Linia Took in a Child - Chapter 1: The Child (1)

A deep night where even the moon refused to rise. A man ran through the empty alley, his hair damp with cold sweat and fatigue, faintly gleaming silver in the darkness.

The narrow, winding alley twisted like a maze. After passing through several lanes, Edwin collapsed into a corner piled with oak barrels. He gripped the handle of the dagger embedded in his shoulder. With a forceful tug, he pulled it out, sending a long trail of blood splattering onto the ground.

“Damn it…”

A curse escaped alongside his labored breath. Overwhelmed by the lingering pain, Edwin panted heavily.

On his way here, fleeing the capital, he had killed six pursuers. The last one who had been chasing him either lost track of him or retreated to report back—he could no longer sense their presence.

But just because he couldn’t feel any pursuit didn’t mean he could let his guard down. Resting his head against the cold wall, Edwin gazed with blurred vision at the night sky, which showed no trace of stars. He looked as though he might pass out at any moment, yet he stubbornly refused to close his eyes.

He couldn’t die in a place like this. His bloodshot eyes, still brimming with a sharp edge of killing intent, glimmered faintly red. As if the night would never end, the endless dark gradually gave way to a faintly glowing dawn.

Grasping his wounded shoulder with his left hand, Edwin forced himself to stand. His teeth clenched on their own, and his fingertips trembled slightly under the crushing pain and exhaustion that weighed on his entire body.

He hadn’t slept for days, and both his mind and body had long reached their limits. Yet he pressed on, driven by an obsessive compulsion to get as far from this place as possible.

How long had he walked, constantly wary of his surroundings? Eventually, a shabby-looking wagon came into view. It was still early morning, and there was no one around. He climbed under the wagon’s tarp and settled into the empty space behind the pile of cargo boxes.

“…Hah… hah…”

Cold sweat dripped down his temples, clinging briefly to the sharp edge of his jaw before falling. Grimacing, his crimson-stained eyes flickered as he glanced downward. His long legs stuck awkwardly out from beyond the pile of cargo.

It was a cramped space, ill-suited to hiding the body of a grown man. But the issue didn’t last long. His legs began to shrink. His entire frame started to grow smaller, his physique gradually transforming until he had taken on the appearance of a young boy.

‘It won’t wear off for a while.’

Even if someone discovered him, no one would suspect that a child was a murderer upon seeing this form. Grimacing in discomfort at the baggy clothes hanging loosely on his frame, the boy’s expression softened before his eyes lost focus, and he collapsed unconscious.

Time passed, and gradually, people began emerging from their homes. Two men approached the wagon where Edwin lay hidden. One was a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, and the other was a younger man, likely in his early twenties.

“Hey, Philip. Double-check to make sure none of the cargo is missing,” said the older man.

“Got it, sir!” Philip, the younger man, replied.

While the older man brought three horses and hitched them to the wagon, Philip walked to the back of the wagon. Pulling aside the tarp, he quickly scanned its contents.

“All clear! Let’s get moving.”

With that shout, the wagon jolted to life, rattling along the dirt road.

*

When Edwin regained consciousness, a significant amount of time had passed. He awoke to the grating sound of raised voices. The wagon had come to a complete stop, and several of the cargo boxes that should have been shielding him were missing.

Through the open tarp, he could see the two men standing just outside. Edwin’s dark eyes darted around cautiously, assessing the situation.

“I’m telling you, I already checked everything!” Philip protested indignantly, raising his voice.

As Philip turned his gaze toward the tarp, his eyes met a pair of sharp, glowing eyes peering out from the shadows. Startled, he let out a small sound, “Ah…” before the older man followed his gaze and turned to look.

“Hey, kid! Where the hell did you come from?” the older man barked.

The boy didn’t respond. The older man bombarded him with questions, but he remained silent, his expression blank and unmoving.

“Where’s your home? Your parents? …Hah, what a mess we’ve got here,” the older man grumbled.

“Maybe he can’t talk?” Philip suggested.

“Seems like it. Judging by the state of him, he’s probably an escaped slave. But why’d he have to sneak onto our wagon of all things? I just hope we’re not getting tangled up in some trouble.”

“Oh, come on, he’s just a kid. At least he’s alive, not a corpse,” Philip said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Alive or not, this is no blessing!”

The middle-aged man, who had been on the verge of smacking the younger Philip in frustration, begrudgingly climbed up onto the wagon. He wanted to examine the child’s condition more closely.

The boy’s clothes were soaked in blood. He appeared injured, but the dim light inside the wagon made it hard to discern the exact nature of the wounds. Lifting the boy into his arms, the man carried him outside.

In the open air, the child’s state was far worse than expected. Blood had soaked through his shirt and sleeve, stemming from a wound on his right shoulder.

The sight of the injury gave the man a foreboding sense of unease. While he intended to take the boy to the next village, the thought of him dying along the way posed a problem.

“We’d better patch him up, at least a little,” he muttered. “Philip, grab the medicine kit from the wagon.”

“Yes, sir!” Philip quickly clambered into the wagon. As he rummaged for supplies, the boy stood eerily still under the crimson glow of the setting sun, silently observing the two men.

It was then that the men felt an unsettling chill. There was something unnervingly unchildlike about the boy. Suddenly, his jet-black eyes shifted, their color bleeding into an ominous red in just a few seconds.

The middle-aged man was abruptly struck by an immense pressure weighing down on his entire body. It felt as though a massive boulder had been dropped onto his back. His legs trembled before a sickening crack echoed—the bones in his knees twisted grotesquely, bending in unnatural directions.

“AAAAAARGH!!” His screams tore through the air, raw and anguished.

He opened his eyes and realized the boy was now standing right in front of him. A small hand reached out, touching his chest. The instant it made contact, an overwhelming surge of pain coursed through him. Choking and frothing at the mouth, the man collapsed lifelessly, his head thudding into the dirt.

Edwin turned his gaze toward the wagon’s interior. Philip, who had witnessed the entire scene, was frozen in terror. The medicine kit slipped from his trembling hands, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto the floor, scrambling backward in panic.

In that moment, Philip regretted not having fled earlier. Inside the dark wagon, the boy’s crimson eyes gleamed like dripping blood, their gaze piercing through him.

“P-please… spare me,” Philip croaked, his voice strangled by fear. Desperate to save himself, he begged for mercy.

Edwin approached him with the same deliberate calm. His small hand reached out and touched Philip’s chest, directly over his heart. From there, Edwin drained every ounce of magical energy residing within it.

“This still isn’t enough,” Edwin muttered to himself, leaving the lifeless body behind as he stepped back outside.

His crimson eyes shifted toward the horses tethered nearby, now agitated and snorting nervously. The shadow cast by his small frame on the blood-stained ground suddenly stretched unnaturally long, darkening the atmosphere further.

Returning to his adult form, Edwin began absorbing the life force of the horses one by one, leaving only one alive. The hearts of the drained horses fell eerily silent, as though completely hollowed out. Standing amidst the lifeless animals, Edwin raised his head, sensing a disturbance.

With a loud crack, fragments of rock began tumbling down. Moments later, massive boulders came crashing from the cliffside above, hurtling directly onto the wagon and the corpses. The thunderous noise of the impact was accompanied by a rising cloud of dust, and the lone surviving horse thrashed wildly, panicked by the chaos.

Edwin glanced down at the blood pooling at his feet, his expression void of emotion. He raised his crimson eyes and willed his power to act. Instantly, the horse’s frantic movements ceased, as if its legs were bound by invisible chains.

Calmly stroking the horse’s mane, Edwin mounted it with ease. The tough leather reins connecting the horse to the wagon snapped effortlessly, like strands of hair. With a sudden push off the ground, the horse galloped into the distance.

Riding deep into the darkened mountains, Edwin pressed on, despite his body’s desperate need for rest after days of relentless exertion. Stopping was not an option—he needed to travel as far as possible to avoid being tracked.

The grueling journey stretched on without pause. When the exhausted horse finally collapsed, Edwin continued on foot. He walked tirelessly, stopping only briefly to rest, and he ate nothing the entire way.

After crossing a vast mountain range, he eventually reached a forested area that seemed untouched by human presence. Pushing through grass that reached up to his ankles, Edwin came upon a narrow dirt path. It wasn’t a deliberately made road; rather, it seemed to have formed naturally from repeated travel.

Using his magic, Edwin swiftly transformed back into the form of a child. Following the path, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a small mansion nestled in the heart of the forest.

His red eyes, brimming with an ominous energy, scanned the mansion. Quietly, he made his way to the back of the house. There, a modestly dressed woman with brown hair tied up was hanging laundry.

Just as Edwin prepared to move his magic silently, he froze.

“Bessie, is dinner ready?” called a clear, melodic voice, halting Edwin’s actions. His gaze shifted toward the source of the sound.

Standing under the bright sunlight was a young woman. Her voice matched her delicate appearance: she was pale from head to toe, as though she had stepped out of a painting. She wore a long white dress that fell below her knees, and her light golden hair shimmered, as if it might dissolve into the sunlight at any moment.

“Almost done, miss,” replied the woman called Bessie.

The golden-haired woman approached the brunette cautiously, standing by her side as though sneaking up. Then, as if committing a small act of theft, she quietly pulled a piece of laundry from the basket. She had just begun to hang it on the line when the brunette spoke.

“I know you’re sneaking around.”

“Just trying to help a little. It’ll finish faster this way,” the golden-haired woman replied.

“Still, you shouldn’t.”

“Alright, then. I’ll wait until you’re done,” she said with a small smile.

Watching this exchange, Edwin quickly realized that the brunette was blind. His eyes instinctively followed the golden-haired woman as she moved away.

Grabbing another few garments, she walked to the end of the line to hang them. Yet, the sharp hearing of the blind woman caught her actions.

“Miss! You’re hanging the laundry again, aren’t you?”

“Sorry! Just this last one, and I promise I’ll stop,” the golden-haired woman replied, her laughter as innocent as her actions.

As she turned her head, Edwin found himself staring at her face. He hadn’t meant to, but their eyes met.

“…A child?” she murmured, startled.

“Miss?” the brunette, Bessie, paused her work, puzzled by the unusual tone in her voice. Meanwhile, the golden-haired woman, whose name was Linia, took a tentative step toward Edwin.

“Bessie, there’s a child here. And… they’re covered in blood.”

Linia’s expression turned to one of shock as she took in the small figure before her. The child—disheveled, filthy, and with bloodstains dried on their hair and clothes—looked utterly pitiful.

Her lips pressed together as if she might grimace, but she softened her expression, likely to avoid frightening the child further. She crouched slightly, her voice calm and kind.

“Are you hurt? What’s your name?”

“……”

Edwin gazed silently at the woman who had lowered herself to his eye level, her soft green eyes meeting his with a warmth and freshness that reminded him of spring.

“My name is Linia,” she said gently. “The woman over there is Bessie, and there’s another person inside named Sophie. It’s just the three of us here, so you don’t need to be afraid.”

If her words were true, the mansion was home to only three women, all seemingly weak. One of them was blind. Hidden deep within the forest, the house seemed unlikely to attract outsiders. It was an ideal place to rest and recover until his body healed.

“We were just about to eat. If you’re okay with it, would you like to join us?” Linia offered, her tone warm and inviting.

After a moment’s hesitation, Edwin reached out with his small hand and grabbed the hem of her dress. He calculated that by playing the role of a wounded, pitiful child, he could secure their care and protection.

Suppressing all traces of malice, Edwin raised his black eyes to meet hers. He parted his lips and, imitating the young man he had killed a few days prior, let out a plea.

“P… please… save me.”

His voice, hoarse and strained from fatigue, cracked unintentionally. It sounded desperate and frightened, even to his own ears.

*