Chapter 56: 56 Fifty-five words, "Shoot the horn.

--They're laughing at us.

Those were the first words spoken to the crowd of rats without any context.

At the back of the crowd, Wood's thick lips quivered as he ducked for cover. His sister, Cereal, was holding his slightly shaking left hand.

The night in the poorhouse is very dark. The sky is painted black, the only place that becomes lively is the brothel, and the lights that leak out of the Garouamalia are blocked by the walls.

By nature, most of the people are asleep. Normally, most of the people are asleep, covering their ears to the cheers that echo from within the walls.

Today, however, things are a little different. The square in front of the old tavern, where the giant tree sits like a symbol. A single, glowing fire was lit there.

The flames jumped, illuminating his figure in the darkness.

"Well, where should I start? I didn't have much of a plan, actually.

Standing in front of a crowd of people, his body illuminated by fire, he shrugs his shoulders as if he is not very nervous.

"Lugis," the green-robed man said.

He is a strange man, sometimes cunning, sometimes naive, despite his youthful appearance. He was the one who offered to make a contract with Wood and Cereal.

Wood knows what he wants, and what it is. He wants to change the ghetto. He said he was going to paint those walls a different color.

That's why he brought so many people here today. Young and old, male and female, as long as Wood's face was in it.

Wood's legs almost gave out as he ran around the poorhouse, hoping that his plan would work, if only a little.

But the result was obvious.

The looks of boredom on everyone's faces. Faces that said, "I'm not interested.

They hadn't come to hear the story, they were like insects attracted to something bright. They just came because they were told to, because there was a fire. There's no point. That was something Wood understood all too well.

Wood squeezes his hand slightly tighter. Cereal's body jolted for a moment, but it didn't seem to hurt, and she just looked at him curiously. As if to reassure her sister, her cheeks are relaxed and her eyes narrow.

Expectation and disappointment mingle in the air. To Wood, Lugis had saved his sister's life. For that reason, he wants to do everything he can.

But, I'm sure, nothing will change.

If one word can change anything... If my cowardice were to dissipate like a pale mist and my sister's throat were to sound again, I would be so happy.

But that's not possible. It can't happen. The eyelids closed slightly, and Wood's eyes were downcast, as if to avert his gaze from Lugis.

...... I know what you're going to say. You're talking about taking down that wall, aren't you?

The old man, whose beard and hair had grown so long that he could no longer tell where the beard began and the hair ended, spoke in a thin voice.

They call me the Elder. In this place, just living long enough is enough to be recognized. Many of them do not even know if they will live to see tomorrow.

Lugis nodded slowly at the elder's words. Yes, you know exactly what I mean.

I can't do that. ...... That wall has been like that since I was a child, when I first came here. And what can you do with all of us?

Wood's ears perked up as he heard the words.

Wood's ears held on to the words. Yes, that's right. What can we do? We'll just be trampled underfoot.

Yeah, I've been there. Wood grits his teeth. I still can't sleep at night when I think about that scene.

It was youthful indiscretion, gathering the young people of the poorhouse and pretending to be a general. I thought that eventually even the wall would be within my reach. I thought I could do it.

But the reality is different. My sister was taken hostage, the people I thought were my friends betrayed me, and my body spewed out a distorted sound every time the guards beat me. I couldn't even rebel in any way.

I guess I should have died then. Then I could have died bravely. But that didn't happen. My unnecessarily strong body wouldn't let me do that. There was nothing left to be done.

So all that was left was cowardly wood. He can't even save his sister who has lost her voice, he just sits in a tavern shivering.

You're right. I agree with you. I feel like I'm on stage myself, with a vague script.

Lugis spoke as if he were gently taking in the elder's prickly words.

It didn't sound like the words of someone who was making a speech or trying to sway people. It was very ordinary and light in tone.

"How are you doing, old man? How are you doing, old man? "How's life, old man?

It's not much of a topic. It was like an extension of small talk. The elder, with a dubious look in his eyes, formulates his words.

"Yes, we can live. I can live here, even if I have to bang my head on the ground. That's why we're doing this.

Those words said it all. Everything about the poorhouse. It's all right. I can live. I don't want to suffer. I don't want my body or my mind to be strangled any more.

If all I have to do is be miserable, if all I have to do is bend, then so be it. No matter how unjust, no matter how unreasonable, no matter how ridiculous it is to live that way.

The silence of the audience followed the elder's words. In the darkness, it was very quiet. No one, no one, wants to get hurt anymore.

"...... Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I know exactly what you mean, old man. There's nothing left, no dignity, no fighting spirit. It's all been trampled. Yeah, it's been like that all along.

Strangely, the words felt real. Lugis' lips closed. Is this the end? Yes, I suppose so. It has to end eventually. Longer or shorter, the result will be the same. Then the sooner it's over the better.

Wood had just stepped forward to tell them to call it a night.

"Well, at best, there's only one thing left to do...

"Yes.

"Well, at best, the last thing we have left is-- I'd sooner turn the world upside down.

The words that had been forming in her head were broken down into pieces, and she let them out with a sigh.

Anne, that's why I asked the two Fialaerts to prepare in advance. It's just a trick, but it's better than nothing.

But before that. As a starter, I have to do my bit to liven things up. With my tongue. But if I could do that, hardship wouldn't exist and I'd have a much easier life.

I'm the kind of person who's been getting by on tricks my whole life.

I have to tell you what's going on, and I have to do it with words. Make a man's heart beat and squeeze tears from his eyes. Leave that to the minstrels.

This was Alueno's specialty. He could tell a story and inspire an audience while standing on the same side.

Oh, not only did I admire him for what he had done in his past travels, but I now felt a pang of regret that I should have observed him so closely.

They, the denizens of the favelas, are just like I was. They are apathetic, with resignation in their hearts and no power to resist. There's no way you can convince them.

Just like I used to be.

No, wait.

Suddenly, a shadow passed through my mind. A vague, nagging feeling.

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--If it's impossible, then why am I here now?

Sure, they're a carbon copy of what I used to be.

But I'm standing here, right now. Did the words of that shadow, the shadow that once sent me to this time, inspire me?

I pick up from my memory the words that he once spoke to me.

I don't think any of them are much of anything. They were certainly strange, and there was something about them that attracted me. But why? Why did I want to take his hand right there?

Even though it was me, I couldn't come up with a solution. I've tried scrubbing my memory from end to end, and I've asked myself questions, but I can't figure it out.

"You don't have to worry about that, do you?

Gently, a shadow crept back into my mind. A pitch-black figure.

It is as if the shadow that once spoke to you is reappearing in your mind. I had only seen him once before, but he was speaking in a strange way. I couldn't help but be impressed by my own imagination.

Now that you've come out, I hope this shadow can persuade the denizens of the poorhouse.

"Oops, don't think you can count on me. My words are my own. Your word is yours. It's not something you can borrow or lend.

The shadows whispered, as if they saw through my thoughts, which of course they did, because they were in my brain.

Yeah, that's right. If your words could solve everything, I wouldn't have anything to worry about.

I can't help but smile dryly at the ridiculous skit in my own brain. You're in quite a pickle.

And it is not good for us, who are but idols, to lend too much help to others. So, I will only tell you one thing: why you are able to get up and stand here now.

The shadows run around in my head, elated and exaggerated as ever.

But then again, maybe you do know. No one, the one who brought me here. If you're the one who inspired me.

I want to hear it. I don't care if it's false or whatever right now. I just need some insight.

Even though it's a play in my head, my breathing becomes strangely quiet so that I don't miss the voice.

"Well, yeah, that's the thing--

It's...

"At best, the only thing left at the end of the day would be an acrid hatred, wouldn't it?

In the silence, the voice was not as calm as before, but rather a haunting tone of voice. In the silence, instead of the gentle voice of the past, the voice is stirring, and the profile lit by the fire is smiling with raised cheeks.

The old man looks at Lugis as if he is stunned. Wood and Cereal also did not understand the meaning of the words.

Hatred, hatred and resentment. How can that come out?

The flames burst into flames and burned wide. Lugis' shadow grew twisted.

"No thanks, old man. If you want to be a good guy, that's fine too. If you can live without hatred even after your village has been invaded by the Garouamalia and trampled underfoot, you're quite admirable. You're a saint.

I felt a shiver run down my spine.

The hairs on his neck stood on end and his throat gulped down spit. Everyone in the audience, not to mention the elders and the group of rats, choked back their breaths.

Oh, stop. Don't say the rest. I don't want to hear it. The eyes of the audience tell me they don't want to hear it.

"I heard there was a beautiful fishing village near here. They caught fish in the morning and drank at night, not rich, but not poor either. Not rich, but not poor either. It was a good life, though now it's been destroyed to make way for a trading port. That's all right, it's God's will, anyway.

The feeling of nails caressing the depths of my chest. No one wants to touch it. No one wants to remember. A memory shrouded in a dark curtain. Lugis's words roll up the edges of that black curtain.

The flickering flames and their shadows were a fantastic reflection of a man in the darkness.

"Ah, gentlemen. Think back. What lies behind your current predicament, your humiliation?

Again, the tone of voice changes.

It's not the agitated voice from before. It's not the kind of crude voice that forces its way into the depths of your heart. Rather, it is a voice that speaks to you. His language is also orderly.

Lugis' eyes meet Wood's, who is standing against a large tree in the square. A feeling of almost awe seemed to rise from Wood's heels. It ran quickly through his body, stopping his heart for a moment.

Yes, think back. Who robbed you of your dignity, stripped you of your right to live in the sunshine, turned the surrounding villages into wastelands for his own fattening?　--All of them live within the walls, don't they?

With that, Lugis spread his hands and looked up to point at the wall.

It was not a loud voice. It was not a loud voice, but a voice that seemed to creep up from the depths of the earth. A single, unmistakable emotion, hatred, colored the words.

Following Lugis with outstretched arms, like a pack of controlled rats, the audience all looked at the wall behind them.

The thing that has separated us from the people. Something that would never be surpassed. The Great Wall of Galuamaria, a symbol of glory.

"Oh, they've taken everything. From me, from you. I cannot tell you to take them back. I have only one thing to say. Only one.

It was as if the force of the raging flames had taken over Lugis' voice.

The flames spread little by little, spreading sparks of fire. In the hearts of the people, something sticky that seemed to be crawling up from the depths of the earth was opening its eyes.

I'll return it all to the ashes. We'll take from them what they've taken from us. If the Great Satanism they speak of wants equality of souls, let's drag them down to the earth as well.

Those are not words of persuasion. They are not words of understanding. Just a rush of emotion.

His unstoppable hatred. His endless determination for revenge. All of this is transferred to the words and melts into the darkness.

Wood's eyes widened and flickered. His throat was feeling strangely thirsty. Holding his brother's hand, Cereal blinked at the sweat falling from his forehead.

His words had no power. There was no power in his words to shake the audience, or the inhabitants of the poorhouse. Especially when they are the words of one young man. There is only one emotion in words, if there is anything at all.

But there's nothing ...... we can do about that.

A few words escaped the elder. It was like a crushed sob in the pressurized air.

"Oh, look. Listen carefully.

The voice was speaking to him. Slowly, with a hand on the old man's shoulder, Lugis said.

"They're laughing at us.

In the silent darkness, everyone naturally focused all their attention on their ears.

I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it. All this time, I've pretended not to see it. I've pretended not to hear. I've been okay with that. A pack of rats, Wood, Cereal.

It's light inside these walls, day and night. That's the mark of a trading city. Merchants roam the streets by day and rich men revel in their goods by night. And so the money goes around the city again.

Men's voices, women's voices, young people's voices, old people's voices. Their laughter crawls out of the walls. As if celebrating the prosperity of the city. As if everything in this world is happy.

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