Chapter – 02
A late-night chill seeped into her bones.
Breathing out puffs of air that spread like snow clouds, Marie shivered and glanced at Croport, who was dressed just as lightly as she was.
“Um… Mage, aren’t you cold?”
“There’s a warmth spell on my cloak. I’m fine.”
“Ah…”
Marie closed her mouth.
Croport glared at the child who was trembling nonstop even after crying herself dry, then let out a sigh and removed his cloak.
“Put it on.”
“W-wait, but—”
Croport, who was at least a head taller than an average man, tossed the cloak over Marie’s head. She nearly toppled over and staggered, unable to finish her protest.
But only for a moment. As soon as the cloak touched her, warmth spread through her body. She stared at it with wide eyes.
“It’s amazing!”
“Let’s go. We don’t have time.”
Croport strode forward.
Hurriedly tying the cloak around herself and dragging oversized adult slippers along the ground, Marie followed behind him.
Even trying to keep it from dragging, it was impossible with her being barely half his height.
Dust from the street clung to the hem of the cloak.
Marie clutched it with a distressed expression. Seeing that, Croport frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh? Oh… the cloak is getting dirty…”
“I told you to lead the way.”
“Oh—if we go to the laundromat.”
“Where is that?”
Marie blinked her green eyes in confusion. It was the first time she’d met someone in Rock Street who didn’t know where the laundromat was.
In a small voice, she explained.
“If you follow the big road past the opposite side of the marketplace, it’s there.”
“Where’s the marketplace?”
“From the fountain plaza—”
“Fountain plaza?”
“……”
Marie fell silent.
Had the mage just moved here recently?
But the antique shop at 77 Rock Street, B6—the one her mother had secretly told her about—had been around for years.
In the end, Marie stopped thinking about it.
Being a considerate child, she chose not to pry and simply hurried ahead.
They soon arrived at the laundromat Marie had mentioned. Croport’s face twisted. The surroundings were filthy—hardly fit for human habitation.
Marie glanced at him nervously as she stepped into a dark alley.
“Only poor kids like us come this way. Um… are you a noble, Mage?”
If he were a noble, he would have been offended the moment he stepped into this street.
Even now, with his brows tightly furrowed, he clearly looked displeased.
“So this is a place commoners use.”
“Yes. Sometimes nobles come too, but they only stop by the laundromat…”
Croport cut her off.
“So where’s your house?”
“Over there.”
Past the laundromat stood a small shantytown. Narrowing his eyes, Croport strode toward the shack she pointed to.
“Mage, be careful!”
Marie cried out urgently.
As Croport was about to step inside, something like a thread caught around his ankle.
He immediately lifted his leg—but it was too late.
Dozens of seashells clattered above his head.
“So this is the bell trap.”
The sound was louder than expected, though clearly crude—made by a child.
But his thoughts cut short when a loud metallic clanging rang through the area.
Clang, clang, clang!
As if something heavy kept falling—metal striking metal in rapid succession.
He stiffened. Marie hurried to his side, flustered.
“I didn’t think the shells would all fall. Did I scare you?”
“That’s the bell?”
“Yes. There’s another thread behind the seashell string. It’s connected to trash hanging behind the house…”
While an intruder was distracted by the shells, a second alarm would sound.
Embarrassed at being startled, Croport let out a short laugh.
“So you’d definitely know if someone came in.”
“Yes. And even if we didn’t—”
“Hey! Stop making that can racket!”
An angry shout came from the nearest shack. Apparently someone had been woken from sleep.
Marie shouted an apology, then looked up at Croport with bright eyes.
“They let us know too. So no thieves have come lately.”
“I see.”
His brow twitched.
“Did someone teach you to make this?”
“No. I made it myself.”
“……You made this alone?”
Pretending indifference, he examined the mechanism.
The linked threads. The timing between the shells clattering and the cans crashing.
For a nine-year-old, it was far beyond average.
‘Certainly no thief would get past this.’
His ears still rang.
He finished his brief admiration and stepped inside.
The interior of the shack was just as pitiful as the outside.
Thin, worn blankets patched many times. A straw-stuffed dirty pillow. A few sets of clothes—unclear whether for her or her sibling. A roughly carved wooden doll. Several moldy pieces of bread in a box.
Croport narrowed his eyes.
“Your sister’s shoes?”
“Gone. They disappeared with Shasha.”
“She was wearing them?”
“But Shasha would never—”
“I know. She didn’t leave alone.”
Croport fiddled with his pipe, then began scattering ash around the house.
Marie’s face stiffened as her precious home was dirtied with tobacco ash.
Still, he ignored her, sprinkling ash from the bedding to the doorway before returning to her side.
“Mage… what are you doing?”
“Stay still.”
Marie obediently lowered her eyes.
He sighed and added,
“I’m using magic to find your sister’s traces.”
“With magic?”
“Yes.”
Before she could ask what kind, Croport flicked his pipe in the air.
A pale blue-white light burst forth, forming geometric patterns that spun gently, as if swallowing even the moonlight.
Beautiful.
Marie unconsciously reached toward it. Croport swung his pipe and dropped the spell at his feet.
Then, with his dusty shoe, he stomped hard on the glowing pattern.
“Ah—!”
The design expanded to nearly twice its size. Cold wind swirled, lifting the ash he had scattered.
Marie held the cloak close and watched wide-eyed as the ash moved.
The gray ash, wrapped in blue light, flowed smoothly, forming lines in rhythmic motion.
“What is this, Mage?”
“The path your sister walked.”
“Shasha’s?”
Marie stared at the glowing curve.
Like the steps of a cat, it traced narrow strides and fluid arcs toward the door.
“Yes. It seems she left on her own feet.”
Marie’s head snapped up.
That couldn’t be true.
But before she could protest, Croport stepped outside, following the ash trail.
Just beyond the door, the ash gathered into a tight clump.
“Just as I thought.”
Marie looked between the ash and him.
“Mage… Shasha…”
“The day she disappeared, you said she received shoes.”
“Yes.”
“They were enchanted. She was lured outside by them.”
“What?”
Her mouth fell open.
Enchanted shoes?
“Was the gentleman who gave them to her a mage?”
“Probably. We’ll need to investigate further.”
Her heart pounded with anger and fear.
“Why would they kidnap Shasha?”
“We’ll find out.”
He answered blandly.
Marie bit her lip.
After surveying the glowing ash trail and the dark exterior of the shack, Croport muttered,
“We’ll have to follow it.”
“If we go… will we find Shasha?”
“Most likely.”
If she hadn’t gone to the antique shop, she would have never known.
Marie quickly wiped her tears.
Now wasn’t the time to cry.
“Will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
Croport gazed at the girl who wouldn’t let herself cry, then replied calmly,
“You can’t go where this leads without me anyway.”
“Ah…”
Marie nodded.
“Then let’s hurry.”
She stepped forward boldly.
Croport watched her small back for a moment—then slowly followed.
