APIBAGS Chapter 33

Look at that. Ordinary, she said—as good as calling him unimpressive.

Or was it the opposite? Someone who'd been remarkable until now suddenly seeming ordinary—did that work in reverse, making them approachable? Endearing?

Hmm. Going by romance fantasy logic, the latter had the edge. It wasn't for nothing that tyrant characters and Northern Grand Dukes were perennial bestsellers. It wasn't the power that made them popular—it was that on top of all the power, they went ahead and acted like perfectly ordinary men, but only for the female lead. That was the appeal.

"For now, let's head to Ainoa Orphanage."

"Did I mention the orphanage's name?"

Oh no. Had I not heard the orphanage's name yet? How was I supposed to cover for this? Saying I'd done background research would be awkward.

"You mentioned it earlier."

"...Did I?"

You can't spit in a smiling face—smiling warmly, memory manipulation attempted. Fortunately, Daisy let it go with a I suppose I did. Something about it felt faintly like she was choosing to let me off the hook... Probably not.

The original destination had been Ainoa Orphanage anyway, so there was no confusion about direction, and we arrived without incident. Finding his way this flawlessly without any navigation, in a world that had none—the coachman was remarkable. Daisy seemed to think so too; even after stepping out of the carriage, she stared at him in astonishment.

"That coachman..."

"Right. Same coachman as before. Convenient, isn't it?"

He appeared to be a coachman with some shared history with Daisy and Jelly. What kind? It was baffling. A man and woman pledging tender love, and a coachman... A man and woman out for a stroll, and a coachman... No matter how you fit him in, it was strange. What on earth had the three of them been doing together?

"We took that carriage when we ran away together."

Jelly offered a brief explanation. Right, there was that too. A man and woman fleeing in desperate haste, and a coachman... Alright. That one made sense. The image of the coachman whipping the horses in frantic urgency came through clearly. Daisy frowned the instant she heard Jelly's words.

"Don't talk about people as though they're conveniences."

"A person? You think that's a person? You really are funny."

I see a person, though.

But given the way Jelly was talking, it probably wasn't. Wait—the same kind? A fellow werewolf, maybe? He'd risked himself to help a fellow beastfolk escape the slave traders. The coachman was a good person! Well—a good non-human!

That same beastfolk companion was out here earning a living through honest labor, while our Jelly had latched onto one nobleman and was living in comfortable idleness. The moral was clear: being born as a wealthy household's pet was the ideal existence. Not that I could say anything. My own dream, once upon a time, had been to be reincarnated as a cat in a rich family's home.

I pulled my attention away from the man, the woman, and the coachman—the inexplicable trio—and looked at the orphanage.

"It's very quiet."

Kanna's observation was right. Even accounting for the early evening hour, it was unusually quiet, and the gas lamps burned dim, as if running low on fuel. Being on the outskirts of the capital, in a neighborhood that wasn't wealthy, maintenance clearly wasn't a priority.

Maybe it was the weak lighting, but why did this place feel so unsettling? Like something was about to come crawling out. I had never once in my life watched horror films with ghosts in them. Not even once.

It's fine. Calm down. This was a romance fantasy world, and this wasn't a ghost-related episode. Unless there was some specific setup where the female lead could see them, a ghost wasn't going to randomly materialize. Unless she could?

"Kanna, can you see it?"

I couldn't quite bring myself to ask directly whether she could see a ghost, so I left the subject out entirely. Ghosts listen in when you talk about them. Even the thought gave me chills. No subject, but my Kanna had a way of understanding what I meant even when I spoke in fragments. That was the romance fantasy heroine's intuition for you—working hard at everything except romance.

"Yes. I can see it."

WHAT. This wasn't just a straightforward angst fantasy? Why was there a ghost-seer setup attached to it? Ghosts meant horror, and horror was a genre deviation. I wanted absolutely no part of this.

"That person over there—what are they doing?"

I hate ghosts...! A person?

I steadied myself and focused where Kanna was pointing. A dark, indistinct shape was hovering near the orphanage entrance. It was swaying and stumbling quite badly, but it was unmistakably a person. Thank goodness. I had thought it was a ghost.

"Is that... Troy?"

Daisy's voice wasn't certain, but she said that if she wasn't mistaken, it had to be Troy. A surprisingly swift plot development.

"Jelly."

"Me? Again?"

I urged him to do something and he pushed back. Who else was going to handle it? Me, in high-heeled shoes? His future girlfriend? Our precious Kanna, delicate as a spring flower? Or Pudding, who still couldn't speak to people?

Besides—it wasn't like Jelly had tracked Troy down by smell in the first place. He still needed to at least catch him.

Jelly clicked his fingers with all the enthusiasm of someone performing a great favor, and Troy's body froze mid-flight. The culprit had walked right up and presented himself. All that remained was asking where the orphanage people had been sent.

That was the plan, anyway—except Troy suddenly pitched forward face-first onto the ground. Thud. Daisy was standing behind him, holding her shoe. She had somehow gotten around to his back and brought the heel down on the back of his head.

"You really do love hitting people in the back of the head."

Jelly muttered he's not dead, right and checked the back of Troy's skull. No blood—a relief. But loving to hit people in the back of the head? Daisy was... quite aggressive, apparently.

"Ugh, the smell of alcohol is overwhelming."

Jelly, with his sensitive nose, pinched it shut. The stumbling and swaying suddenly made sense—he'd been drunk. His face was flushed a deep alcohol-red. He must have sold the children, pocketed the money, and spent it on drink. Textbook fantasy villain.

"Hey. Wake up."

Even with Jelly grabbing his collar and shaking him, Troy showed absolutely no response—he'd gone completely under. He'd already been knocked out before the shaking started; going like this, he wasn't going to come around for a while. I stopped Jelly.

When Jelly let go, Troy thudded to the ground. Still not a flicker of consciousness.

"It's going to take quite a while for him to come around."

"I'm sorry for acting out of turn."

At the news that more time would be lost, Daisy clutched the shoe she'd used on Troy's skull and bowed her head. The heel didn't even look that high—how did you do that much damage with it? I wasn't the one who'd been hit, and somehow my own head ached in sympathy. Thank goodness Daisy had never taken that shoe to the back of my skull.

"For now, let's go inside and wait until he wakes up."

Going inside the orphanage building to wait seemed like the sensible thing.

My honest preference was to wait in the carriage, but the carriage was too cramped for that. It was a hired vehicle rather than the county estate's own carriage, properly sized for four people and no more. And leaving an unconscious Troy flat on the ground to use as a footrest also felt like a step too far.

While we were at it, searching the orphanage for evidence wouldn't hurt either.

"The door is..."

Unlocked. Beyond the iron-barred front gate—it had the look of a prison entrance—there was a small front yard, not large but the sort children might run and play in, and directly beyond it, the orphanage building itself, not a single light burning inside.

The gas lamps outside were nearly all extinguished too, deepening the dark. Tonight the moon was obscured, and it felt as though you couldn't see even a hand's breadth ahead. We crossed the yard relying on faint light filtering through cloud cover. Troy came along fine—Jelly had him by the scruff and was dragging him.

"There should be candles in the sleeping room."

I followed Daisy in silence. Footsteps cut through the stillness. It was genuinely, thoroughly quiet.

"Here."

We'd arrived already. A large room with multiple beds for several children to sleep in. Daisy dug through one of the drawers and produced a candle, which she lit. Fwoosh—flames leapt up, and Daisy's face flickered red in the light.

Daisy kept one candle. Kanna and Jelly each received one.

"Can I put him here?"

Jelly dropped Troy onto a bed and collapsed onto the edge himself. The children's bed creaked as though it might come apart at any moment under two adults' combined weight. Daisy watched it uneasily.

"They're children's beds, so please be careful."

"The kids aren't here."

"Lady Evangeline said she'd find them."

Kids... Even if you two are a sub-couple destined to fall for each other through friction, please don't fight right now... I gave them a look. Daisy and Jelly went quiet. Couldn't you just get along from the beginning?

"......"

And then silence settled over everything.

Kanna seemed not to like Daisy—she'd turned away from her and was staring blankly into the flame. Daisy was watching Troy for any sign of waking, her hands fidgeting. Jelly sat perched on the edge of the bed playing some kind of finger game with Pudding.

Troy showed no sign of coming around. Waiting here any longer felt like a waste of time. I stood up.

"My lady?"

"I should look around inside."

The honest truth was that I was frightened and wanted to stay here and hide—but if I sat doing nothing and Daisy complained later about my lack of contribution, what would I do? The least I could do was move my body and make it apparent I was making an effort.

Kanna rose naturally to follow, and Pudding leapt into my arms.

"I'll come too."

Daisy picked up her candle and stood. Fair enough—if it was just me and Kanna wandering around, we might get lost. Better to go together.

"Jelly, you stay here."

"Yes, yes. I'll keep watch on this one."

Jelly waved a hand lazily. We left the sleeping room and made our way through the building, looking into each room in turn. The bathroom—no one. The corridor—no sign of anyone. The dining hall...

As I stepped in, the smell of soup hit me at once.

"It looks like this was in use until recently."

Kanna surveyed the unwashed cooking utensils. For the smell to still linger this strongly, a day at the most.

So they were taken today? If I'd come just one day earlier, I might have been in time. Too late now. But if it had only been a day, the odds were good that the children were safe. Something to be grateful for.

I was thinking that when a strange sound drifted in.

"...H——ungry."

Hic. What was that? There wasn't a hint of anyone else in the building, and yet something that sounded like words had carried on the wind.

It sounded like something muttering about being hungry—could it be the sorrowful ghost of an orphan who had starved to death due to funding problems? That wasn't frightening at all; it was just desperately sad.

And it seemed like only I had heard it. Was it actually a ghost? I felt goosebumps crawling up my arms. I clutched Pudding tightly and pressed myself quietly closer to Kanna.