This is the same paper, right? Or am I just imagining things?"
Jorel muttered, his gaze sweeping over the document in Dorl's hands.
He pointed a finger at it. "Heh, what do you mean you don't understand it? It's about Father's plans for this land. Not that there's much to do here besides the mines."
"Please, let's go somewhere more private," Dorl whispered, his hand dropping to his side.
He turned, a weariness settling into his posture as if age had suddenly caught up with him, his mouth slightly agape. "Follow me…"
"Sir, let me---" Isan began, stepping forward, but Dorl raised a hand without looking back, cutting him off.
"No… Just… no," Dorl mouthed, his voice hollow, like air echoing from an empty chamber.
A soft chuckle escaped Jorel as he followed, watching Isan's face twist from distortion into a deep frown.
"Jorel…" Dorl murmured, his foot sinking slightly into the mud. They waded through the crowd, their eyes fixed on them. The sheer number of stares felt suffocating.
Jorel's mouth subtly quivered, his right hand unconsciously rubbing his left elbow.
*Thump-THUMP* *THUMP-thump.*
Jorel's heart hammered louder, while Dorl seemed to slow, almost getting swallowed by the periphery of the crowd. Jorel's lungs felt squeezed.
They… they should stop… Those eyes…
No!
He couldn't let something like this deter him. Yet, his hands trembled, and sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping as he walked past them.
It'll soon be over… It'll soon be over…
Jorel chanted silently, his breath constricted. He wiped the sweat from his face as they passed buildings with roofs riddled with holes, like paper perforated by a child's careless hand.
The windows lacked glass, and bricks jutted precariously from damp, bulging walls. Stalls, half-collapsed and empty, offered only mold-covered vegetables.
Vegetables without being cooked are one thing---but moldy?
Jorel gagged, his tongue recoiling as his head slowly shook.
They continued their walk, Dorl remaining silent, until a woman carrying a basket passed by.
"Good day, Kumigara Dorl."
"Good day…" Dorl replied with a half-hearted smile. The woman shuddered, her gaze shifting to Jorel, who stared back, hands on his waist.
"I---I'll j-just go…" she stammered, bolting away, nearly spilling the contents of her basket.
Are people in this town just short, or am I just too tall?
Jorel wondered.
...
They walked and walked, through mud and decaying buildings, until they reached Dorl's house.
"Finally!" Jorel sighed in relief.
"H-here…" Dorl pointed to his door. The house was slightly less damp than the others, taller, with actual glass in its windows, and the ground around it was firmer. Dorl reached for the doorknob and turned it.
"Daddy!" A high-pitched voice pierced Jorel's ears as a little girl rushed out, hugging Dorl tightly.
"How was your stroll?" she asked, a string of mucus dangling from her nose. Jorel instinctively recoiled, avoiding the sight.
Asking a moving corpse how their day was?
You'd have better chances explaining puberty to a rock.
Jorel thought, a light chuckle escaping him.
"How are you, my little Tina?" Dorl asked, patting her head, his voice surprisingly cheerful, a stark contrast to his earlier mundane tone.
Did the Kumigara switch at that point? Or did his sha--- Jorel's eyes narrowed.
"Let's go inside," Dorl said, carrying the girl as he turned back to Jorel.
He has a child----a daughter?!
For her age, Dorl looks too old to be her father!
Or did he… with someone young…? A disturbing image flashed in Jorel's mind, his stomach churning, his body shuddering at the thought.
Ugh… commoners…
Jorel slipped off his boots at the front door, arranging them neatly to the side.
Even in a dump like this…
My manners and simple courtesy are all I need to distinguish between me and them.
They stepped inside, and a chaotic scene assaulted Jorel's vision. Bright, small-sized dresses lay strewn everywhere, mixed with larger clothes. The peach-colored walls were stained with graphite-black lines.
---The end of chapter 13---