The young beggar slipped away, blending with the shadows in the heavy snow. It was not until the next day at noon that the army leader and fifty men broke the door open. They found the shopkeeper frozen like a statue and a small hole in the bathroom wall.
…
The boy wrapped his hands tight to get a little warm and moved through the backstreets, dirty and full of rats, to stay out of the fierce storm on the main roads. The bread he had was now as hard as a rock, cold against his skin, making his blood feel frozen.
But it still smelled good and charming to a sewer rat, also to him.
He, however, didn't eat it; he needed it for tomorrow. Today, he already had eaten the least food to survive.
At the moment, his goal then was so clear; to get back to his place, save the bread, and stay hidden, like a squirrel storing nuts for winter. He had to get back before the storm got worse, otherwise, it might be too late.
He stopped at a crossroads.
Then, he saw two ways: one to his shelter, his 'home', just down this lane, across the bridge. The other way was much farther, to the woman and her baby, the ones he promised to help.
He chose the way home without thinking twice. He regretted his promise so much and was also puzzled as to why he just promised so easily. Why should he care about the woman? It was not his fault if her child was sick, even dead.
Also, since he was urgent to leave the medicine shop and he couldn't read words on the medicine bottles, he got no medicine. Going back would just mean seeing the child die, and he couldn't help. Moreover, what if the woman tried to take his bread? She might hurt him for it, which could be so possible and desperate.
The more he thought about it, the more reasonable he thought it was to leave them. So he turned away from the child's way and walked faster, the sound of his steps in the snow growing louder with increasing urgency…
Snow crunched underfoot. His reason was pushing him to rush back home immediately. The little beggar stood still at the alley's end and the bridge to his shelter was so close to him now.
However, no matter how hard his reason pushed him, his foot couldn't move one more step.
He just knew he should go home. But he found that his feet were seemingly stuck.
He suddenly saw a sad picture in his mind: A woman held her baby close…Snow covered her… The baby's cries cut through the cold… Her little face was hot with fever… The baby's breathing gradually slowed, then finally stopped.
Why did he think and see these scenes?
The beggar boy didn't know.
He only knew that time wouldn't wait for anyone.
The night got darker.
The beggar assumed that surviving in this storm seemed increasingly impossible for the woman and her baby…
The boy lifted his hands which had the shopkeeper's blood on.
But, meanwhile, he also suddenly remembered that there was something soft and precious his hands had experienced.
He'd held the baby before and managed to feed her.
He'd felt her heartbeat and her fever.
His cold and bloody fingers felt a little warm they never experienced and even expected before…
...
He took a really deep and long sigh, which sounded colder than ice and harder than stone. Then, with a sudden strong determination, he rushed towards his destination…
…
The snow kept falling.
At the alley's entrance, the boy was gone. The snowy street was empty and stretched out…
…
Why was he doing this?
The beggar boy couldn't understand why he was moving back to the baby. He was supposed to be safe in his spot, waiting for morning and enjoying his bread.
But anyway, he was running to help them somehow, though he didn't know why and felt puzzled about his decision too.
He ran through the alleys, out of breath, and almost exhausted. But he kept going even faster, looking for the sick baby.
He was breathing harder and almost couldn't breathe in…
...
After rushing a long distance, he got there and looked around where the baby used to be.
…No one was there.
Then, he jumped over things and looked in bins.
They were also not there!?
But he didn't give up and continued his search...
Snow had been falling when he left the baby, but the woman and her baby were seemingly gone completely.
Having Searched for a long time, he was angry at himself for being so silly and felt tricked by them.
He should go home and he was about to leave when… A sword was suddenly pointed at his throat.
The sword's cold blade was sharper than the storm. A big hand covered his mouth and pulled him back into the dark alley…
He was scared. This happened too fast. He couldn't think or get away. In seconds, he was in a corner. Then, a young man's voice, angry and close—
"Kid, did 'the Key' find us? Tell me! Where's he now?"
The voice was strong and difficult to resist and held the boy still.
As the words just fell, another much gentler voice, one he felt familiar, urgently said,
"Byron, wait!"
Then, an elegant young woman with a baby came out. She was relieved after she saw the boy.
"Byron, he's not from 'the Key'. He's just the kid I told you about," she said.
Byron, with the sword, pulled it away from the boy's neck. The boy tried to run, but Byron caught him and threw him back into the snow.
"Kid, you're not with 'The Key', but stay a bit longer," Byron said, holding the boy down easily.
The boy looked at Byron. He was young, with noble clothes but that were strangely dirty and bloody.
He had two swords. One was out, but the other sword was locked up with layers of chains, and it seemed impossible to pull it out.
Moreover, the shape of the handle of this sword was also very strange. The pattern on the hilt looked like human bones, and there was a small round hole in the center. It was in extreme contrast to the noble sword in the man's hand.
The woman with the baby was behind Byron. He put his sword away after she nodded.
"Seen anyone strange around?" Byron asked and showed a bag of small cakes. The smell made the boy's stomach growl fiercely.
The woman smiled kindly and offered a cake to the boy, but he just held his frozen bread without taking a bite and observed them cautiously.