Inevitably, a sight of something will be forgotten.

  Perhaps not immediately, but will at some point. However it can also reappear randomly due to the brain having dissonance.

  One of those is the present situation and the smugly smiling tourist remembering an old memory.

  However the guide lifted off the ground and wrapped with rope strung tightly pulled on the tourists back felt nothing but wailing emptiness.

  To onlookers it was something akin to a child being kidnapped in broad daylight.

  The tourist hummed whilst searching for a suitable place to enjoy.

  To the dead hazelnut eyes of the guide it was a tune of torture.

  “Left or right o guide?”

  “...”

  As the tourist waited for an answer, they looked both ways. Leaning a bit forward to watch the populace.

  …Who was watching him drag someone like luggage.

  Seemingly undeterred by such looks, the tourist just went a random way.

  Into an alley.

  …Of all places.

  And meshed into the drab undertones of colour while the pink haired guide didn’t.

  The sky is blue.

  Fluffy white shapes not moving yet are.

  …And humming.

  Humming.

  Humming the same, same, same, same–!

  Whatever it is!

  Turning my head, Grey leaned on the tree with their hands on their head and legs crossed. Eyes closed as if savoring something.

  Deceiving is their attention.

  Five times I slipped away.

  …Five times the sky greeted me.

  Somewhere, in a garden.

  The blood on Grey has yet to dry.

  One wrong move and the world is merciless.

  Some rich ass noble quacks place, a dead man who really should be dead, and regret.

  ….

  The clouds are mocking me just like the dead guy humming.

  ‘Lala can’t hear you!’

  Unconsciously I grit my teeth.

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  When I manage to escape this dead man's clutches, favors will be repaid.

  — — — —

  “Understand?”

  He scoffed.

  “Under-stand? I’m sorry but I’m not quite… Intelligent in that regard.”

  “Gurhk–!”

  The bulky man reached out. Yet never reached him.

  Now the bulky man’s face started turning blue.

  “You see, understanding my place and giving things are… not… exactly…” he tightened his grip on the bulky man's neck. “Things I can do. Unfortunately. Very so.”

  He patted his chest with a sad face. Yet that smile didn’t disappear.

  “I’m afraid our ways end here.”

  –Crack!

  The bulky man's body fell.

  Grey stretched and scrutinised the way the bulky man died. The chilly smile gone for a normal expression.

  Saying something under his breath he nodded and turned around. Bending over to pick up the rope.

  Hoisting it tightly over his shoulder.

  The ground stopped connecting to my feet. I couldn’t see his face or what direction he would take.

  What I could see were bodies mangled and those with red ice radiating a bone cold chill.

  Threats were met with a frivolous tone like that of a mocking nobleman’s bastard young master.

  Anyone with a brain would understand and connect the two.

  “Guide! Guide! Know what that is?”

  “...How would I know.”

  He pointed at something I couldn’t see.

  “A statue. Duh.”

  –Grind.

  This bastard…

  “But lucky us! We’re live!”

  He spouted something incomprehensible again.

  “How lucky. Lucky.”

  He stopped to gaze at something I didn’t even try to care to look at.

  “How lucky do you think you are now?”

  “Wretched.”

  “Is it on your side?”

  If it was, I wouldn't be here.

  Why do you care about luck.

  “You’ve been rather silent, guide. How boring.”

  ….

  “But of course! When I was young I was introverted too.”

  What does that mean.

  His arm holding the rope moved and swayed me wholly.

  “Hm but time says everything.”

  He started walking again.

  Saying nothing after that.

  Try anything funny and it’s off with your head.

  Die with your face caved in.

  Welcome boisterously and now you get flayed alive.

  Play the hero and one nick of poison makes you vomit and crumble.

  Death with many blades piercing you.

  Still just a human.

  Feeble, fragile. Susceptible to everything. Even the strongest can be taken down with enough preparation and manpower.

  Old Nick was like that.

  Then how do you explain this?

  The blood seeps out of the alleys purely from infighting.

  The causes vary all the time.

  For a place like this however, it’s at the level of vagrants. With no hearsay or any finesse from them.

  Lack of coordination, pathetic skills.

  Though numbers make up for it.

  With some Akelia’s fingers mixed in.

  My eyes gazed at the head of the dead man.

  Still from here I could not see any expression.

  But it seemed to be the same before.