By the time Oboro set off to return to his residence, night had already fallen.
He once again arrived at the slums. Under the cover of darkness, the figures on the streets were even more numerous than during the day.
All sorts of people, good and bad alike, appeared one after another.
Several men acted without restraint, kicking open doors one after another and dragging away young boys and girls... In this chaotic world, human lives were worth money, especially those of children—even if they were born into poverty.
These men were human traffickers by trade.
Girls would be sold to brothels or noble households, while boys were sent to various organizations or clans to be trained from childhood as loyal assassins.
Their parents stood by and watched.
Passersby were so accustomed to such sights that they paid them no mind.
Not far away, a drunkard was brutally beating and abusing his wife with shocking violence.
Chiyoko and Rina, standing beside Oboro, wore complex expressions... as if these people were more terrifying than ghosts.
Oboro paid no heed to the scenes around him and continued forward with steady steps.
Upon seeing him, people on both sides immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed respectfully.
The appearance of a figure of Oboro's status in the pleasure quarters was major news.
Even nobles of moderate standing would never set foot in such areas, deeming them beneath their dignity.
When Oboro had visited the pleasure quarters half a year earlier, it had caused quite a stir in the area.
Now, as people nearby caught sight of him, they whispered among themselves.
This time, he was traveling on foot rather than being carried in a palanquin.
After rounding a street corner, the noise faded away. The surroundings grew quiet, and all that met the eye were scattered candlelights, rows of low huts, and darkness so thick one could not see their hand in front of their face.
Due to the limitations of the era and the extreme poverty of the people living here, the main street of the slums was the only place that bustled with activity at night. Everywhere else was as silent as the grave.
The residents of the slums lived in simple wooden shacks.
The walls were so thin that two or three strong adults could easily push them over.
Ordinary citizens lived in small courtyards—modest, perhaps, but at least enclosed by walls... Thus, the easiest way to tell if one was in the slums was to look at the sides of the road: if there were no continuous walls, you were there. Those of higher status—what ordinary people called nobles—resided in grand mansions with imposing gates.
Great figures like Oboro disdained living within the city limits. Their residences were usually situated in scenic, beautiful locations, standing alone with no other buildings nearby.
Each occupied its own vast expanse of land.
In places like the slums, under the cloak of night, the darkest corners were where the most "unspeakable deeds" took place.
These acts were far more morally repugnant than even the disturbing scenes visible on the main streets.
"Hmm?"
Oboro stopped in his tracks as he reached the entrance to a narrow alleyway.
He smelled blood.
Someone was hurt...
From the alley, several men emerged.
One of them was carrying a small dog by the scruff of its neck. Judging by its size, it was likely less than a year old—thin, emaciated, and clearly injured, with blood seeping from multiple wounds.
"Haha... tonight we'll have meat to eat," one of them laughed.
"It's been ages since I last tasted meat," another chimed in gleefully.
"Please... please let it go... I'll give you money..."
A figure, covered in bruises and cuts, stumbled out from the alley behind them. But his injuries were too severe. After taking just a few steps, he collapsed to the ground and dragged himself forward, his voice trembling with tears as he begged.
"Get lost!"
The man holding the dog grew annoyed that the boy was still conscious. He picked up a stone and hurled it hard at the boy's forehead.
Only when he saw the boy lying motionless did he snort in contempt and hurry away with his companions.
"Who's there?"
But the three men froze when they saw Oboro and his two attendants standing there. They were visibly startled.
Oboro's gaze passed over them and settled on the boy lying in a pool of blood at the alley entrance.
He remembered this boy... Half a year ago, when he had walked this street, he had given him some coins. His name was Sawakaze, if he recalled correctly.
At the time, he had warned the boy: "Possessing something valuable when you have no power to protect it is a crime in itself."
A dog?
Oboro glanced at the small dog in the man's hand.
In this era, keeping a dog was a luxury few could afford. Even ordinary families struggled to feed themselves, let alone spare food for an animal.
Only the wealthy and powerful could keep dogs as pets. Oboro knew exactly what had happened. For a dog to appear in the lawless slums of the pleasure quarters, its fate was sealed—it would end up as food.
After all, most people here could barely afford to eat...
And it was precisely because of this dog that the boy had become a target.
In the dim light, the three men could not make out Oboro's fine clothing, but they noticed two attractive women standing beside him.
Just as they began to entertain malicious thoughts, Oboro stepped closer.
When they finally caught sight of his luxurious robes—and more importantly, the distinctive black haori worn only by officials of the Magistrate's Office—their faces turned pale with terror.
"M-My Lord..."
Cold sweat streamed down their faces as they stammered in fear.
They had just committed a crime, only to run straight into a representative of the law.
How could they not be afraid?
Thud!
Oboro did not waste a single word. He simply walked past the men, who had fallen to their knees in terror.
Instantly, the three bodies were sent flying through the air, accompanied by the sickening sound of bones breaking.
Oboro knelt down, picked up the lifeless body of the small dog, and walked over to the boy.
"It's dead," he said softly, placing the animal beside him.
At the sound of his voice, the boy—who had appeared unconscious—trembled slightly. His fingers twitched, and slowly, he opened his eyes, regaining a flicker of consciousness.
"It's... you..."
"Thank you..."
With great effort, the boy raised a trembling hand and stroked the dog's cold fur, tears welling up in his eyes.
Then, he lifted his head and looked up at Oboro, his voice weak and breathless. Clearly, he remembered the kind noble who had helped him before.
"Why... why..." he whispered hoarsely.
"Was this dog... family to you?" Oboro asked gently.
"Yes," Sawakaze replied, his eyes empty and lifeless.
"You're dying too," Oboro said plainly.
The boy said nothing, continuing to stroke the dog's body.
"Do you feel wronged?"
"..."
"Why is this world so full of injustice? Why can human nature be so selfish and cruel?"
Oboro crouched down beside him.
"If you had been born elsewhere—if you had wealth and status—this never would have happened. You could have stayed together forever."
"But not everyone is born with privilege or power."
"People are capable of good and evil alike. Yet it is those like you who suffer the worst of humanity's cruelty."
The boy listened intently, his dull eyes shifting to look up at Oboro.
"They are sick... this entire world is sick. Every life, every bond, deserves to be cherished and respected. But from the moment you were born, all you have ever known is suffering and cruelty. Humans are meant to be creatures of emotion—so why have so many become so cold and heartless?"
"These people... this world... it all needs to be 'saved'."
"Being born in the pleasure quarters was not your choice, nor is it your fault. Your love for this dog was pure and true—and that is not wrong either. The fault lies with them, and with this broken world they have created."
"They do not understand... the world does not understand..."
"If the world is wrong," Oboro said, his voice steady and resolute, "then we must break it down and build a new one—one governed by justice and order."
"I could save both you and the dog. But to truly protect what matters to you... we must reshape the world. We must rid it of those who are rotten to the core. For as long as they remain, this world will never be anything but ugly and cruel..."
"You have done nothing wrong. Nor did it."
Oboro smiled gently and held out his hand toward the boy.
"Will you join me... in setting this world right?"
____________________
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