Chapter Three

[Vroom-vroom]

The whistle of machines resounded in every corner of Karland's road, they came from the horseless carriages. Unlike the usual form of carriages, these moving blocks of steel had their front extended forward—just like the beak to a bird.

Dressed in neat clothes and without his robe, Kyle was driving a horseless—what people call these horseless carriages. His left hand was inserted into a cylinder that occasionally illuminates from time to time, and his right hand was controlling the steering wheel in front of him.

Horseless are a dream to normal civilians. Not only do they not have enough money to afford one, but they would also collapse due to energy exhaustion the moment they even attempt to drive it—unless they hired a specialized chauffeur.

But this bore no trouble for Kyle, the amount of money he brought with him was enough for a family to live comfortably for the rest of their life—and his energy reserve is better than most individuals.

Kyle looked far into the distance and saw a blanket of sunset covering the horizon, being reflected by objects from all corners of the city. Lanterns hanging above the wooden pole slightly brightened the ground below them.

The road harbored only two other horseless', and many people can be seen on the side—still out even when the sun is about to not to. Their faces were generally clean and bright, eager for life to continue.

"Not a sight visible at most places, unfortunately," shaking his head, he turned away and focused on the asphalt road.

Several roads went by and the sun was no longer visible in the distance. He pulled over and fished out a piece of wrinkled paper from his back pocket. Unlike the previous one, this map looked like they were scribbled hastily—but the circle that was drawn in the middle of the city has disappeared. In its place, a small dot could be seen near the middle of the map.

When Gyne ran—bade farewell to him, he had asked a kind civilian for directions. They were a bit forgetful at first, but the shine of a gold coin quickly aroused their memories. They even thanked Kyle after drawing a map for him.

Confirming that he was at the right place, he scanned the buildings nearby before stopping at a black sign hanging outside of a building. The lantern above shone the board, and the huge words could be seen easily.

"The Karland's Association of Welfare…"

It was a two-story building. From the outside, nothing eye-catching could be seen except for the big words painted on a wooden plank. The wooden sign was decorated with gold-colored words that read: "Welcome to the Karland's Association of Welfare's headquarters."

It didn't look that fancy, but shabby wasn't a word that could be matched with the building. If anything, it looked modestly silly—due to the sign taking away all the attention from the building.

'This is the place I'm looking for? This old, small, and run-down building? I thought this was supposed to be where Karland's most renounced historian reside, not what those miserable wretches call home…'

But even so, Kyle was very unsatisfied with the condition of this place. He was told that the history this organization held wasn't to be underestimated, so he was hoping for a more grandiose and majestic looking place—not some random building you could find on all corners of Karland.

Amidst his inner complaint, the door to the building slowly opened—and a child's head popped out. He was around the age of 8, still pure and oblivious to the darkness of this world. His head continuously shook from left to right, scanning the road as if searching for something.

The kid was going to keep searching if not for the slender palm suddenly gripping his head. With a shriek, he jumped and tried to flip his body backward—but the palm was too strong for him to do so. Under the child's unwillingness, he was lifted from the ground and was brought inside—closing the door on its way in.

Forehead wrinkled, Kyle contemplated whether or not to approach the building. So far, the building looked like it harbored children, not historians. But figuring that there would be no harm in trying, Kyle got off the horseless and walked to the Karland's Association of Welfare's headquarters.

With the light of the lantern shining on the side of his head, he raised his hand in order to knock on the wooden door. But before he was able to, the door opened by itself—revealing a boy behind it.

He was about to stick his head out before freezing at the sight of an unfamiliar person in front of him. Kyle saw the o-shaped reaction and lowered his hand, but before he had a chance to speak—the boy regained clarity and smacked the door in front of his face.

"S-someone's in the front door!" a child's scream can be heard through the door.

Alongside the scream, all the noises inside the house halted. Kyle kept his silence outside the building, hurried footsteps came from the second floor.

It didn't take long before the entrance opened again. But this time—instead of a child—an adolescent woman appeared behind the door.

She was wearing a white shirt and a pair of jeans that matched her brown hair. Upon seeing Kyle's annoyed face, she bowed her head and repeatedly shook it.

"I am truly sorry for the improper side we had shown earlier!"

"…It's fine,"

The teenage woman breathed in relief when she heard his reply. After taking a deep breath, she abruptly glared at a wall behind her. And as if someone realized her wrath, a faint shriek resounded from that direction.

Somewhat satisfied with that response, she faced Kyle again with a polite smile plastered on her face.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, what is your purpose of visit?"

Finally hearing the words he wanted to hear, Kyle skillfully removed the gold medal on his chest and held it in front of the girl's face. The lantern's orange luster was reflected from the medal, highlighting the overlapping circles in the middle.

She only took a glance at the medal, before her pupils widened indiscernibly. Without losing much composure, she moved sideways and opened her arms—welcoming him to the building.

"Please enter, the president is waiting for you on the second floor."

With no awkward motion, Kyle walked inside the building and glanced at the corners of the room. Although it looked like a normal wooden building outside, the inside was carefully layered with an elegant black—making it pleasing to the eyes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The woman engaged with some idle chatters.

"One of our people found out that our ancestors used to mix charcoal with mud to paint houses. We planned to sell these paints, but they always crack and break down in a short amount of time—so we eventually scrapped the idea."

"Charcoal…and mud?"

…To think that all of these "elegant" blacks were made with charcoal and mud…Kyle felt disgust slightly welling up in him, but tried his best to suppress them—continuously thinking that almost everything was made with dirty materials anyways.

The self-suggestion worked slightly, and he started to move forward faster, eager to leave this place even just a second quicker.

They climbed up the stairs and stood in front of the president's office. It was located near the steps. To reach it, one would just have to pass through a short hallway.

With a knock, the brown-haired woman opened the door without waiting for a reply to be returned. Probably used to such an entrance, the middle-aged man sitting behind a black table was unfazed and smiled at both of them.

"Please, make yourself at home," he—the president of Karland's Association of Welfare, gestured at Kyle.

The inside of the office wasn't too luxurious. The walls were painted with the same elegant theme as downstairs, and bookshelves occupied most of the rooms. The only thing Kyle would judge as luxurious was the huge amount of knowledge those books possessed and the carpet covering the whole floor. It depicted a person holding a child's hand, the symbol of the association.

"Thank you," accepting the president's goodwill, Kyle sat down comfortably on the sofa. To his surprise, this normal-looking sofa was as comfortable as the bed he used to sleep in. This revelation brought a new understanding to his mind.

'Perhaps the whole association is akin to this sofa, ordinary at first glance until one look closer to it.'

Somewhat expectant, Kyle tapped his fingers on the sofa.

"Please drink at your leisure," the young teen poured tea down from a tea set she pulled from somewhere. After filling two more cups, she put down the ceramic set and picked a cup for herself.

""…""

Only the sound of tea being slurped remained in the room, yet she was still oblivious to the results of her action.

"Cough—cough."

As the head of the meeting, the president dispelled the stale atmosphere by coughing. He smiled politely and said, "Good evening, Mr. Baretta."

"Good evening, Mr..," while smiling, Kyle trailed off the end of his sentence.

"You can call me as Mr. Kite, or president—both of them suits me," he smiled politely.

Mr. Kite was a middle-aged man wearing a tuxedo and a pair of black trousers. His bearings were not befitting of a president though, he felt more like the gentle uncle visiting your family frequently with gifts.

"Sure, Mr. Kite. You should also change the way you address me, I only turned eighteen this year after all," Kyle spoke with another polite smile in return.

"Hahahahaha, forgive my rudeness then, young Kyle."

Although the president looked like he wanted to continue chatting with him, Kyle quickly spoke without giving him a chance to do so.

"So, Mr. Kite. Let's not waste both of our time here, I am sent here to inquire about 'that'," Kyle spoke while continuously tossing the medal with his right hand—like what people would usually do with a coin.

The president didn't seem to be offended by him and nodded gently.

"Ah, the tomb that appeared recently, yes?"

With that sentence, a wide smile replaced the polite smile on Kyle's face.