Chapter – 26
“Later, I heard that he fought with the factory owner because of unpaid wages. He barely received his money and returned home at night, only to be attacked by a robber….”
The corners of Mari’s eyes turned red.
She tried to hold back her tears by keeping her mouth shut, but eventually, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
“They buried the body in a nearby public cemetery. It’s a place made by poor people, so it’s very cramped and dirty, but… my mother is there.”
If only they had had money, she might have been buried somewhere better.
Mari muttered that softly, sniffing.
“Sha-sha is still having a hard time.”
“…So at night.”
“Yes. She can’t sleep if there’s no one beside her.”
Without warmth beside her, she said she would remember her mother’s cold hand and her mother’s eyes that had lost their light. So Mari always slept next to Shasha.
Krofort remained silent after learning the source of Shasha’s fear.
“I should have found a doctor… Why didn’t I think of that back then?”
The cost of calling a doctor was far beyond what a child from the slums could afford.
So Mari chose the pharmacy, and she regretted that decision for a long time.
She should have begged, thrown a tantrum, and dragged a doctor there, crying that her mother was dying.
As the child held her mug and stared blankly at the tea inside, Krofort steadied his trembling breath and spoke.
“It’s not your fault.”
Then he repeated with more strength.
“It’s not your fault, Mariposa.”
Mari slowly lifted her head and met Krofort’s stiff face.
It had always been like that. Krofort kept a calm and cold expression, but emotions showed faintly above his deep blue eyes.
Those dark, lowered eyes comforted her gently.
Mari smiled faintly and nodded.
“Yes… Thank you.”
Mari remembered that day clearly. Over time, she had regretted it, replayed it in her mind, imagined many alternative situations, and eventually realized there had been no solution.
“A doctor with a high nose wouldn’t have come. Medicine wouldn’t have helped.”
The blood flowing endlessly from her mother’s neck and side clearly signaled death.
“What happened to the robber? Was he caught?”
“No. They said there were too many such cases and that they wouldn’t investigate.”
The constable existed for nobles and wealthy commoners.
They would never handle a common robbery in the slums. Mari learned how her mother died, but catching the culprit was something she had to give up.
“Damn it….”
Krofort realized something.
Mari’s resignation was not something formed over a long time.
A child who lived in poverty and loneliness was hammered again and again whenever she failed to receive help.
Each blow chipped her away in clumsy, sharp fragments like a poorly carved sculpture.
That jagged resignation scratched violently inside Mari’s heart whenever she moved.
Following those wounds, Mari would lie quietly, breathing weakly like a wounded animal as the blood flowed away.
Krofort understood. Mari was not okay.
“The reason I’m afraid of loud noises is….”
“Mariposa.”
“Yes?”
So he changed his plan.
“Let’s talk about that story next time. It’s time to eat now.”
“Oh….”
Mari looked at the wall clock hanging beside the shelf and nodded.
It was already past nine.
“I’m sorry. I talked too long.”
“No, it’s fine.”
After a brief hesitation, Krofort placed his hand on Mari’s head.
Mari’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked up at him.
“It’s fine.”
Mari fidgeted for a moment before lowering her head.
It was just a hand touching her head, but Krofort’s warmth felt very comforting.
Though she had tried to act calm all this time, the pain from the past still weighed heavily on her heart. Deep anger and sadness always beat like a drum inside Mari’s chest.
But now it was okay. Krofort’s warm, large hand made it feel okay.
The antique shop was swallowed in darkness without a single light.
Through the window, moonlight occasionally brushed across Krofort’s stiff face.
He sat quietly on the sofa, and after midnight passed, he stood up.
As if protected by some magic, his footsteps made no sound.
Krofort walked past the study and the reception room toward the shop’s entrance.
After glancing back at the path he had walked, he opened the massive, old antique shop door.
The usually creaking entrance door opened very smoothly tonight.
Once outside, Krofort swung his tobacco pipe and drew a white-light teleportation circle beneath his feet.
Then he stomped twice and instantly moved elsewhere.
Krofort arrived at a disorganized cemetery filled with small mounds of soil.
He immediately frowned at the foul smell and covered his nose with his sleeve.
Looking around, he saw a garbage dump right next to the cemetery.
“Putting a garbage dump beside a cemetery… the intention is obvious.”
He waved his pipe to block the stench and slowly walked through the cemetery.
Some graves had soil piled high, while others were deeply sunken.
There were graves without tombstones, and even graves with stones so worn they were no longer readable. It was a chaotic field of poorly maintained burial sites, as if they were made while half asleep.
Krofort scanned the area with an expressionless face and soon found Molly’s crooked tombstone.
He approached the small, low grave and looked at two wilted wildflowers lying in front of the stone.
Molly died in winter. Flowers would have been too expensive during the cold season, so the children must have searched the neighborhood to find wildflowers.
He swung his hand and created five complex spell formations beside the flowers.
Blue-white light flickered several times.
Two formations meshed together like gears, while three others overlapped simultaneously, emitting a cluster of bright light.
Soon, the flowers caught in the light swayed as if touched by a spring breeze. Then they began wriggling, slowly returning to their original form.
As if spring had arrived, the flower buds bloomed fully.
Krofort touched the wildflowers lightly and raised his head.
[Mariposa and Shasha’s Mother]
Under Molly’s name, written in messy strokes, were tiny, jagged letters.
He stared at them, then took a small container from his pocket and poured black powder over Molly’s grave.
After confirming the container was empty, Krofort stood up and opened his pipe, tapping out the tobacco ash.
When the black powder and gray ash mixed together, yellow grains that looked like stars began to shimmer.
“Phew….”
Krofort narrowed his eyes and focused.
Behind him, six spell formations appeared, and above the grave, four large and small formations overlapped and expanded.
Each formation had perfectly symmetrical patterns and began rotating in different directions at irregular speeds.
Krofort finally bit his thumb to draw blood and let it drip onto the grave.
His blood sank into the dark black soil. After a moment of silence, a violent wind spiraled upward around Molly’s grave.
Krofort kept his arm stretched forward and snapped his fingers. Then, a path of multiple starlike constellations appeared before him.
‘Four paths, is it.’
Unlike humans, a magician’s soul carries magical power.
And even a minute trace of that magic could reveal who a mage was and what power they possessed.
Especially in Mundus, where there was no natural mana, unlike Magia, it was possible to extract various information from a magician’s magic.
Krofort traced the person who had been with Molly at the end of her life using the residual magic left on her body.
Excluding Mari and Shasha, the most recent human who had stayed beside Molly.
Krofort’s eyes narrowed. The star-path shrank into a single line.
When Krofort clenched his fist and withdrew his arm, the ten spell formations vanished. He immediately stomped the ground and disappeared from the cemetery.
It was a worn-down, small factory.
There were piles of colorful wooden blocks and crushed monkey dolls stacked like mountains.
Krofort’s face hardened frighteningly when he entered.
He passed through the interior and stopped in front of a faintly glowing door.
Voices were leaking from inside.
“Oh, brother. We agreed to take the diamond this time.”
“No, it’s the spade. That way I can match the numbers.”
“Is that so? I don’t think so….”
Two middle-aged men who looked somewhat similar were giggling while playing cards.
Krofort covered his eyes with one hand at the predictable, trivial scene.
A ferocious laugh escaped him.
‘So it was as I suspected….’
The factory owner who had owed back wages, and the robber who stabbed twice to steal money.
How did the robber know that a mother living in a slum would be carrying a large amount of money?
It was a common story. A common ending.
Krofort opened his blazing blue eyes and created micro-spells on each of his fingers.
Just as he was about to open the door with the light leaking out—
“Stop.”
A magic circle activated, binding his body.
Like worm-like letters, the spell formation climbed from his ankles, wrapping around his legs, body, and neck, tightening relentlessly.
Krofort strained his muscles, veins rising as he fought against the constricting spell.
“Were you planning to kill a human?”
There stood an old man despite the late hour, with neatly swept gray hair, a well-trimmed anchor-shaped beard, and a clean inspector’s uniform.
Alongside him stood his assistant.
“Answer me, Krofort Lynn.”
The old man’s red eyes flashed sharply.
