Chapter 173. Furyrit!
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Drawn along by curiosity, Maisellne secretly moved his steps as he followed the three boys.
Originally, the moment he found the boy the “children” were searching for, he’d intended to tell him about the “children” and ask for help—but curiosity had gotten the better of him.
‘All three of them have personalities that would make a spirit shake its head?’
It hadn’t been long, but even so, if you watched the way someone spoke and carried themselves, you could roughly tell what kind of person they were.
Maisellne didn’t have the unique sort of insight spirits did, but he did have an eye that time itself had gifted him.
But up to now, none of the three had shown anything particularly problematic.
Which only made him even more curious.
Anyway, after trailing the three boys around like that, Maisellne managed to learn a few things—most notably, their names.
‘The gray-haired one is Aster, the platinum-blond is Demian, and the brown-haired is Chenbi, hm?’
Their personalities diverged sharply.
First, Demian.
“Friend, this time let’s go to that place over there. In the play, they said that even if you look at the same thing, astrology can be interpreted differently, so you have to compare multiple places.”
Guileless. So very guileless.
In the Amera region, there wasn’t anyone who didn’t know about the seasonal fleecing that was the fairies’ dance, and yet he’d fallen for a theater troupe’s sales gimmick tied to Astrology Street, hook, line, and sinker!
Ah—just for reference, this “Fairy Festival” was an event held every year. It’s just that when there was a fairies’ dance, they adjusted the schedule to match it.
Amera’s tightly coordinated tourist fleecing was, you might say, the result of residents’ years-long teamwork.
Of course, if another region tried this, it would go under in no time, but Amera—famous as a tourist destination thanks to its many beautiful lakes—could pull it off.
Ahem. In any case, next was Aster.
“Mm. Yeah. I see.”
After quietly observing him, Maisellne noticed that every one of Aster’s replies began with “Mm.”
In other words, he was signaling, I’m listening to you, but it was also a basic interjection typically used when you didn’t particularly care about what the other person was saying.
And after “Mm,” it was always “Yeah, I see,” or “Didn’t know that,” and sometimes, “That’s cool,” more or less.
It felt like he had two or three preset answers he rotated depending on the moment—like… yes, like a living golem with half its soul missing.
And last was Chenbi.
“Aster, for reference, yesterday I drank seven cups of coffee. The play praised Amera’s coffee to the skies. So I recommend not watching a play today.”
He felt less like a participant in the conversation and more like a commentator.
Like he was subtly taking one step back and making Demian’s conversation partner be Aster, you could say.
He was just as lacking in “soul,” but the feeling was quite different from Aster’s.
If Aster was a living golem who’d temporarily flipped his emotion switch down, then Chenbi felt like his emotional energy had been worn down and worn down until it had evaporated.
The faint smile… no, resignation, hanging softly at the corner of his mouth was proof of it.
Ah—also, it was something Maisellne realized while observing the three: the only ones Fury shook her head at were Aster and Demian—those two.
Meaning Chenbi still fell within the bounds of “normal.”
But Maisellne considered that only a matter of time.
‘If you stare into the abyss, you end up stained by the abyss.’
And here, there were two abysses. Not one—two.
Not being stained would be the stranger thing.
Anyway, the three of them made the rounds of Astrology Street as if they were “dojang-cracking,” and the results were exactly the kind that made the expression feel appropriate.
The total number of astrology shops they visited: fifteen.
Among those—
Temporary Closure
Five shops had already hung up “Temporary Closure” signs.
Seven shops sprinkled salt in front of their entrances.
And the remaining three?
No reaction.
So after the three boys left, Maisellne, curious, peeked inside—only to find, what the hell?
A dark, gloomy astrology shop.
“I-I…!”
A fortune-teller trembling, fists clenched tight.
His face flushed beet-red as he shook and shuddered—then when he saw Maisellne, he finally sprang up and locked the shop door.
‘…So Temporary Closure is eight shops, then.’
Temporary Closure: 8. Resumed Business: 7.
Eight to seven—Temporary Closure wins.
At this point, Maisellne couldn’t help but get curious.
‘Demian, was it? From what I can tell, the one following behind them is… right, Tohoman. So that means he’s direct line Brando.’
He didn’t have much of a connection to House Brando, but compared to certain families that didn’t even feel human, he’d always understood Brando to be a family with decency in its character.
So how, exactly, did they provoke that kind of reaction from astrology shops?
So, risking a small chance of being discovered, he listened in.
“Fury, I’m counting on you.”
Furyrit!
Of course, it wasn’t like there was an actual sound effect—but in any case, with a very furyrit sort of feeling, Fury whirled away and hid her presence.
Soon, what Fury was hearing was relayed to his ears, and… well.
“Hoo….”
Without meaning to, Maisellne let out a sigh.
First, the cause of the fortune-tellers’ defeat(?) was clear.
‘…They can’t communicate.’
Yes—there was simply no way to keep the conversation going.
First, tarot cards.
“First, please choose three cards that you want. For the first card, think of the past; for the second, the present; for the third, the future, and draw them.”
Demian’s response went like this.
“They said time flows.”
“…?”
“The moment you think, even the ‘now’ you thought becomes the past. So drawing while thinking of the ‘present’ doesn’t make sense.”
Of course, a fortune-teller wasn’t the sort to be speechless at words like that.
Even if they looked like this, they had a practical silver tongue honed and honed over years of dealing with tourists.
But the problem was that the three boys didn’t give the fortune-teller any opening to speak.
“If the future is the past, what do you do? Like, the future that’s coming up ahead has already become the past for me. The present, depending on how you look at it, is the past for me.”
For once, Aster had a soul.
Meaning—he was genuinely curious, but… still.
The unexpected menace was Chenbi.
“Uh… the shop earlier also used these same cards. If the results come out differently, which one should I trust more? Wait a second. I wrote down the shop names and results for the tarot readings I got. That one was….”
As he said that, was he flipping through a notebook? Frrk, frrk—the sound carrying over.
There was no “difficult customer” like this.
And it was even worse because there was no malice in it.
Why?
If there’s malice, then on some level—even unconsciously—the person recognizes they’re being malicious, and someday there’s room for improvement.
But having no malice means it’s just their nature.
You can correct an action, but you can’t change the person themselves.
And yet—was this Amera, truly devoted to the fairies’ dance festival?
Even under this harsh humiliation, the fortune-teller didn’t break.
“Th-then… shall we put tarot aside and divine your future with a crystal ball? If you place your hand on top of this crystal ball—”
But here again, Chenbi stepped in.
“Ah! I saw this at another place earlier too—wait a second. The result came out like this, so….”
Maisellne listened up to that point, then called Fury back in.
“Come back, Fury.”
Furyrit!
Fury appeared in an instant.
Maisellne closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his temples firmly.
Just for a brief moment—only a few lines of conversation—and yet his head was spinning as if it were the morning after a heavy bout of drinking.
It was like the astrologer’s suffering had transferred into him.
Of course—
‘…This alone wouldn’t make them shut down shop.’
His curiosity rose.
What on earth happened after this that made the shops they’d passed close their doors?
How did you make astrologers in Amera—people serious about seasonal business—hang “Temporary Closure” signs during peak season?
But.
Maisellne forced his curiosity down.
As he’d gotten older, he’d learned something.
‘Excessive curiosity shortens your life.’
For reference, at this age, it was possible for “my insides are bursting” to stop being metaphorical. Of course, it wouldn’t be your literal insides bursting—more like blood rushing to your head until you ascend, but still.
For reference, Maisellne didn’t hear it, but the common line the shops that closed their doors had all heard was Demian’s: “If it’s astrology, why aren’t you looking at the stars?”
Asking them to read the stars in broad daylight…
Of course, it wasn’t only because of that one line—more like the main reason was that the conversation went on for a long time before it ever reached that line.
Anyway, Maisellne kept pressing his throbbing temples, then let out a deep sigh.
The questions he’d been holding back surged up.
‘Just what… does that boy Aster have?’
The reason the “children” wanted Aster was likely because he could save them.
In other words—he was a savior.
If it were Demian, then maybe. Sure.
He’d at least have the power of House Brando to do something. And wasn’t an outstanding mage like Tohoman right by his side!
“Hmm….”
Maisellne murmured lowly and gathered his thoughts.
“There must be… a reason.”
It was only that he hadn’t seen it.
There was, certainly, something.
But putting that aside.
After watching the three this far, a worry naturally surfaced.
Aster wasn’t alone, and since he moved around with Demian, he was probably with Brando’s people.
There was no easy way to approach.
No—truthfully, approaching them would be possible somehow.
Even if he’d abandoned his name and become a wanderer with no fixed destination, this name might still be usable.
Of course, a prestigious family like Brando wouldn’t cower at his name, but they also wouldn’t be able to ignore it outright.
But the problem was this.
‘…I’m not confident.’
Not confident in what?
‘Can I even have a conversation with that kid?’
Yes—this was why his head had throbbed while listening to the fortune-teller’s conversation.
It didn’t feel like someone else’s problem.
Even if his conversation partner would only be Aster alone, that half-soul-gone look was suffocating all the same.
While he continued to worry—
Flap.
For whatever reason, Aster came out of the astrology shop alone.
Aster soon headed toward a corner of some alleyway, and Maisellne, without realizing it, held his breath and checked the surroundings.
In case someone might follow out from the astrology shop.
How long did he wait like that?
After confirming no one came out, Maisellne rejoiced internally and moved toward the path Aster had disappeared down.
‘I don’t know why he came out alone, but… this works out perfectly.’
If he wanted to speak with Aster, now was the best time.
And so, he entered the alley.
‘Hmm. Where did he go?’
Even as Maisellne found it strange that he’d lost track of the young boy’s presence, he enlisted Fury’s help and searched for Aster.
It was then that a rough, shady voice came from deeper in the alley.
“Hey, kid. Come over here.”
A textbook back-alley line.
But—kid?
Did they mean Aster?
Maisellne followed the thug’s presence and moved closer, and even as he did, the conversation continued.
“Where you from? You got some money? Want your Hyungs to show you a fun place? Ah, we’re not shaking you down. We’re just gonna guide you.”
How was it that… back-alley punks’ lines never changed?
Maisellne was approaching the alley, shaking his head, when Aster’s voice rang out.
“Ah, Hyung. So you weren’t shaking me down?”
A voice overflowing with soul, unlike before.
At that question, the punks snickered, going puh-heh-heh in agreement.
“Ah, of course. We’re guiding you—how’s that shaking you down? We’re just getting proper compensation for our labor. Right?”
Up to here, it was pretty cliché.
But.
At Aster’s next words, Maisellne stopped in his tracks.
“But I am shaking you down.”
What? Shaking down what?
“I feel like I’m about to pop my top, so before you shake me down, I’m going to give you guys a bang each. Let’s start light—with a simple face-punch.”
“Pu—puhaha. What is this kid say—kugh!”
Then came the impact sounds and the punks’ groans echoing out.
Aster, full of pent-up frustration, beat the punks down with loosened strength. If he really cut loose, it wouldn’t last long.
“What kind of—troupe—is this, huh? Astrology Street—and! What?!—a tie-in! With it! Huh?!”
Amid the lively sound of him beating them senseless—
Maisellne stood frozen, his eyes trembling faintly.
‘That… thing… is a savior?’
