I didn’t sleep properly because the events of last night kept replaying in my mind. The fight, the danger, and the fear—everything left a heavy feeling in my chest. It was like a movie that I couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard I tried to close my eyes and drift into sleep. My father’s steady breathing beside was the only sound in the room, a comforting reminder that I wasn’t alone. But even with that comfort, I woke up long before the sun even thought about rising, my body restless and my mind troubled.
Carefully, I slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb my father. I glanced at him for a mont, his face peaceful and undisturbed by the chaos that plagued my thoughts. For a fleeting second, I envied his ability to sleep so soundly. With a soft sigh, I left the room, pulling the door shut as quietly as possible.
My first thought was of Chris. I wanted to check on her, make sure she was safe. The instinct to protect her had been drilled into since yesterday, and it hadn’t left. I tiptoed to the room next door, expecting to find her still sleeping. As I opened the door and peered inside, the bed she was supposed to be in was empty, the sheets are left ssy as if she left in a hurry.
"Maybe she’s using the toilet," I mumbled to myself, trying to stay calm. There was a logical explanation for this, I was sure. I moved towards the bed, intending to lay down and catch a little more sleep while waiting for her to return. But as I lowered myself onto the mattress, a nagging sense of dread crawled up my spine. I couldn’t shake the feeling that sothing was off.
My eyes snapped open, and I shot up from the bed. A surge of panic pushed to check the bathroom. I knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
"Chris?" I called, but there was no response. With a growing sense of unease, I opened the door slowly, hoping to see her there. But the bathroom was empty. The silence felt like a slap in the face.
Panic gripped my chest as I rushed downstairs. I moved quickly, my mind racing with all sorts of dark scenarios. The inn’s corridor felt longer than usual, stretching endlessly as if to mock my desperation. When I finally reached the bottom of the stairs, I spotted the innkeeper. She was fidgeting behind the counter, her eyes darting around nervously like she was hiding sothing.
She glanced at , but when our eyes t, she quickly looked away, guilt written all over her face.
"Miss Innkeeper," I began, my voice strained with urgency. "Did you happen to see the girl that I’m sharing the room with?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could feel it wavering. I needed to know where Chris was.
The innkeeper’s face paled slightly. "T-the girl you’re sharing the room with?" she stamred, her hands fumbling with the hem of her apron.
"N-no, I haven’t seen her; is she not in your room?" Her voice was shaky, betraying the calm facade she was trying to maintain.
I narrowed my eyes at her. Every instinct I had told she was lying, and not very well. Her gaze wouldn’t et mine, and the way she wrung her hands was a dead giveaway. She knew sothing, and it involved Chris. My blood ran cold at the thought of what might have happened.
"Miss Innkeeper," I said, my voice dropping to a hard edge, "I’m sorry for saying it rudely, but can you just spit out what you’re hiding?" I stepped closer, my eyes never leaving hers.
"I can see through your lies because you’re not a great actor, so just tell —where is Chris?" My tone was sharper now, laced with a threat I didn’t fully know I was capable of. Fear and anger bubbled up inside , making it hard to keep my composure.
The innkeeper’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked it with a haughty glare. "As I said," she replied, trying to sound offended, "I haven’t seen that girl. And what’s with that way of talking? Is that how your parents raised you?" Her voice rose in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but her shaking hands gave her away. She was terrified.
I didn’t have ti for this charade. Each passing second felt like it was stretching into an eternity, each heartbeat pounding louder in my ears. Chris might be in danger right now, and the thought made my hands tremble with barely suppressed rage. I couldn’t afford to waste ti arguing with this woman.
A surge of adrenaline hit , pushing to act. I felt the magic in my veins, raw and ready to be unleashed. I raised my hand, the words slipping from my lips almost instinctively.
"Water Ball!" I shouted, and a swirling orb of water materialized in front of , hurling itself toward the innkeeper.
She shrieked in surprise, stumbling back. Her eyes were wide with fear as the water ball zood toward her, but just before it made contact, I clenched my fist, dissipating the spell. The water vanished into a fine mist, but the ssage was clear. I could use magic, and I was not bluffing.
The innkeeper fell to the floor, terror etched across her face. "Y-you, you can use magic?" she stamred, her voice quivering.
I took a step closer, towering over her. "The next attack won’t be canceled," I warned, my voice cold and steady, "and it will hit you. So, I suggest you start talking. Now. Where is Chris?"
She cowered on the ground, looking up at with wide, frightened eyes. For a mont, I thought she might resist again, but then her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I will tell you everything; just don’t use magic on ."
I crossed my arms, glaring down at her. "I’m listening."
"Yesterday night, maybe an hour before you ca back, the snakes ca here and threatened to tell them about the room your father rents." The innkeeper’s voice trembled with fear, each word punctuated by a sob.
"I wanted to refuse them, but they said they would kill if I refused—and not just , but all the other guests in the inn too." Her eyes were wide with terror, as if she could still see their faces in front of her. "So I didn’t have a choice. I told them where you and your father’s rooms were."
She paused, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "When they learned where the room was, they went there imdiately. A few minutes later, they ca back with the girl that is with you." Her voice cracked, and tears stread down her face as she spoke.
"She was in one of their arms, sleeping. Maybe they used a sleeping drug so she wouldn’t wake up." The innkeeper buried her face in her hands, her sobs growing louder. "After that, they threatened again. They said if I told you or your father about this, they would co back here and kill ."
She broke down completely, her body shaking with grief and guilt as she cried on the ground. I stared at her, my mind racing to process what she had just said. The snakes—why did that sound so familiar? I racked my brain, trying to recall where I’d heard that na before. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it struck . The voice of the man at the casino echoed in my mind: "Hey, isn’t that Carson, the leader of the snakes?"
Carson. My blood ran cold at the realization. That man had kidnapped Chris. This whole ti, he had been putting on a show, pretending to be a respectable person. I thought he was soone trustworthy, but I was wrong. The bitter taste of disappointnt filled my mouth, a mix of anger and self-loathing for ever thinking he was a good man.
While these thoughts churned in my mind, I rushed back to the room where my father was sleeping. I pushed the door open, not bothering to be quiet this ti. "Father," I called out urgently, shaking him awake. "There’s a problem."
He stirred and blinked up at groggily. "Will?" His voice was thick with sleep, but concern quickly sharpened his features. "What’s the problem?"
"Father, Chris was kidnapped by Carson," I blurted out, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear.
His eyes widened, and he sat up abruptly, all traces of sleep vanishing. "What?" He stared at , disbelief coloring his voice. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I talked to the innkeeper, and she said that Chris was taken by the snakes yesterday night before we ca back."
Father’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed the information. "That bastard," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
"I thought he was a good person, but it was all an act? How dare he kidnap Chris?" His fists tightened, knuckles turning white. "I won’t forgive him." He pushed himself out of bed, determination hardening his features. "Let’s go to the knights’ quarters and report it," he said.
"Okay," I replied, feeling a surge of relief that we were taking action.
We left the inn and headed toward the knights’ quarters, moving with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation. The streets were eerily quiet at this early hour, the silence amplifying the tension that hung between us. My father marched ahead, his steps quick and purposeful, while I followed closely, trying to keep up with his long strides.
When we arrived at the knights’ quarters, a building that was supposed to symbolize order and protection, it felt oddly cold and indifferent. We approached the front desk, where a knight sat lazily, barely looking up from the ledger he was scribbling in.
"We need to report a kidnapping," my father said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He told the knight about everything that happened.
The knight glanced up, his expression bored. "We’ll send knights to find your child, so don’t worry," he replied flatly. He turned to the side and motioned to two knights who were lounging near the door, engrossed in a card ga.
The two knights exchanged annoyed glances, clearly displeased at being interrupted. With exaggerated sighs, they set down their cards and dragged themselves toward the door, muttering under their breaths. They didn’t even bother to hide their irritation, leaving with slouched shoulders and scowling faces.
"Just like I said, it’s Carson, the leader of the snakes, who did it," my father pressed, his tone growing more insistent. "You need to investigate him."
The knight at the reception finally looked at us properly, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have any proof?" he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.
"If you don’t have any, then we can’t just barge into his house and accuse him of kidnapping your child." His tone was dismissive, as if we were wasting his ti with trivial matters.
My father bristled at the response, his fists clenching at his sides. "Then at least tell where he lives," he demanded, his voice strained with barely controlled anger.
"No, I can’t do that," the knight replied coolly, turning his attention back to his ledger. "We’ll let you know when we find her, so just put the na of the inn where you’re staying, and you can take your leave after that." He glanced up at us briefly, his eyes cold and indifferent. It was clear he didn’t really care about finding Chris.
My father and I exchanged a look of frustration and helplessness. The knight’s attitude was like a slap in the face, a harsh reminder of how little power we had in this situation. As my father wrote down the inn’s na, I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling a boiling rage bubbling up within . We couldn’t rely on them. If we wanted to save Chris, we’d have to do it ourselves.
After we left the knights’ quarter, my father’s face was tight with anger, his jaw clenched as he stord down the street. I kept pace beside him, feeling the sa frustration gnawing at my insides. The knights’ dismissive attitude had left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Tsk, these bastard knights aren’t taking it seriously," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and simring with rage. He paused for a mont, his eyes scanning the bustling street as if searching for so answer in the faces of the passing townsfolk. "There’s no other choice; let’s find her ourselves," Father said, his voice resolute.
I nodded in agreent, and we imdiately set about asking anyone we could find. We approached pedestrians with hurried steps, but each attempt seed more futile than the last. So people shook their heads quickly, a flash of fear crossing their faces before they hurried away, unwilling to say more. Others didn’t even bother to respond, their eyes darting away as if we were invisible. A few whispered to us in hushed tones, warning us not to get involved with the snakes. The more we asked, the more it beca clear that this so-called "snakes" were a well-known criminal organization in this city, and everyone seed to be terrified of them.
With each rejection, I felt a growing sense of dread. If the snakes had that much power, what hope did we have of finding Chris? Still, we pressed on, our desperation mounting with every passing minute.
After what felt like an eternity of fruitless questioning, we began making our way back to the inn. Perhaps the innkeeper knew more than she had let on earlier. If we could just get one solid lead on where Carson might be hiding, we could—
"Big brother!"
A small voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to see a child running toward . It was Rena, the little girl Chris and I had helped when she was lost. Her face was lit up with a wide smile as she dashed over, her short legs carrying her as fast as they could.
"Rena?" I exclaid, surprised to see her here.
Behind her, a woman was running, shouting frantically. "Rena! Rena!" Her voice was full of worry, but there was a hint of relief when she spotted standing there.
Rena finally reached , and I bent down to her level. Her cheeks were flushed from running, but her eyes sparkled with excitent. "I saw you, big brother!" she said, pointing at with her tiny finger. "I told Mama it was you!"
By this ti, her mother had caught up to us, panting heavily from the chase. "Rena, why did you suddenly run off like that?" she scolded gently, her hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath.
Rena pouted slightly, looking up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes. "But Mama, I saw big brother," she explained, still pointing at .
Her mother turned her gaze to , and recognition dawned on her face. "Oh, it’s you," she said, her voice softening. "I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before. It’s nice to see you again." She offered a warm smile, though her eyes carried a hint of worry.
"Where is big sister?" Rena asked suddenly, her curious eyes scanning the area as if expecting Chris to appear at any mont.
My mind went blank for a mont, and I struggled to find the right words. How could I possibly explain what had happened to Chris without alarming this little girl? I opened my mouth to say sothing, but nothing ca out.
Thankfully, my father stepped in smoothly. "You must be Rena, right?" he said with a warm smile, his voice calm and reassuring. "Big brother was just telling about how you helped them." He glanced at , a silent prompt to back him up. "Big sister stayed at the inn because she has sothing to do," he added convincingly.
Rena seed satisfied with that answer, nodding thoughtfully. My father then turned his attention to her mother. "Are you perchance the mother of Rena?" he asked politely.
"Yes, I’m Rena’s mother," she replied, looking a bit puzzled but polite.
My father’s eyes flickered with hope as he leaned in slightly. "There’s sothing I want to ask you. Do you know where Mister Carson lives?" he inquired, keeping his tone casual, as if it were just a passing question.
"Mister Carson?" Rena’s mother echoed, her brow furrowing. "Yes, why?"
Father didn’t miss a beat. "I’m his old friend from the capital. I just wanted to say hello because it’s been so long since we saw each other. But I don’t know where his house is, and when I asked other people, they wouldn’t answer ," he lied, his voice as smooth as silk. He had a knack for this kind of thing, lying as easily as if he were breathing.
Rena’s mother seed to buy the story without question. "Ah, so that’s it." She nodded, her expression softening. "Mister Carson doesn’t have a good image here in the city, so they don’t want to get involved with him." She hesitated for a mont before continuing. "But my husband works for him."
My father’s eyes lit up with interest, but he kept his voice even. "Really? Where does he live?" he asked.
"He’s living at the center of the slums," Rena’s mother said. "When you enter the slums, you can see a huge house at the center. That’s it."
"Oh, is that so?" My father feigned casual curiosity. "Thank you for your help." He inclined his head in gratitude, his voice genuinely appreciative.
As we turned to leave, Rena’s mother called out to us again. "Ah, my husband’s na is Conrad," she said. "If you see him, tell him that we’re waiting for him."
Father nodded seriously. "I understand. I will deliver the ssage," he assured her.
Rena waved enthusiastically as we walked away. "Bye-bye, big brother!" she called.
"Bye-bye, Rena," I replied, managing a small smile despite the heaviness in my chest.
With that, Father and I made our way toward the slums, our steps quickening with each passing second. Now that we had a lead, we couldn’t waste any ti. Carson’s house was our next destination, and this ti, we weren’t going to leave without answers.
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