Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 161
Gemma was standing in front of her house, crying because her cousins had taken her ball. It was a precious toy her brother had secretly brought home from his work outside because today was her birthday.
But the mischievous boys didn’t understand her feelings at all. They saw the ball, yelled in excitement, and took it, tossing it back and forth in the narrow gaps between houses. Gemma was only five, with short legs that couldn’t keep up with the nimble boys. She cried until her voice was hoarse.
Right now, all the adults in the house were working, and no one was around to comfort her.
Exhausted from crying, Gemma sniffled and walked in the direction her cousins had gone, hoping to get her ball back. But she was too short and kept her head down, wiping away tears. After only a few steps, she bumped into someone and nearly fell on her bottom.
Fortunately, the person reacted quickly and caught her.
“What’s wrong?” Eugene looked at the tiny, frail child, who was so light he could lift her with one hand.
He judged from her yellowish hair tied into a small braid that she was a girl and gently steadied her.
Kids on Paradise Island, regardless of their age, were always dressed in drab colors. Parents who were particular would sew belts for them, while others just looked like they were wrapped in rags. They were all malnourished and skin and bones, so figuring out their appearance required some skill.
Gemma didn’t have any concept of strangers and tearfully said, “Aruna took my ball,” but her accent and the way she was sobbing made it hard for Eugene to understand her. He only knew that as soon as he put her down, she would run off, and after only a few steps, she would almost fall again. He quickly stepped forward to pick her up again.
“Walk slowly,” Eugene said. His accent in the local dialect had improved significantly over the past few days. Gemma understood him and didn’t run anymore, grabbing onto Eugene’s pants instead.
Was she trying to guilt-trip him?
Eugene was afraid that pulling away too forcefully might break the child’s bones, so he let her lead him forward while he tried to ask questions. “Where’s your mother? Grandpa and grandma? Where are the adults in your family?”
He had just switched shifts with Shiloh, who was monitoring Aquinas, and wanted to take a nap. He didn’t want to waste his time on this little blonde girl.
With an adult’s leg to hold onto, Gemma walked more steadily. Whether she didn’t understand Eugene’s questions or just ignored them, she didn’t answer and instead led him to the main road.
Not far away, several boys, around seven or eight, were playing noisily, throwing a ball back and forth. There was no spacious area for them to play on Paradise Island, so they gathered near the main road. Some lazy idlers took advantage of the good weather to lie around sunbathing. Eugene understood, from the little girl’s fixed gaze, that she wanted the ball.
“Is that yours?” Eugene asked, realizing.
“Gemma’s ball,” Gemma replied immediately.
It wasn’t really a toy, but more of a decoration. The kids were making a lot of noise. Eugene squinted to get a better look and finally recognized it as a cross globe, a decoration left over from some party. These kinds of cheap trinkets could be found in the city’s trash bins all the time.
Eugene was considering whether to save time and forcibly take the ball from the boys when he saw a four-wheeled carriage approaching from the end of the road. The horses pulling it were well-fed and looked more spirited than the lazy idlers by the roadside.
This was the main road, so carriages coming and going were not unusual, except this one stopped near the Paradise Island side.
The coachman, wearing a soft felt hat, leaned out to confirm the location, then spoke to someone inside the carriage and jumped down.
Eugene instinctively took two steps back, hiding half of his body in the shadow of a building distorted by makeshift constructions.
Gemma was also somewhat shy (mostly afraid of “people from outside in fancy clothes”). Seeing Eugene back off, she immediately stopped watching her ball and quickly hid behind him, peeking out.
The mischievous boys reacted quickly, scattering like a flock of frightened sparrows before the carriage even stopped.
“As if anyone wants to touch them,” Ricky sneered, disdainful of the scattering kids.
Pendrel leaned out the carriage window, watching the coachman struggle to drag Jason out of the carriage. The coachman was smaller than Jason and took a long time to succeed. Finally, out of strength, he roughly pushed Jason’s body to the roadside and called out to some people lying nearby.
“Look and see who this is,” the coachman said, though he was deferential to the people inside the carriage. He was arrogant towards the slow-moving onlookers, stepping back exaggeratedly as if afraid their lice would jump on him. “If you know him, drag him inside. If not, leave him here to rot.”
Jason’s face was swollen beyond recognition. A few onlookers whispered among themselves, unsure if it was him.
“This looks like Jason, doesn’t it?”
“But it can’t be… Jason is strong.”
“Why was he sent back by a city carriage?”
“Is he dead?”
“What happened?”
Ricky and his group had intended to leave, but Pendrel noticed something odd: more people were gathering around Jason, whispering and even squatting down to try and wake him.
“Hey.” Pendrel sat up. “It seems this guy might be someone important.”
Pendrel and the others leaned out to look, locking eyes with one of the men who had just raised his head. The man’s hair and beard were a mess, making him look like any other lazy idler waiting to die, but the moment he locked eyes with Pendrel, a shiver ran down his spine.
But when the man saw the people in the carriage, he immediately looked down again. That moment of coldness felt like an illusion.
Originally, they had planned to dump Jason and leave, especially since they all had visible injuries, and it was undignified to be seen in public. Their hastily prepared carriage didn’t have the usual powders to cover their wounds, so none of them wanted to leave the carriage. But seeing the crowd gather and realizing Jason seemed to be respected, Ricky and the others sensed an opportunity. What better way to assert authority than to crush someone else’s?
Suddenly, their pain seemed to vanish. Ignoring their bleeding wounds, they got off the carriage. The crowd instinctively made way.
They didn’t want to speak directly to the onlookers. Ricky gave the coachman a look, and he quickly understood.
“What’s this man’s name? What’s his status?” the coachman asked loudly.
To his surprise, no one answered. The man who had met Pendrel’s gaze before said quietly, “Sir, what crime did he commit to deserve such punishment?”
The coachman hesitated, glancing at the group. Ricky and Pendrel exchanged looks, realizing none of them could answer. White Bridge had its laws, but Pendrel and his companions’ only duty was serving their young masters. Few had studied the laws seriously, much less memorized the offenses this man might have committed.
“You know him?” Ricky asked, tilting his chin, observing the man’s straight posture despite squatting. He looked like he could be a good enforcer.
The man he held was barely breathing, his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. He looked through Jason’s tattered coat to find a shirt with only the front intact, the collar marked with hesitant strokes spelling “Jason” in ink.
This was a word Eugene had taught him in their first lesson. Like many beginners, Jason had practiced repeatedly to remember, writing it on his few belongings.
“His name is Jason,” Eugene said.
There was a collective gasp, and the crowd grew restless. Jason’s Brotherhood members were still working, but his reputation on Paradise Island wasn’t just from the Brotherhood. He was known for his kindness and integrity, having helped many honest residents. Even Eugene, who had initially felt out of place, quickly became close to Jason, willing to help him by lending him decent clothes and leading him into the city to find his brother.
Eugene’s knees scraped the ground, pebbles digging into his flesh. He needed the pain to stay calm.
“Oh, he has a name,” Pendrel sneered. “It’s a shame. If he’d told us his name two hours ago, none of this would have happened.”
“What happened?”
“He offended us,” Pendrel said impatiently. “That’s his crime. Are you his brother? Kneel and apologize for him, and we’ll call it even.”
He genuinely thought he was being magnanimous. Even Ricky and the others looked at him disapprovingly, but Pendrel was intrigued by this man. He felt his gang always needed fresh blood.
Having gotten his answer, Eugene stopped looking at them.
He had been a bandit for years, been hurt, and hurt others. During the worst years, he had seen his mentor beaten to death—their face swollen like Jason’s, colorful bruises, but their lips and cheeks were pale, with blood seeping from their mouth.
He knew such injuries meant severe internal damage. Jason, in this state, even an elven king couldn’t heal him.
“Hey, didn’t you hear me?” Pendrel tapped his cane on the ground.
Eugene stayed silent. The crowd around them also grew quiet. Eugene cradled Jason’s neck with one hand, the other hanging by his side. Hidden under his old coat was a long knife, almost as long as a short sword.
Hasting had taught him to keep the blade sharp enough to bring down a man with one strike.
All he needed to do was raise his wrist and pull it out…
Plop.
A strange noise.
Everyone’s attention shifted: a round metal ball the size of a baby’s head had hit Pendrel and rolled to Ricky’s feet.
It was a cross globe. A skinny boy with big eyes stood among the adults, looking up stubbornly and angrily, just like his brothers around him.
The author has something to say:
A cross globe seems to have several names. It’s the round ball that accompanies a scepter in medieval paintings. Gemma’s is plain, picked up by an adult to pacify a child.
I love adding little details that don’t affect the plot if unnoticed. Some attentive readers often spot them, and their comments make me very happy.
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