inherently possessed.
Children who had lost their families, their parents, who had become alone, all emitted a similar scent of deficiency.
So, if Phil's hunch was right, they were ultimately kindred spirits.
From Phil's perspective, having cared for his younger siblings for years at the orphanage, it wasn't easy to ignore a child who had been motionless in front of a restaurant for an hour, especially one emitting a similar smell to his own.
Besides, the local security had been risky lately.
In a way, Phil had also fallen into a kind of trap.
Should he talk to him?
He's just a stranger, should he just leave him be?
But what if he gets into trouble?
Wouldn't that worsen the reputation of academy students from orphanages?
What if he's not causing trouble, but rather getting into trouble?
That would leave a pretty bad taste too, wouldn't it?
As he pondered, the boy suddenly turned his head, and their eyes met.
'Phew, no choice.'
Phil sighed inwardly and took a step forward.
"Hey, you there."
"...Me?"
"Yeah, you. Are you in Class C too?"
"Huh?"
"Judging by your uniform, you look like Class C. I'm in Class C too. You're a freshman, right?"
"I'm a freshman. But I'm in Class B, not C."
"Oh, really?"
Up close, he wasn't as short as Phil expected.
His body was thin, and his expression seemed disconnected.
His face was as handsome as a girl's.
In any case, there was a strong sense of caution about him.
Of course, that was natural.
Phil knew better than anyone that his own impression was harsh.
By the way, if he was in Class B, did that mean he was adopted into a better family than Phil's?
He'd heard that to enter Class B, you needed to be at least from one of the Ten Minor Houses, if not one of the Eight Great Houses.
But why was he wearing such a shabby uniform?
"But if you're in Class B, why do you look like that?"
"Uh, huh?"
"You were adopted too, weren't you?"
"Huh?"
"I'm Lucavre. Don't you know the Lucavre family? Well, it's natural if you're not from around here. They're like local influential people. They're cheapskates, so there's hardly any support. But it looks like your family support isn't much either, is it? If you got into Class B, aren't you at least from a Minor House?"
To this perfectly logical question, the boy in the shabby uniform thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Yeah, you're right. Something like that, I guess."
"But they didn't even buy you a new uniform? Ha, this is a goner, a complete goner."
Phil frowned and shook his head.
"Looks like a rough road ahead for you. Hmm, anyway, I roughly get the situation. You just arrived in Bryse, came out to eat, and found the prices here are crazy, so you're wondering what to do, right? And you heard the Oak Tree Inn here is delicious, but if you just eat out like this, the money you got isn't enough to last till next month? Huh? Am I wrong?"
"...Huh?"
My words caught in my throat.
Did this kid have a ghost clinging to him that could read minds?
It wasn't like I was adopted.
Though I understood why he'd think that.
Anyway, this fortune-teller-like fellow, looking closer, his appearance radiated experience.
Long limbs and solid muscles.
His face looked rough and gaunt.
Messy gray hair and black eyes.
His gaze was narrow and sharp.
His unhesitating stare was unsettling.
Especially the old scar around his eye, as if from a knife, was striking.
Was it really okay for a 15-year-old, just entering the academy, to have such a veteran-like scar?
"Surprised? I was right, wasn't I?"
"...Yeah. You were."
"Kid, I knew it. Guys like us shouldn't eat here. Let's go somewhere else. I'm Phil. Phil Digi."
"...Digi?"
"Yeah. Digi."
"Didn't you just say you were adopted into the Lucavre family?"
"What does that matter? Tell them to give that surname to a dog. What's your name?"
"I'm... Ray."
"Ray?"
"Yeah. Ray."
"Just Ray? Ha, he's even more of a lost cause than me... Anyway, good. Just follow me from now on."
The boy, who introduced himself as Phil, suddenly took the lead and started walking.
I went along since he told me to... but who was this kid, telling me to follow him?
Why was he so confident?
Whatever the case, thanks to him, I escaped the trap.
By the way, he wasn't heading towards the market or restaurant district.
Wasn't he supposed to be taking me to a restaurant?
He suddenly turned into a back alley, delving into narrow, complicated paths like a spiderweb.
This was suspicious.
Was he planning to lure me to a secluded spot and extort money?
Of course, if it came to it, I could stab him first and run.
Hidden in my fluttering sleeve was already a weapon (a tree branch) that had tasted blood.
"Hey, are you keeping up?" Phil, who was in front, waved his finger and said.
"I know a good restaurant. Let's eat dinner there."
"There's a restaurant in a back alley like this?"
"Of course. Good restaurants are always hidden in secluded places."
"Are you going to treat me?"
"No?"
"No?"
"Am I crazy? Treat a guy I just met? You have 5 coppers, right?"
"...I have 5 coppers."
"Then it's fine."
Phil grinned, twitching the scar near his left eye.
"I'll make sure you're stuffed for just 5 coppers, so look forward to it. And it'll be incomparably tastier than anything at the Oak Tree Inn."
"Really?"
"Of course. Has this kid been living a life of only being deceived?"
Really?
To be able to eat something more delicious than the Oak Tree Inn's dinner special for just 5 coppers sounded like a real trap.
Maybe a Poison King Cult spy opened a restaurant and was secretly mixing poison into the food.
But Phil's body didn't smell of anything.
At least not of poison.
Compared to the spy I killed with my own hands just a few hours ago, he was pure white cleanliness itself.
So, I guess I could trust him for now.
No, wait, is this a bit strange?
To be able to trust someone just because they're not a Poison King spy... It seems my criteria for judging people have become a bit weird.
Anyway, after winding through smelly, gloomy alleys, we finally arrived at a restaurant nestled between dilapidated shacks.
It was a shabby restaurant with no signboard.
But the smell wafting from it wasn't bad.
"Mom! I'm here! Two regular meals!"
Phil shouted as he entered the restaurant as if it were his own home.
The proprietress, who was busy clearing empty dishes, glared at him and yelled, "Hey! Phil! Why are you here again?! If you got into the academy, eat the free food there!"
"The dorm food is awful. It's not as good as Mom's food."
"And you won't eat free food for that reason? This kid's got a full belly now. He's really hit the jackpot. Anyway, sit down. You too, the kid behind him."
"Yes? Ah, yes."
I sat on a chair that felt like it would break at any moment.
Then I asked Phil, who was already seated, "Is this your mother's shop?"
For that to be the case, the proprietress looked young.
She looked no older than her early 30s at most.
"What? What did you say?" Phil asked, frowning.
"What nonsense are you talking about now? Where do orphans have mothers?"
"...Huh?"
"This whole area is our territory. Digi Orphanage territory. Isn't it like that for you guys? If you graduate and don't have anything, everyone gathers and lives nearby, right? So everyone's brothers, mothers, fathers, and uncles."
"Ah..."
So that's how it was.
I had made a slight misconception.
It seemed he also had a misconception about my background.
"The owner here is also from our orphanage. She graduated and left when I was seven. So she's twenty-two now."
"Oh... I see."
I didn't know how he calculated that, but I was shocked that the woman he just referred to was twenty-two.
My apologies. She wasn't in her early 30s; she was in her early 20s.
I was mistaken.
It seems she's had a difficult life.
"Food's here!"
The owner, no, the owner-sister, returned in less than a minute, carrying a large platter overflowing with food.
"Eat up, everyone. But I haven't seen you before? You don't seem like a kid from around here... Are you a new academy student too? Did you come from another city?"
"Yes. That's right."
"I see. Wow, your face is so pretty, it rivals a noble lady's. Look at this soft skin. And those eyelashes..."
The owner-sister blinked in surprise, then burst into hearty laughter.
"Haha! Anyway, the academy must be good. What family are you from? No, it doesn't matter where. Do you have a girlfriend? I have a younger sister I know well..."
"Mom! Go away so we can eat! Someone with two kids shouldn't be so clingy!"
"What? Are you looking down on me now just because you've gotten ahead?"
The owner-sister's face twisted into a frown as she glared at Phil.
Wait, but she has two kids?
"Clingy? Who am I clinging to? I'm just introducing him to a younger sister, aren't I? And stop calling me Mom! If you keep messing around just because you've gotten ahead, you'll get stabbed in the back alley later, you hear?"
"Yes, yes. I get it, so go sharpen your knife. I get it, now let me eat."
Phil forcibly pushed the owner-sister away and sighed.
"Phew... Just pretend you didn't hear that. Everyone in this neighborhood is like that. It's a good thing the food tastes amazing despite that. So go on and eat... Oh, you're already eating?"
Of course, I was eating.
This wasn't a situation where I could afford to leave steaming food untouched.
I frantically worked my fork, shoving food into my mouth.
I put it in, chewed, put in more, chewed again, put in more, then chewed and swallowed.
"...It's delicious."
No, this wasn't just ordinarily delicious.
The meat, which crumbled the moment I chewed it, was as soft and rich as butter.
The stew, filled with large pieces of various root vegetables, had been simmered for so long that the rich essence had permeated the chunks.
The bread, covered in what looked like weeds—no, herbs—and plenty of oil, was surprisingly fragrant and greasy at the same time, and my body was craving that greasiness right then.
Besides those, there were a couple more unidentified dishes, both so delicious they felt like they were seeping into my very being.
"How is it? Delicious, right?"
"It's delicious. Does this really only cost 5 coppers in total?"
"The portion is huge, right? It's originally 7 coppers, but since it's me, she cut off 2 coppers. It's like a family discount."
"You... you're amazing, aren't you?"
"Amazing indeed. So, hand over the 5 coppers."
"Okay."
I quickly pulled out the coins and handed them over.
Phil flicked the coins with his rough fingers and smiled.
The way he put them into his own pocket instead of giving them to the owner-sister looked incredibly suspicious...
But it didn't matter.
There's no law that says you have to die in this world.
The moment I first met Eric in the dormitory, I had to accept that my life had twisted irrevocably.
How could the first academy peer I met be a Poison King Cult spy?
Was I already abandoned by fate?
But if there are people who abandon, there are also people who pick you up.
"..."
The food was delicious.
So delicious that tears were welling up.
Was it me crying?
Or was it Tiber crying inside me?
"Hey, hey? Are you crying? Oh, you really are crying?" Phil recoiled in alarm.
I silently continued to put food in my mouth and cried.