Chapter 46: Kent (1)
The atmosphere shifted the moment Kent appeared.
Boti, who had been trying to appear calm, visibly brightened, and the same was true for the other beggars around him.
Not only their expressions but their emotions transformed—from anxiety, tension, and fear to relief and joy. This was an intriguing sight for Oliver.
For someone to invoke such an emotional change just by showing up...
Joseph and the Apothecary also had a similar kind of influence, but it worked in a different direction.
They merely induced tension in others, but Kent, on the other hand, eased it and offered genuine comfort.
He had been different from the very first moment Oliver saw him, but to this degree? It was truly fascinating.
Oliver was curious.
What kind of person was this, to earn such unwavering support from everyone? It made him even more curious, as this was a type of figure he had never encountered before.
Of course, that didn’t mean no one had any complaints about him.
In any case, Kent gave relief and trust to the majority.
Could it be related to why he helped Oliver without any reason?
Oliver felt an insatiable curiosity, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
“So, what are you going to do? I’m curious, young man,” Kent said as he approached the beggar in the bowler hat.
He had an intimidating presence that didn’t match his limping leg, shabby appearance, or wrinkled face.
The old man who had been petting his dog, the beggar in the bowler hat, and the others all shrank back, unlike before.
They didn’t show it on the outside, but inwardly, they exchanged uneasy glances and subtly retreated.
Except for one—the man in the bowler hat.
In his heart, emotions like anger and an eagerness to fight surged violently.
“You’re the quarterstaff-wielding Kent? The famous fixer from back in the day? Is that true? You sure don’t look like it.”
“Believe it or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m just a beggar now anyway. With that in mind, let me give you a piece of advice as your senior.”
“Advice?”
“Yes, advice. It seems like you’ve been strutting around with your head held high, but it’s time to forget that. Because now, you’re just a beggar. No matter how good you are with your fists, a beggar’s still a beggar.”
“Don’t treat me like some washed-up old man like you. You look like you became a beggar because you had no choice, but I’m not like that.”
“Oh, what a fool you are. Whether by choice or not, a beggar is a beggar. Now, tell me, what were you planning to do?”
“What was I planning? Hmm… let’s see… Ah! I was going to beat up those tiny little beggars over there with my fists, strip them down to their underwear, and hang them up. Just like this!”
The beggar in the bowler hat shouted and swung his fist.
He was gripping brass knuckles, which he must have put on at some point without anyone noticing. If the punch had landed, Kent’s face would’ve shattered like a rotten watermelon.
If it had landed.
Before the beggar’s fist could connect, Kent leaned his head back slightly and gently extended the quarterstaff he was using as a cane, tapping the beggar’s attacking arm.
Surprisingly, the sneak attack from the beggar was effortlessly blocked.
The beggar’s face flushed red with frustration, and he charged again. But just like before, Kent lightly jabbed the quarterstaff and struck the beggar’s neck.
It was such a swift and natural movement.
If the beggar hadn’t grabbed his own neck, no one would’ve even realized he’d been hit.
“Kkgh-! You damned—”
The beggar couldn’t finish his sentence.
Kent swung the quarterstaff again and struck him on the temple.
The man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and the other beggars who were part of his gang rushed in.
But it was meaningless.
The first two who attacked fell in the same manner, and soon, no one dared to approach.
“Want to keep going?”
“Urgh…”
Tension filled the air. Just then, someone intervened.
“That’s enough.”
The speaker was the old man surrounded by dogs, crouched down as he spoke.
“…Old man, when did you crawl out from the underground?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“I’m just surprised. This doesn’t seem like your usual personality.”
“Surprised? Personality? Heh… you’ve got to do what you need to survive. But still, your skills haven’t dulled a bit. Still as sharp as ever.”
“You only say that because you haven’t seen real ghosts. I’m barely able to keep myself intact. So, are we going to fight?”
At his words, the ugly, large dogs he had been petting began to growl. No, they growled while whimpering, as if deeply unsettled.
“Hm… no, Mole ordered me to occupy this alley, not to fight with you. I’ll pass. Besides, these guys aren’t in great condition.”
“Then go back.”
“Well, thanks. Hey, kids, help them up.”
At his command, the minion beggars, filled with a mixture of resentment and fear, supported the unconscious beggar in the bowler hat and their fallen comrades.
The old man slowly rose from his seat.
“Well then, I’ll take my leave... Not to pick a fight, but I do have to report this to the boss.”
“When you say ‘boss,’ I assume you mean Mole.”
“Well, yeah… By the way, have you ever considered joining Mole’s faction like I did? If you do, at least your group won’t starve.”
For a fleeting moment, Kent’s emotions showed a hint of consideration. Just for a moment, though.
“…I have to admit, it’s tempting, but I can’t.”
“You’re foolish. Though I expected as much.”
“I know. I sometimes wonder why I made that promise back then... Ah, well.”
It was a conversation that Oliver couldn’t fully understand. However, he could tell that Kent shared some kind of sentiment with the old man.
Judging by the context, it seemed they were talking about someone who had been Kent’s teacher before he became the leader.
Oliver grew more curious.
How could someone who was already dead still exert such an influence?
The dead lose their influence along with their lives.
Like Joseph, Anthony, and Dominique... Oliver was becoming more and more intrigued. Truly intrigued.
After the old man and his minions left, Boti spoke.
“Ha… You came at the perfect time. How did you know?”
“I was just wandering around when I heard someone was stealing bread here. I thought it might be worth checking out. Turns out, I was right… But is everyone okay?”
“Okay? Of course! How long do you think I’ve survived in this place? The bread’s safe, too.”
Boti raised the bag containing the bread as he spoke.
Kent also opened the bundle hanging at his waist, revealing some misshapen onions, potatoes, carrots, and a can of corned beef.
“Looks like we’ll be able to feast today.”
...
As soon as they returned, the group started preparing for a meal. Or rather, Kent prepared it himself.
He lit a fire using broken furniture as kindling, then squatted down and began chopping the misshapen vegetables.
He chopped them finely, almost to the point of mincing, perhaps to help them cook faster or to ensure everyone got an even share. Then, he added a bit of the corned beef to a heated pot to grease it.
Once there was enough oil, Kent added the potatoes, followed by the carrots and onions.
Warmth spread through the abandoned building, accompanied by the faint scent of food.
When the vegetables were mostly cooked, Kent poured in some water. Then, he broke some hard biscuits with a knife and added them to the pot, followed by more corned beef.
“Kent...”
King Fist, who had been keeping watch outside, approached Kent as he cooked.
“Ah, good timing. The food’s almost ready. Let’s eat.”
“Ah, yes... But I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Well... Red Nose and Harmonica, the old man, and his grandson have returned.”
“...Good. Then we can all eat together.”
“You know this isn’t good news.”
King Fist spoke in a discontented tone, and Kent didn’t reply.
The silence was mutual, born from their shared understanding of the situation.
But King Fist, knowing that silence wouldn’t solve anything, spoke again.
“It looks like it’s beggar crackdown season again. Our earnings are dwindling.”
“Then we’ll just have to take on more side jobs. I just got a request to rummage through the trash at the nearby intersection.”
“Taking jobs from a broke-down factory owner, a stingy restaurant owner, or a thug pays next to nothing compared to the effort. It’s also irregular, so we’ll barely scrape by at this rate.”
“Well, at least we won’t starve.”
“Kent...!”
King Fist shouted angrily.
His voice was so loud that everyone in the hideout heard it, but they all pretended not to notice, maintaining the serious atmosphere.
King Fist regained his composure and whispered again.
“This can’t go on. It can’t... If the crackdown intensifies, our earnings will drop even more. Tightening our belts won’t be enough. We need to take more aggressive action.”
“More aggressive, huh... Didn’t we agree not to talk about this?”
“...Don’t think of it as submitting. Just think of it as cooperating. Mole wants you, and if you cooperate, he’ll guarantee money and safety. You’ve always wanted stability for our group, haven’t you?”
Kent paused his cooking to look at King Fist. His gaze was soft, but it held power.
The kind of power that could make someone ashamed of making the wrong choice.
“Yeah, you’re right. If we go under Mole, our lives will definitely be more comfortable and secure.”
“I’m not suggesting we go under—”
“—It doesn’t matter if it’s above or below, cooperating with Mole would make things easier. But you know what Mole does, right? I’m sorry, but I’m no hero, and I don’t plan to stop him. But I also won’t cooperate with him. That’s... my bare minimum of conscience.”
“Those are just rumors.”
“Rumors don’t usually spread for no reason, especially not about turning children into beggars by crippling them or human trafficking.”
“...Even if those rumors are true, why should it matter? If anything, that gives us more reason to cooperate. If we stay here and do nothing, eventually we’ll be swallowed up by him, too.”
Swallowed up, huh... It seemed the beggar world had its own conflicts, just like the world of black magic.
That was why everyone was so wary of this man called Mole.
Kent thought for a moment before speaking again.
“If we go under Mole, we’ll live in proper inns with roofs over our heads, and we’ll get a fair amount of money every week... But I’m not interested. Not at all.”
“Kent...”
“I’m tired of living that way. Truly... If you’re that desperate, I won’t stop you from leaving. But that’s as far as it goes. Don’t drag me into it. I mean it.”
“...Understood. I’m sorry.”
King Fist answered obediently, realizing further persuasion was pointless.
Outwardly, he seemed to accept it, but inside, his frustration and lack of understanding simmered.
He couldn’t understand Kent at all, and Oliver felt the same.
Most people would be drawn to more money, comfort, and security... At least, that’s what Oliver had seen in people so far.
Yet, Kent had resisted such temptations.
The important thing wasn’t that Kent was uninterested in these things.
He clearly understood their allure—money, comfort, security.
But he still chose to turn away from them, purely by his own will.
Oliver wanted to know why.
Why would someone abandon what was more appealing?
Perhaps this was the driving force behind the positive emotions others felt toward him.
Oliver truly wanted to understand.
As he reflected on the conversation he had overheard through his minion, Oliver spoke aloud.
“...I suppose I should start by learning what exactly Mole is?”