TPA 08

Chapter 8

The Gourmet’s Table (3)

“Why are you doing this?”

Ul frowned, asking as if he truly couldn’t understand. The answer that came back was simple and clear.

“Because it’s my job.”

“No, I mean—why you?”

“Because this is what I do. It’s what I’ve always done, and what I’m supposed to do.”

Ah. Right.

Why was she a hunter, anyway? Of all things, the human woman who had saved his life happened to have a profession that involved dealing with beastkin. He didn’t like it.

It wasn’t because he was beastkin.

It was because he knew exactly how dangerous that work was.

“Aren’t there already people assigned to this case? They’ll handle it.”

“When my leave ends and I go back to work, I’ll be assigned to it anyway.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m one hundred percent sure this case involves beastkin.”

“So you’re saying you’ll throw away the rare rest you’ve been given and jump straight into digging into a case you’re going to handle anyway.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not asking you to understand, you know?”

Misa turned and started walking off somewhere. Ul followed with an annoyed expression.

“Where are you going?”

“To check the investigation logs. You go home first. I’ll just take a look and come straight back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Are you insane? You expect me to take you into a place crawling with hunters? Go back before you stand out.”

Ul stopped walking.

He stared at her retreating back.

“You’ve got a rough road ahead.”

He had a bad feeling.

That excessive enthusiasm and unshakable conviction reminded him far too much of someone he knew.

Having seen firsthand how blind faith and passion could destroy a person, it was only natural for him to feel uneasy.

And besides—

“She doesn’t know beastkin at all.”

Charging around like that, ignorant and reckless, was no different from throwing herself into a fire pit.

Humans could not stand against beastkin. Humans might believe they were fighting back with weapons and organizations of their own making, but they were wrong.

“The real ones don’t reveal themselves.”

The ones who truly needed to be killed—the truly dangerous ones—hid among humans, wearing human skin, never showing themselves openly.

They were on a completely different level from the idiots rampaging openly.

Yet humans didn’t even realize that these were their true enemies, the foes that had to be eliminated.

Even now, when they should have been on high alert.

A long time had passed since then. Many more and many different beastkin must have been born into the world by now.

They might already have sunk their roots so deep into human society that it was beyond repair.

If Rena were still alive—if her ambition hadn’t changed—then the end awaiting humanity would be nothing short of annihilation.

By the time Misa returned from the Investigation Bureau, night had already fallen and darkness had settled in.

Normally, she might have been spotted by Glam and kicked out, but fortunately he was away. That allowed her to secretly check the investigation logs.

If Glam had known, he would have forcibly sent her home.

Telling her to stay put and rest.

“Officially, ten people are listed as missing, but when I checked closely, it’s actually fifteen. Five of them are children whose parents requested the investigation be kept confidential.”

Ul quietly chewed on his feed, listening without comment.

He looked just as unconcerned as ever.

“Some kids were abducted on the streets during the day, but others disappeared at night while sleeping at home.”

After checking the logs, she was even more convinced that beastkin were behind the incident.

This wasn’t something an ordinary human could do.

To have the ability—and the audacity—to kidnap children from their homes while they slept? That pointed far more toward beastkin.

“The problem is that the crime pattern is irregular. Four days ago, it was Sonar District 1. Three days ago, Romanze District 6 in the north. Today, it was unexpectedly Genatsville District 1.”

Ul glanced at the map of the capital laid out before them and replied in a flat voice.

“The distances are definitely extreme.”

“Right? In a single day, children disappeared from cities on opposite ends. It has to be multiple perpetrators, doesn’t it? One person couldn’t manage that. So where did all those kids go? The city gates are under control—they shouldn’t have been able to leave the capital.”

“They’re probably all gathered in one place.”

“Inside the capital?”

“I doubt that.”

“But is it even possible to take that many kids out of the capital? That seems impossible.”

“It’s not completely impossible.”

Ul formed a small circle with his thumb and index finger.

“You humans can make almost anything happen with money.”

Misa narrowed her eyes and sat down next to him.

“That’s a discriminatory remark.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong.”

“Ugh. Not all humans are that ignorant, you know?”

“No. You’re just too gentle in how you see the world.”

“….”

“Beastkin running rampant are just drawing attention away. In truth, your kind is overflowing with truly vile individuals.”

Misa wanted to dismiss it as an absurd generalization, yet she couldn’t bring herself to argue.

A chill ran down her spine. Somehow, his words felt disturbingly plausible.

Children were continuing to disappear—fifteen in just one week. And realistically, smuggling them all out of the capital should have been impossible.

So were they hiding inside the capital?

No—unless they were idiots, that made no sense. Authorities were scouring the city. If the children were still inside, they would’ve been found by now.

The capital’s security forces were the strongest in the empire.

Did that mean someone helped smuggle them out?

To do that, they’d have to pass through one of the four gates—east, west, south, or north.

If they were colluding with the gatekeepers, leaving the capital wouldn’t be entirely impossible.

“We need to check the West Gate.”

“Now?”

“It’s the only gate that stays open at night. Merchants use it.”

There was a curfew here.

After 10 p.m., people couldn’t roam the streets, and all gates except the West Gate were closed.

Security patrols constantly roamed the streets, making nighttime wandering impossible for ordinary citizens. Only a few exceptions were allowed.

Merchants often set out before dawn, so they were permitted to move during curfew hours.

The West Gate—used exclusively by merchants—was the only gate open at night. Wagons carrying goods passed through constantly.

If the children had been smuggled out, the West Gate was by far the most likely route.

“I don’t understand,” Ul said.

“What?”

“Your excessive sense of duty. That overwhelming zeal.”

“While I’m eating, sleeping, and resting, someone else out there might be in danger. Someone might desperately need help. Another child might have already disappeared.”

“No matter how hard you try, those meant to die will die.”

She snapped her head around and glared at him.

“Don’t say it so lightly.”

“……”

“So what—you’re saying it’s pointless to try because they’re going to die anyway? By that logic, since humans die eventually, it doesn’t matter how they die. Murder, torture—it’s all the same, right?”

Everyone said it.

Don’t struggle so foolishly.

No matter how hard hunters tried to stop beastkin killings, there were limits to human power. Those meant to die would die anyway.

They told her to be careful. To stop sticking her neck out. To stop caring so much about other people.

“Knowing someone might die and turning away is different from knowing it and still trying to save them.”

Misa stood up and picked up her hunter identification.

“I hate that kind of irresponsible talk more than anything.”

“Hm.”

“When my mother was killed by beastkin, if someone capable had been there to help her, she might have lived.”

Ul fell silent as he watched her prepare to leave.

So that’s it… a childhood compulsion.

Now he understood.

Why she was so obsessed with this work.

Perhaps the belief that she might be able to save someone had transformed into a sense of responsibility toward others.

“Let’s go together.”

It bothered him.

Her behavior bothered him deeply.

He couldn’t even begin to guess how much danger it would invite in the future.

He was worried—but he had no right to suppress her convictions or stop her actions.

If he couldn’t stop her—

“Then as your protector, I’ll go with you.”

“Protector, my ass.”

Then all he could do was make sure she didn’t get hurt.

Make sure she didn’t die.

Make sure the same thing never happened again.

He hadn’t found this lifeline just to let it slip away so easily.

“Wasn’t it annoying? Following me around? If you’re going to complain, don’t come.”

“It’s not annoying.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m worried you’ll get hurt.”

Misa flinched and stopped. Heat surged up from her throat.

“That you’ll die.”

Ul slowly curled his lips into a smile and stood, walking toward her. Their gazes tangled in midair.

“Getting injured again like last time would be troublesome.”

That was all.

That gentle smile, that low voice brushing against her ear—Misa felt every nerve in her body go taut.

She knew it wasn’t affection, only necessity.

But her foolish body still reacted to those words.

“W-what are you saying? I can protect myself.”

“I’m talking about preparing for when you can’t.”

Ever since her mother died, she’d been alone.

She was afraid of depending on someone, so she always chose solitude. Depending on someone only made you weaker.

Was that why—

Why she found herself strangely leaning on this man who wasn’t even human?

“Enough. Just hurry up and go.”

Maybe she had been lonely all along.

Maybe she had wanted to rely on someone, deep down. That was why her heart reacted so violently.

Misa steadied herself and turned away.

Trying not to be conscious of Ul following behind her.

Children were dragged in one after another and locked behind iron bars.

The adults already inside looked at them with pity at first, but soon turned away.

They had no room to worry about anyone else. They knew that once imprisoned here, they would eventually be slaughtered.

No one could leave this place alive.

If they died, their bodies would be dragged out and thrown to beasts as feed. If they fell ill, they were deemed inedible meat—and killed all the same.

No one could be allowed to survive, because the truth of this place must never be revealed.

The lord of this castle delighted in eating children’s flesh. Occasionally, he sampled women or men as well.

All the captives could do was repeatedly attempt suicide through self-harm—or cower in corners, praying not to be chosen as the day’s ingredient.

“Waaah! Mommy!”

The newly arrived children didn’t yet understand where they were. One child began crying for his mother.

Others soon joined in.

“How noisy.”

“Welcome, my lord.”

Epicure, the master of the castle, had come down to the breeding grounds after a long time.

Seeing the abundance of fresh, young ingredients, his lips were curved in a constant smile.

“I want my mom! Mommy!”

“You miss your mother? Shall I let you see her?”

His voice was gentle, almost tender—but the people watching turned pale.

“Please take me to her. I want my mom.”

“Of course. It would be best for you to see her. If you go on ahead and wait, won’t your mother come looking for you?”

“Go? Where?”

Epicure bent down to meet the child’s eye level.

Then he pointed up at the sky.

“There.”

“The sky?”

“It’s where the dead go. If you die first and go up there to wait, your mother will die later and come meet you.”

Straightening up, Epicure gave an order to his butler, Rashur.

“We’ll have this one for tonight’s meal.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Rashur opened the cage and dragged the child out.

“Shall I prepare it immediately?”

“That would be good. I was just getting hungry.”

It was a conversation far too abnormal to be between two humans.

Sensing something was wrong, the child began screaming. The others lowered their gazes, waiting for the monsters to leave.

When the crying faded and the monsters were gone, people began covering their mouths and sobbing.

Only then did the remaining children understand. They fell silent, trembling in fear.

There was no future here.

All wagons passing through the West Gate were required to submit to inspection.

Since it was a merchant-only route, every item being transported had to be checked.

“It’s already the third day.”

“Are you tired?”

“Not really. I was asking because I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I’m used to stakeouts.”

In truth, she hadn’t expected much from simply waiting.

Committing a crime was easy; tracking it down and solving it was long, complex, and unlikely to succeed.

They were here on the assumption the West Gate was involved—but they didn’t actually know what the perpetrators were doing.

“Maybe we were wrong.”

Ul shook his head.

“No. You were right.”

His gaze fixed on a cargo wagon that had just stopped for inspection.

A tall young man stepped down from it. Ul stared intently and murmured,

“I smell beastkin on that man.”

Misa stiffened at what came next.

“And the scent of several humans, too.”