Chapter 1 - Lawrence
By the time he became aware of himself, Lawrence was already wandering the streets of Hilton Village.
He could no longer remember when he had first started living here.
All he recalled was that cold and hunger had marked the beginning of every memory.
Hilton Village, ruled by Baron Jeffrey, was a quiet place with no distinguishing features.
There was a small monastery run by the Holy Cross Order.
A modest inn for the occasional traveler or wandering merchant.
And because there was so little land to cultivate, most of the villagers earned their living in the mountains.
Their main sources of income were wild mountain animals and the herb orel.
Among them, the few who could hunt Underwolves garnered respect as the ones who supported the village's economy.
It was for this very reason that merchants ever bothered to visit such a humble village.
Every part harvested from the Underwolf could be turned into money.
Above all, the magic stones were especially valuable—they were worth so much that festivals were held in their honor.
Of course, none of this mattered to a boy scraping by on the backstreets.
That day was no different.
While Lawrence was searching for food, someone spoke to him.
"Are you alone?"
It was a boy with pink hair whom Lawrence had never seen around here before.
"Want to come with us? You can eat something much better—and as much as you want."
"Something delicious?"
"So, what do you think? Interested?"
Lawrence responded with a question of his own.
As if to show him, the boy gestured behind him.
There were children there—unfamiliar, yet not entirely strangers.
Like the boy, they were all orphans who roamed the back alleys.
Usually, these kids were busy fighting over territory, but now they had gathered together in one place.
"Are you sure we'll actually get to eat until we're full?"
"Yeah. As long as we all work together."
There was no reason to refuse the offer of good food.
The pink-haired boy gathered the children and divided up the roles.
First, three kids would distract the peddler's attention.
While the peddler was away, two would steal the goods.
And, just in case something happened, one would stand watch.
That day, for the first time, Lawrence got to taste oat bread.
"This is so good. Really good."
"There's still more. Are you sure we're really allowed to eat all of this?"
"I think we should save some. Things went well today, but there's no guarantee tomorrow will be the same."
It was only natural that the pink-haired boy, who had organized and planned everything, became the leader of the children.
Luckily, the peddler visited the village regularly.
Things didn't always go so smoothly. Still, you get used to it with time.
Before long, the six children grew skilled at stealing.
But hunger wasn't the only threat to their survival.
That bitterly cold winter, we lost skinny John, who had been suffering from a fever.
"John… sob."
"Please, don't die. Why are you in such a hurry?"
"Don't cry, you idiots."
"Sniff. Aren't you sad, Boss?"
"When a friend dies, at least send him off with a smile. That way, he can leave in peace."
He was the first friend we had lost.
It would be a lie to say the shock wasn't huge.
We often bickered among ourselves, but more than anything, we considered each other family, surviving together in this hellish back alley.
"What's the point? John's dead anyway."
"But we remember him. We're alive, and we remember John! So he lives on in our hearts."
"In our hearts…? Then if I die, will you remember me, Boss?"
"It's not just me. All of us will remember you!"
Following the leader's words, we buried John on the hill behind the village.
In line with the teachings of the Holy Cross Order, we raised a cross and sometimes visited the grave with the other kids to make sure it was still intact.
"I don't think we can keep stealing much longer."
"Yeah. Everyone's on high alert looking for us now."
"It can't be helped. We're older now, so let's try to find someplace we can work."
The boss was always special.
Unlike a typical orphan from the back alley, the boss knew a lot and thought differently.
That was just the kind of leader he was.
We always wanted to be like him.
"Do you think we can do it?"
"We can. That's how we'll grow up too."
"I don't even know if I'll make it that far."
"Why would you say that? As long as we're together, we can do anything."
Whenever the boss talked about tomorrow, we were always included.
A hope that we were never allowed to wish for or even think about quietly began to take root in our hearts.
Living day by day wasn't everything.
Bit by bit, we started to imagine a future, to think about what we wanted to live for.
But time is nothing if not merciless.
The graves on the hillside slowly grew in number.
Empty spaces in the ruins of the collapsed buildings kept increasing.
Five became four.
Four became three.
The moments of farewell, impossible to get used to, kept coming.
"Lawrence."
"Yeah?"
"It's just the two of us now."
"Yeah. Only the boss and I, the last one to join, are left."
Before we knew it, there were four graves on the hill behind us.
Of the six who made up our gang, only the boss and Lawrence remained.
"Lawrence, you're not going to die, right?"
"I don't know. Everyone else is gone. I'm not sure if I can make it."
Just as I remembered the other kids, even if I died, the boss would remember me.
Thinking that made death feel a little less frightening.
"Say you won't die!"
But it seemed the boss felt differently.
I had never seen him cry so sadly as he did that day.
"I'll… I'll try. I don't want to die either."
And after that, the boss changed.
It was around this time that he taught me to read and write, even if just a little.
The reason it was only a little was simple.
Not long after, Lawrence also caught the plague.
My memories from that time are hazy. My mind, feverish and exhausted, drifted in and out of consciousness.
One thing that stands out is that I dreamed.
It was like I was in a fantastical world, nothing like this one.
In that dream, Lawrence played among countless fairies.
Strange, dazzling scenery I'd never seen before.
Countless fairy friends who welcomed me.
「■■■■ ■■.」
In the dream, the fairies seemed to call the boy by some name.
Now, it's all a vague memory—just a midsummer night's dream.
When the dream ended, the boss was gone from Lawrence's side.
The only thing waiting for me, miraculously recovered from illness, was a message that appeared to be left by the boss.
"Let's stay alive and meet again someday, Lawrence."
Hey, boss.
If you're still alive, there's something I want to tell you.
It's not that I want to ask what the boss really was.
We all knew the boss was hiding something.
But we didn't mind.
The boss was the boss.
That was enough for us.
Still, I do want to ask one day.
Am I, as I am now, really someone the boss would want to meet again?
Even if I'm not.
Someday, when I meet the boss again, I want to stand tall and say it with pride.
I…
***
A few months passed after that.
Lawrence's daily life in Hilton Village began to change.
"Lawrence. An order just came in."
"I'm on my way."
The shabby old inn had become both the boy's new home and his workplace.
Merchants of all kinds stopped at this inn.
An employee who could read was a huge help.
"Bring me some mashed potatoes and an ale."
"Please wait just a moment."
Not only did he receive room and board, but he also earned a small daily wage. His "home" was just a storage shed attached to the stable, but compared to the heap of ruined buildings, it was nothing short of heaven.
The workload at the inn piled up just by breathing.
Even when it wasn't winter, he always had to chop firewood. Guest rooms had to be cleaned every day, whether they were occupied or not.
No matter how often he washed the bedding and towels, there never seemed to be an end. In summer, the cool water from the well and river was nice, but the amount of laundry doubled compared to other seasons. In winter, he had to battle a bone-chilling cold that seeped into his very core, the result of constantly working with icy water.
Lawrence preferred summer.
The biting cold always brought back unpleasant memories.
Time flows on, indifferent.
Just like that bitterly cold winter when he lost John. Now, another season of goodbyes was just around the corner.
That night, perhaps because of old memories resurfacing, he had a strange dream.
In the dream, the boy played with fairies he had once met.
Each fairy looked different.
Some looked almost no different from humans, while others had bizarre forms—like a mix of animals and insects.
There was no need to be on guard.
Even if we look a little different, we're all friends.
Drawn in by the innocent laughter of the fairies, Lawrence found himself laughing too.
"Do you want to play? You do? Then I'll help you!"
"We can do anything! We can be anything!"
"■■■■ ■■. So, please come play with us again!"
This is the world of dreams.
Here, anything is possible.
Sometimes he ran across meadows with the fairies.
Sometimes he played with them in the lake.
And that's not all.
The fairies could control water and fire, wind and earth at will.
If fairies could do it, there was no reason Lawrence couldn't too. After all, this was his own dream, no one else's.
The moment he reached out his hand, the boy suddenly woke from the dream and blinked blankly.
Still lost in the dream, the hazy feeling lingered. As if trying to grasp something, he stretched his hand up toward the ceiling.
Would something happen, just like it did in the dream?
But nothing happened at all.
Of course not.
This was reality, not a dream.
He suddenly felt embarrassed.
Even when he was wandering the back alleys, he had never confused dreams with reality.
Trying to hide his awkwardness, Lawrence burrowed under the thin blanket.
And so, the boy didn't notice. He didn't realize that, in the darkness that filled the storage room, shadows were writhing like snakes.
A mountain is still a mountain, even if it's just a small neighborhood hill.
Feeling the chill wind slip inside his clothes, Lawrence pulled his collar tighter.
He ended up spending all morning climbing up to the mid-mountain slopes, where wild herbs grew.
Lunch was a simple meal of oat bread and water. After somehow managing to fill his stomach, he finally felt strong enough to move again.
In the afternoon, he set about gathering herbs.
The herb was called Orel.
It was a green plant with lots of thorny, grass-like leaves.
Just because a plant looks plausible doesn't mean you should pick it at random.
The difference between a medicinal herb and a poisonous plant can come down to a single leaf. A plant you don't properly recognize could threaten your very life.
Orel was no exception.
Its stems and leaves could be boiled and used as medicine, but its roots were poisonous, so you had to use a unique method of gathering—taking only the upper parts.
He returned to the inn before sunset. Even if the mornings and afternoons belonged to humans, in the evenings and at night, the mountain belonged to wild beasts and Underwolves.
Staying longer wasn't bravery—it was recklessness. There was no need to take unnecessary risks, unless you wanted to be found dead the next day.
For some reason, the atmosphere was unusually tense.
What could have everyone so riled up?
No sooner had Lawrence dropped the bag of herbs off in the storeroom than Edrick called for him.
"I've put the Orel in the storage."
"You did well. Come over here, Lawrence."
He could feel Greta's eyes on him from the kitchen. Sensing that something was off, Lawrence hurried his steps.
And soon, he realized why.
In the main hall, there was a guest dressed all in white from head to toe.
"Hurry and greet him. No less than the monastery's steward has paid us a visit."
Edrick was making quite the fuss, but there was really no need—though the boy didn't know much, even he could tell this guest was someone important.
A cleric of the Holy Cross Order.
Ordinarily, you'd scarcely ever come across someone like that.
He was from the monastery on the Village Hill.
Among the villagers, he was held in as much respect and awe as the Baron himself.
The reason was simple.
That terrible epidemic—even Lawrence had suffered from it. It was the priests of the Holy Cross Order who had cured it.
The villagers all said the same thing. It had been a miracle. They believed everyone had been saved by the blessing of God.
But why would someone capable of miracles come looking for Lawrence?
"This is the child I spoke to you about—Lawrence."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lawrence. I am Blackwell, a servant of the Goddess Belche."
No one told him to, but Lawrence immediately prostrated himself on the floor. He didn't want to look nervous, but his mouth wouldn't move properly from the tension.
"N-nice to meet you, Steward Blackwell."
He was so nervous, he could feel sweat beading on his scalp. It felt just like when he'd seen the Baron from a distance.
"There's no need to be so formal. I hear you can read and write?"
"Yes. I can write a little."
"That's wonderful. Lawrence, if you're willing, would you come with me to the monastery?"
"M-me, to the monastery?"
In that moment, he forgot his manners and looked up.
"We're short-handed, you see. I'd like to make use of your ability to read and write."
It was a proposal he never could have anticipated.
He might be living a decent life now, but before he met his friends, he'd been just another ordinary orphan.
There hadn't been much kindness in the village back then.
Hilton Village was poor and bleak. Orphans were treated worse than garbage. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd been beaten just for making eye contact.
Violence without reason. No one cared if a child died. If an orphan disappeared, people thought the village was better off—cleaner for it. If you remained, well, they'd just find some use for you.
Was it really okay for someone like Lawrence to stay at the monastery?
He didn't have to think for long. The steward's calm, steady gaze gave the boy courage.
"I'll go with you."
"I'm relieved to hear that. So, when would you be able to leave?"
"If you need me, I can get ready right away."
Afraid he might lose this chance, Lawrence answered immediately.
Opportunities like this didn't come often. He wasn't dissatisfied with his current life, but if you compared running errands at the inn with working at the respected monastery, there was no question—he'd choose the latter every time.
"There's no need to rush. Waiting is also a virtue, or so the Goddess teaches us. I'll send someone for you around noon tomorrow. I hope you'll be ready to come to the monastery by then."
Had he read Lawrence's anxious heart? A gentle smile appeared on his lips.
"I'll make sure I'm ready to leave at any time."
"It's good to see such enthusiasm. Life at the monastery won't be easy, though. Get some good rest today, and I'll see you tomorrow."
Blackwell left the inn behind. Even then, the two boys couldn't quite bring themselves to lift their heads.
In the end, it was Lawrence who stood up first.
"You're really lucky, Lawrence."
Edrick roughly tousled the boy's hair.
"Imagine—a kid from our inn getting accepted to the order's monastery… You have no idea what a huge honor this is."
"That hurts, Edrick."
"Remember, don't you dare embarrass yourself there."
"I don't plan on getting kicked out either."
"That's the spirit. Honey! Tonight, we're throwing a farewell party! Let's send Lawrence off to the monastery with a smile!"
A small, impromptu party broke out at the inn. Dishes that had only ever decorated the guests' tables started appearing one by one. Even the rare ham and cheese were set before Lawrence. And there was the hot spiced beer, ordinarily saved only for the most special of occasions.
His vision kept blurring with tears. It was the first true kindness he'd received since saying goodbye to his friends. And of all the adults, only two had ever shown him such warmth.
Looking at Edrick, who was laughing with his arm around his shoulders, the boy made a vow.
No matter how much time passed, he would never forget this kindness.
Maybe it was because something so wonderful had happened.
That night, Lawrence found the dream continued.
"Welcome. ■■■■ ■■."
"Good to see you. You want to play again, right? Great, let's have lots of fun!"
Today, he ventured even farther than the meadow. After crossing the hill where the sunlight was fading, a wide lake spread out before him.
Splash! Water splashed high into the air What emerged from the lake was a mysterious fairy, half human and half fish.
"Ahaha! That's cold!"
"We're all soaked!"
The splashing games didn't end quickly. But the lake was so deep that it was hard to really have fun.
What should he do? If he wanted to play with everyone, the lake needed to be a helper, not an obstacle.
"Need our help? Sure. Just tell us what you want to do."
"We'll all help. Everyone wants that!"
The fairies picked up on Lawrence's thoughts.
This was a dream world where anything was possible. His imagination took shape as a single shadow.
A shadow stretched across the lake, forming a long, smooth bridge. It was a bridge that even the lake-dwelling fairies could use. Even in a dream, he felt a kind of pain he couldn't understand.
But the sense of loss didn't last long. Lawrence watched the lake fairies dancing up the bridge and smiled with satisfaction.
And that feeling carried over into the morning when he woke from his dream.
A shadow that moved exactly as he wished. A headache that showed no signs of easing. A pain that felt like his heart was being pulled. His hands shook uncontrollably.
Could he really write all of this off as just a dream?
No. That wasn't true. Even though he didn't know much, he could tell this was anything but normal.
Suddenly, he felt certain. Maybe, just maybe, he could do it right now.
The deep darkness filling the storage room—or perhaps, the shadow itself.
There wasn't a single window in the storage room, so no sunlight could enter, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and could at least distinguish between thick and thin patches of shadow.
He recalled the words he'd spoken in his dream. With a trembling voice, Lawrence spoke to the shadow.
"Shadow."
The shadow at his fingertips twitched. At the same moment, the pain in his chest and head grew stronger.
But there was no time to feel the pain.
He was so startled that he momentarily forgot to breathe.
It really hadn't been just a simple dream.
The same scenery he saw every time.
The countless fairies he always played with.
Maybe it's possible to have the same dream over and over.
But witnessing the dream continue like this just didn't make sense.
Soon, the shadow began to move just as Lawrence wished.
It wasn't a difficult movement.
It simply slipped over to the darkest patch, then returned—a very basic motion.
But even that was enough to make the pain in his chest flare up, sharp enough to tear his heart apart.
He couldn't hold it any longer.
As soon as his concentration broke, the Shadow returned to being an ordinary shadow.
Lawrence clutched his hand to his chest, gasping for air.
It hurt.
His mind was a complete mess.
But, above all, a surge of joy overwhelmed him.
The boy knew what kind of person could do such things.
Even an orphan roaming the streets knew about these mysterious beings.
They're called magicians.
Of course, he had never seen one in person.
There was no way he could have.
There aren't many magicians.
There might even be fewer of them than there are nobles who govern an estate.
The magicians in old tales were always portrayed as both frightening and awe-inspiring, truly great figures.
So it was only natural that Lawrence, who had spent his whole life in the countryside, knew nothing about them.
That's why laughter kept slipping out.
He couldn't hold back the laughter rising up from deep in his chest, just like someone who'd lost their mind.
And he didn't want to hold it back.
A magician.
How sweet those words sounded.
Now that Lawrence had learned he was one of the chosen few, he couldn't contain his joy and simply laughed.