31 Chapter 28

"You bastard!" a loud cry pierced the noise of a busy morning marketplace on the square. The cry was so shrill that it attracted the attention of a nearby crowd and of a slim figure shrouded in a black cloak, which betrayed the purpose of a disguise in the bright sunlight.

"What is happening?" he asked an armed knight standing beside him and immediately received an answer.

"Don't concern yourself with it, sir. These things happen here daily. It's just a fat man beating some orphan again. He must have stolen something from him." The knight replied with a bored expression.

"It's up to me whether or not I want to concern myself." The young man retorted and started walking towards the crowd that had gathered around the ruckus. "Anyway, how's the work coming along?"

"We still can not identify his location, sir. The vice-commander is searching the slums right now." The knight answered him in whispers.

"Are you saying you cannot find a small child with such distinct looks in this pocket-sized place with a handful of people? And you still dare to call yourselves Wintern knights?" The man seethed but quickly noticed the Knight shivering under his glare and calmed down. "Tch. Useless! Go search the entire area again and don't you dare to show your face to me unless you've found the child. Now leave!"

"Yes." The knight hurried away after giving a curt bow.

People automatically cleared the way for him, jumping away in alarm when his cloaked figure loomed over their back. As he got closer to the centre, the man could hear better- the insults that were directed at a small kid.

"Your master dares covet my property? A gutter filth like you should know your place and never try to crawl up or this, this- THIS is what happens!" The fat man kicked the kid in his abdomen three times as he emphasized the word 'this'. The feeble child, who had already fallen on the ground because of the previous hits, coughed up blood as he got his stomach kicked.

By the time the young man decided to intervene, the fat man had already vented his anger. He started walking away, huffing for breath. The boy who was lying in the pool of his own blood made a spectacle for the crowd gathered around him. Some sighed while shaking their head out of pity, while it satisfied the others that got to see a good show.

However, the commotion came to a still when the kid, who seemed like he was half dead from the beatings a moment ago, stood up on his feet quickly and limped up to a certain person in the crowd. Everyone's gazes, along with the fat man's, were now trained on a trembling, green-haired man hiding in the crowd. The kid had walked up to him and had extended his hands, asking for his payment.

"Now, give me my sweets." He demanded.

The kid who had uttered these words without stuttering despite having a bloody mouth instantly commanded the attention of the crowd. It became clear to everyone that the man had used the kid to deliver the message by promising him some measly sweets. The young man's blood boiled seeing the injured kid, who was standing confidently with one of his hands on his knees, to support his small frame. But despite all the blood on his face, his eyes were sharp blue.

Wait! Blue?! Blue eyes?!… And black hair?

"Wow!" The young man whispered in disbelief. The kid he was searching for so long was in front of his eyes the whole time? Who would believe that the child in this battered state and unwashed hair that made him look like a tramp, was a child of the Wintern dukedom?

"What? So it was you?" The fat man yelled, breaking his train of thoughts.

The green-haired man, in a confusion, hit the child in the head with his cane and ran away. The fat man was on his feet upon seeing him flee. Everyone's eyes followed the drama, yet none of them sympathized with the child. At that moment, the child's blue eyes met with the young man's, who had rushed to pick him up before he fainted. He hid the child under his cloak and walked away with him while the crowd was busy chattering.

"It the bakery owner on the left street, wasn't it?"

"Tch. Who cares? It happens here every day."

"If this market wasn't the cheapest one around, I'd never have come to these filthy slums."

"Whatever. It was a good morning-entertainment though."

"Yeah, did you see the face of that fatso as he ran? It was red as a monkey's ass. Haha."

"What a comparison to make, man. But it's so true."

"But, where did the child go?"

"What, where? Maybe back to the gutter, as the fatso had said. Let's go, man. Can't afford to get late for work today."

The crowd dispersed now that the show was over. As they hurried off to get their business done, no one paid attention to the cloaked man who had climbed into a carriage waiting for him on the square.

He carefully laid the injured child down on the cushioned seat and pulled the cloak off his body, gathered it into a ball to support the child's head. In agitation, he brushed back his silver hair with fingers that were covered in the child's blood and shouted, "To the estate. Now!"