Chapter 566: Surroundings (1)
Between the Old Continent and the New Continent...
There lay a small, spade-shaped island perpetually shrouded in mist. Its location was a closely guarded secret. Except for two individuals, no one knew where it was, and even among those two, one didn’t know the exact location.
At the peak of this mysterious island, darkness pooled like dew, then quickly twisted into a large vortex-like portal.
Swoosh.
With a sharp, refreshing sound cutting through the space, four boys appeared, along with a massive creature and a woman held captive by that creature.
It was Pan, the leader of the Black Hand, and his subordinates. And the woman was Jane.
“Where... am I?”
Despite being immobilized in the grip of a grotesque creature, Jane kept her wits about her, scanning her surroundings calmly.
The air, the scenery, the atmosphere—everything was unfamiliar. Yet, Jane desperately observed, trying to gather as much information as she could.
“It’s an island... A fog-covered island, surrounded only by trees... and there are countless dolls hanging from the trees.”
Jane’s eyes moved from a wide focus to a narrower one, collecting details about her surroundings.
She noticed the coastline on all sides, dense mist following the shore, a mishmash of trees without any uniformity, and fabric dolls hanging from those trees. It was far from a pleasant sight.
“Captain!”
As Jane struggled to keep herself composed, a boy suddenly shouted.
Having grown up in the Sisterhood and visited several orphanages recently, Jane intuitively felt that this wasn’t an idle shout—boys don’t usually raise their voices without reason.
And her intuition was right.
“We left it behind, I think.”
A boy in a raccoon cloak said this with the disjointed speech typical of children.
One thing was clear: he was extremely flustered. Observing him, Jane soon understood what was missing.
The boy in the raccoon cloak—he was one of a pair of twins. But the other twin was nowhere to be seen.
They had left him behind in the forest.
“Captain, we left him behind! We have to go get him now.”
The half-twin in the raccoon cloak grabbed Pan’s sleeve and pleaded, but Pan showed no reaction at all.
“So he doesn’t care.”
Seeing Pan’s indifference, despair crept onto the raccoon boy’s face, and soon, he began to sob.
“Captain... I’m telling you, we have to go get him!”
The boy who had lost his twin clung to Pan, his face flushed with grief.
Seeing him so vulnerable, one might doubt he was a black magician. But no, calling him “childish” would be a mistake. The boys before her were indeed children.
Children who had learned black magic.
Jane suddenly felt a wave of dizziness as she became all too aware of the madness of the world she was in.
Eventually, Pan responded to the raccoon boy’s desperate pleas.
“We left him behind on purpose.”
The voice that echoed was far too cold for a child.
So cold that even the raccoon boy, who had been crying as if his face would burst, was shocked into silence.
With a bewildered expression, the boy asked, “...Why? We-we’re twins, right? Aren’t I one of your subordinates? Then why?”
It was clear he truly didn’t understand. Pan explained briefly.
“I said he was impressive, didn’t I? To the fake. Someone like that isn’t my subordinate.”
Though Jane couldn’t understand what he meant, it seemed the boys around her had an inkling.
The chubby boy in a bear cloak trembled, his eyes cast down in fear, while the boy in a fox cloak looked away, feeling guilty. Only the boy in the raccoon cloak continued to protest with a resentful expression.
“T-that was... a mistake, right? It was... just a mistake... A mistake!”
Pan only looked at him with a blank gaze.
Desperately, the half-twin clung to him.
“Your twin underlings have to be twins, right?! If not, then they’re not twins anymore! So—”
“—Then we’ll just have to pick new twins... ones like you.”
“...What?”
The half-twin asked dumbfoundedly, and at that very moment, the creature holding Jane lifted one giant foot and crushed the boy.
Splat!
With a sound like a meat balloon bursting, Jane could feel, indirectly, the sensation of a child being crushed alive.
It was... a thoroughly filthy feeling.
“Ugh, what a mess... Hey, Kervy.”
“Y-yes?!”
At the small tyrant’s call, Kervy jumped in fright and responded.
Jane now understood why these boys were so terrified of him.
“Go select some new twins. Make sure they’re the right ones this time.”
“Understood, Captain... I’ll... I’ll pick some!”
The boy in the bear cloak stuttered as he answered, then vanished with surprising speed, given his plump frame.
“Slyley, bring the fake Wendy here. She’s no good anymore.”
Nodding, the boy in the fox cloak turned and hurried to fulfill Pan’s order.
In the end, only Pan and Jane remained.
The two stood silently, gazing at each other.
Pan was the first to break the silence.
“Wendy... Are you curious about where this place is?”
“Yes... Where are we?”
Jane, rather than arguing or questioning Pan’s decision to call her “Wendy,” simply played along.
It was a tactic she’d learned in the Sisterhood for surviving as a woman in a harsh world.
Fortunately, Pan seemed pleased by her reaction, flashing a wrinkled smile.
“Oh... So you’re not disgusted by me?”
“It’s not about appearance.”
Jane answered without a moment’s hesitation. She genuinely disliked judging people by their looks.
“It’s a very unkind thing to do.”
“Haha! I like that! Yes, that’s the kind of attitude Wendy should have! Not like that other one.”
Pan gestured toward a girl being dragged over by some boys.
The girl was younger than Jane, with honey-colored hair and a sky-blue dress—a pretty child.
“W-wait, where are we going? Can someone please tell me? We were doing so well together, right? Huh? Boys?”
Despite her beautiful appearance, fatigue, fear, and stress had worn down her radiance.
As soon as the girl, forcibly dragged over by the boys, saw Pan, she reacted.
“Pan?”
“Hello, Wendy.”
Pan greeted her with a smile on his wrinkled face, and she grimaced in disgust.
It wasn’t surprising. Pan’s face was an unsettling mix of youth and age. Her reaction, though perhaps impolite, was natural.
Of course, Pan had no intention of understanding her response.
“Oh, my mistake. Let’s try that again... Since you’re the fake Wendy. Hello, fake Wendy.”
The words “fake Wendy” seemed like some kind of predetermined trigger, and the girl flinched, beginning to plead desperately.
“W-wait, Pan! Please don’t do this! I can do better! I can do way better than that woman! So please—”
“—Goodbye.”
Pan waved his hand dismissively, a mocking farewell. At the same time, a twisted tree released a large sack, engulfing the girl in one swift motion.
The enormous sack swallowed her whole, tightening around her body and transforming her into something akin to a rag doll. A rope then dropped from the tree above, wrapping around her neck and snapping taut.
Pop!
With the sound of the rope pulling tight, her legs hung suspended in the air, and the forest gained yet another doll dangling from a tree.
“Wendy, from now on, you’ll look after the boys... just like a mother.”
“Yes, I will.”
Jane answered, understanding vaguely what being “Wendy” meant. It was something that could be replaced at any time, yet also something that had to be there.
She was fortunate. It seemed her immediate life wasn’t in danger.
Pan laughed, a peculiar chuckle filling the air.
“Kikikiki! You’re really interesting! Or maybe you’re hoping for something? Do you think that fake will come to rescue you?”
Jane, familiar with such self-centered, unfeeling conversations, matched his tone effortlessly.
“...Who knows?”
“If that’s the case, you’d better give up quickly. As soon as he shows up, I’ll devour him whole.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’s not something I’m concerned about.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
With that, Jane recalled the last image she had of Oliver, who looked as though he might explode at any moment.
...
Amid the dust and chaos, Oliver stood frozen, like a broken toy soldier.
Because Jane—his second friend—had just been taken before his eyes.
A strange, somewhat familiar feeling washed over Oliver.
It was powerlessness. An intense sense of helplessness.
For Oliver, who grew up in the orphanage and the mines, it was a painfully familiar sensation. Yet, as a black magician, it was now an alien one.
This contradictory feeling left Oliver at a loss.
His mind swirled with dozens of thoughts at once.
Where was Jane? Why was she taken? Was she the target all along? What was the purpose? Was she safe? Why had things come to this?
He couldn’t find an answer to any of it, but at that moment, he noticed a boy in a raccoon cloak left alone in front of him.
It was because of these boys.
It was because of these boys that Oliver had stopped moving, leading to this outcome.
Had he simply continued riding the wolf-creature, Jane wouldn’t have been taken.
As his thoughts reached this point, an indescribable feeling took root within Oliver.
This feeling was reminiscent of the past.
The same as when he confessed at Martel and when he saw Cant’s severed arm.
Powerlessness. And the rage stemming from it.
“Eek!”
At the sound of a frightened voice, Oliver snapped back to reality to find himself standing before the boy.
Unconsciously, Oliver had approached him.
The boy, who had been weeping and calling for Pan just moments ago, now wailed in terror at the sight of Oliver, again crying out for Pan.
“Captain...”
The boy collapsed, his legs giving way.
“Captain...?”
He crawled backward in fear.
Oliver took a step closer.
“Captain...! Captain! ...Captain!”
The boy kept calling out for Pan, scrambling backward as Oliver approached, one step at a time.
The two of them, Oliver and the boy, engaged in the slowest game of cat and mouse imaginable, until finally, the boy was cornered by a tree.
There was nowhere left to run.
Realizing this, the boy broke into a cold sweat, his face streaked with tears and mucus.
Yet as their distance closed, Oliver slowly reached out toward the boy, and the boy stared at him, wide-eyed.
In that moment, Oliver saw his own reflection in the boy’s eyes.
Strangely, the feeling was reminiscent of his fear of the orphanage headmaster and the mine overseer—those he had dreaded most.
This bizarre harmony made Oliver pause, and fragments of past conversations began to echo in his mind.
‘I like that about you, my friend. So, please don’t let vengeance, anger, or hatred consume you. Those feelings... they’re highly addictive. I hope you’ll resist them.’
‘You’re not just my hero... You’re our hero.’
‘Then, I’ll trust you. Whatever happens, I’ll believe in you, support you, and help you.’
‘I learned this from Dave... So please, refrain from showing that side of yourself, especially like you did at the party earlier.’
Fragments of conversations with Cant, Jo, Yoanna, and Jane drifted through his mind, grounding him whenever he’d veered close to crossing the line.
Recalling these words, Oliver managed to retract his hand before it made contact with the boy.
Thank goodness. He could still control himself, even alone. But still...
“—Taking it out on that kid won’t do you any good.”
Armand’s voice broke through, addressing Oliver.
Unreleased anger surged, prompting Oliver to whirl around to face him, startling the two Holy Knights standing by Armand’s side.
It made sense; the orphanage headmaster and the mine overseer had been terrifying figures.
Yet, Armand seemed unfazed, dismissing his escorts with a wave.
“Go and assist the others.”
“But, Your Highness…”
“I’ll be fine. Go on.”
His tone was gentle yet firm, and the two knights saluted before retreating.
Oliver watched impassively before speaking.
“...What do you mean, it’s useless?”
“Exactly that. It’s the shooter who’s to blame, not the bullet, wouldn’t you agree?”
“A bullet?”
Though Oliver understood, he asked again, grasping for any distraction.
“Yes, a bullet. Does that boy appear to you as anything more than that?”
Oliver remained silent, though he knew the truth. He’d witnessed Pan discarding the boy with his own eyes.
To Pan, the boy was nothing but a tool, a disposable asset.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Like a man in a trance, Oliver tapped his quarterstaff on the ground as he approached Armand. Each impact seemed to weigh down the atmosphere, yet Armand remained unflustered.
“...You seem to know quite a lot.”
“As a Holy Knight, I know enough. And besides, Jane is safe for the moment.”
He meant it.
“...Thank you for telling me. But didn’t you say you’d protect her?”
“I apologize for that.”
Sincerity.
“And yet, you couldn’t protect her... Didn’t you say you’d assign knights to guard her?”
“I thought I had good vision... but it seems I didn’t.”
At Oliver’s questioning tone, Armand turned his head slightly.
Following his gaze, Oliver saw five bodies bearing stab wounds—the very knights who had been stationed to protect Jane.
“No, that’s not it... Look further.”
Armand’s gaze seemed to pierce through him, and Oliver widened his own view, taking in the nobles and their guards, wailing over lost friends and family, with Holy Knights attending to their wounds.
“I’m sorry for your loss, and I understand your sorrow... but you’re not the only one grieving here.”