#001. Boy on a pile of scrap (1)
—
An evening at dusk.
Ray was sitting on a pile of scrap metal.
Old furniture. Broken electronics.
Useless junk. Rusty metal.
A little garden where all kinds of useless things hugged each other.
Because it was quite high up, climbing up here allowed him to take in the surrounding scenery at a glance.
Piles of scrap metal are towering everywhere.
The current location is a garbage dump on the outskirts of sector 50.
Ahead of him was a vast wasteland that seemed to go on forever.
Behind him was a city full of old concrete buildings.
The place where Ray was born and spent his entire life.
Sector 50 was an entire area that had become a slum.
He lowered his head.
A group of shabby-looking boys were seen wandering among the piles of scrap metal, carrying tongs and sacks.
Like Ray, they were orphans living on the streets and making a living by collecting scrap.
The difference was that, unlike Ray, the children traveled in groups of two or three.
Each person had a group to which they belonged .
It is almost certain that it will happen.
If you don’t take it, it will be taken away.
If you do not kill, you will die.
Survival of the fittest.
The ecosystem here in Sector 50 was one that couldn’t survive without sticking together.
Degururur──
One of the flashlights in the pile rolled down the slope.
Bam!
It rolled on the floor and stopped at the feet of some boys.
The boys looked up at Ray.
Their eyes met for a moment.
“… … .”
“… … .”
The boys who had been watching Ray’s reaction grabbed the flashlight and ran off somewhere.
Ray was just calm.
He just thought to himself
Even if you pick it up, it won’t be of any use.
Ray’s eyes followed the boys’ movements.
An empty lot in the center of a garbage dump.
The boys who arrived there took a deep breath and handed the flashlight to one person.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a person.
Because the face and limbs were all made of rough stones.
Height: about 2 meters.
The stone was a silvery-gray color and, at first glance, looked like a lump of metal.
Kikkikkikkikk
The adults in Sector 50 called this moving thing a golem.
Who is the owner? Where did it come from?
What purpose it serves.
No one knew exactly about the golem.
They just said that it has existed in sector 50 since ancient times.
One thing was certain.
The Golem collects certain scraps from the dump and gives food in exchange for certain items.
Canned food or biscuits.
And luxury foods like chocolate.
─Come on! Eat! Eat quickly!
Boys waving flashlight in front of the golem.
They was so excited that their voice could be heard all the way here.
─Wheein.
The golem emitted a red light from its two eye sockets.
It stared at the flashlight for a few seconds, then turned and stomped off to another place.
The boys chased after it, waving flashlight, but the golem’s reaction did not change.
Afterwards, other groups brought in the scrap, but the result was always the same.
─Tch! Why on earth aren’t you accepting it!
─I think I’ll just destroy it!
─Hold on. They said that if you attack the golem, you will be retaliated against.
─That’s right. Some said that there was a time when a golem came out into the street and killed people.
The golem was capricious.
Sometimes they received the kinds of things they wanted; sometimes they didn’t, and vice versa.
Although the success rate of scavenging was extremely low, the children did not give up because of the sweet reward.
Ray, who was watching the scene, went down the pile of scrap metal.
Clank. Clank. Bang!
He didn’t slip or fall.
He felt very stable, like he was stepping down a solid staircase.
Ray looked around and headed toward the empty lot.
He picked up some of the scrap he had seen before.
“Here you go.”
Ray, who arrived at the vacant lot, handed the bag to the golem.
The golem’s red eyes scanned the contents of the bag.
Kikkik─
The golem lifted the bag and poured the scraps into its mouth.
Poof! Tuduk
The items rolled into its body.
The golem, with its mouth tightly shut, shuddered once, then opened its mouth again and took out food from inside.
3 cans of canned food. 2 packs of biscuits.
1 bag of bread. 1 chocolate.
If you eat it sparingly by yourself, it would be enough to last you for about three days.
The eyes of the other boys watching the scene widened.
“Hey. Look at that.”
“How on earth does he do that every day…?”
There was murmuring here and there.
“… How about doing it like this?”
“Don’t be crazy. He’s the Ghost Ray from 17th Street.”
Ray didn’t really care because it was a reaction he had always experienced.
He silently packed his rations into his bag and headed for the exit of the dump.
“… … .”
Before long, Ray could feel someone following him.
2 people behind the left pile.
Two on the right pile.
And three more behind them, hiding and following.
Seven people in total.
It was by no means a small number.
The intention was obvious.
Ray glanced at the bag slung over his shoulder.
And then, at a place he thought was suitable for fighting, he stopped and turned around.
“Come out. How long are you going to follow me?”
There was no response.
It was only when he made a gesture to take out the bread and step on it with his foot that he felt movement.
“You’ve got good senses. I’m following you because you’re being careful.”
As expected, there were 7 opponents.
They were holding clubs and knuckles in their hands.
“Ron, I warned you last time. If you catch my eye one more time, I’ll make sure you’re never able to walk on your own two feet again.”
The largest boy in the group.
Orange-haired Ron flinched as his eyes met Ray’s.
But soon he remembered that they were vastly outnumbered and growled.
“When were you talking about? It was so long ago that I can’t even remember. Huh?”
He has no front teeth, so his pronunciation is a bit slurred.
He was beaten by Ray and his teeth were broken.
“It was exactly 23 days ago. If you’re asking about the time, it wasn’t that long ago.”
“That’s not what I’m asking now!”
Ron was seething.
He never liked Ray whenever he saw him.
An expressionless face that never moves, no matter what.
Emotionless eyes that seem to see right through people.
From the sound of his breath to the slightest movement.
Every single one of them got on Ron’s nerves.
But it doesn’t matter.
Because soon he’ll be lying on the ground, crying and begging for his life.
‘There were three of us back then. But this time, including me, there are seven of us.’
I lost last time, but this time it’s different.
I brought six of the best fighters from the group.
Ray.
The Ghost of 17th Street.
He was given that nickname because he moved around so quietly and had no expression on his face.
He was also famous for fighting well.
But even he would be helpless against seven people.
Moreover, Ray’s physique is at best average for his age.
On the other hand, all seven of us are physically large, comparable to adults.
‘I will definitely win.’
The corners of my mouth went up without me knowing it.
The idea was to avenge the last defeat and take control of 17th Street. where Ray was.
Ron said in a confident voice.
“I won’t talk long. Just drop your bag and go, and we’ll let you go in one piece.”
It was a lie.
I was planning to beat him up and make him a cripple, whether he gave me food or not.
“lies.”
Ron’s eyes flinched.
The reason street kids were afraid of Ray wasn’t just because of his fighting skills.
“You’re lying.”
Lying wouldn’t work with Ray.
“Don’t make eye contact with ghost. If you do, you’ll be caught lying.”
Ray could tell truth from lies just by looking at their eyes.
The kids were hesitant at first.
But several events have occurred that have made it more certain that it is now an established theory.
Lies don’t work on this ghost.
‘You cheeky little brat…!’
Ron gritted his teeth.
It’s obvious to anyone that he’s sending him off safely, but he must have figured it out using some kind of inexplicable talent.
“Kill him─! Kill him─!”
Ron yelled as if trying to shake off their fear.
The boys with him ran towards Ray.
Bam!
Ray dropped his bag on the floor and took a stance.
The shapes of the approaching enemies were reflected in his pure white eyes.
Boooo …
Ray crouched low.
He felt the club barely brush his back.
Thump!
He kicked the ground.
He leaned his body forward and pulled his elbow back.
And.
Bam!
“Ugh!”
He shoved his fist deep into someone’s stomach.
He looked past him as the guy crumpled to the ground and saw a knuckle coming straight at him.
“Die!”
Turning his body to the right, using his suddenly stopped left foot as an axis.
Psst!
A knuckle passed right in front of his face.
Ray swung his right elbow at his opponent’s outstretched arm with all his might.
Snap!
“Ahhhhh!”
He kicked a staggering foe with his foot.
The enemies behind him became entangled and fell to the ground.
The fight was one-sided.
The sound of leather slapping and bones breaking echoed through the garbage dump.
Exactly 5 minutes later.
All the boys except Ron were rolling around on the floor, groaning.
“… … !”
“It doesn’t change just because the numbers increase.”
Ron couldn’t believe what was happening.
Are you saying that the skills he usually showed weren’t everything?
“Oh, don’t come, please don’t come!”
“I warned you. If you show up one more time, I’ll make sure you can’t use your legs.”
Ray closed the distance one step at a time.
Ron took a step back, his legs trembling.
Bam!
Something hit his back.
When he looked back, it was a pile of scrap metal.
Ron pulled out a folding knife and unfolded it.
“Hey, shit! Stay away from me! You monster!”
Ray stopped.
He stared blankly at the knife.
“Monster.”
Maybe it wasn’t entirely wrong.
He thought that as he looked at his own face, distorted and darkened by the knife’s reflection.
Maybe he himself is not much different from a golem, a block of stone without emotions.
*
*
*
It was when Ray was 10 years old that he realized he was different from other people.
“Why aren’t you crying?”
“You fell and got a big cut, but doesn’t it hurt at all?”
He know it hurts.
And the blood is flowing out.
But what does crying have to do with that?
“Kale came back after being hit. To the kids on 7th Street.”
“… Aren’t you even angry?”
Why should he be angry?
No, before that, what does ‘Anger’ mean?
“Sniff. Bello is dead… What do we do now?”
“You didn’t shed a single tear.”
Ray then realized.
He himself did not feel a single thing that others would call emotion.
“You’re a little weird. It’s scary.”
As those around him left, he naturally became alone.
He thought blankly.
Am I wrong here?
He wanted to be like everyone else.
He tried to feel emotions.
He could feel something faintly stirring deep in his chest.
「… … .」
But he couldn’t even tell if that was really an emotion.
He had never felt it before in his life, so he had nothing to compare it to.
A year has passed.
Two years have passed.
Three years have passed.
… Six years passed like that.
Constant efforts to feel emotions were useless.
Maybe this is better.
He had that thought too.
In the slums, not feeling emotions was often an advantage.
For example, not feeling fear when fighting was a huge advantage.
The parts that required reading other people’s feelings and being mindful of their reactions were not a big problem.
Because Ray had his own way of reading other people’s emotions.
*
*
*
“Don’t come, you monster!”
Now Ray was concentrating his attention on his pupils.
Because of that, he was seeing the world differently from others.
Red, as red as blood.
Blue, as blue as the deep sea.
A bright yellow like forsythia.
And countless other colors.
The world was filled with colorful lights.
A landscape like an oil painting with various colored paints all mixed together.
It was mana, known as both a magical ingredient and the foundation of the world.
Of course, Ray didn’t know the details.
He was merely using it as a technique to identify others’ emotions, along with a few auxiliary methods.
Ray looked at Ron’s chest.
Dark brown mana was rippling nearby.
Everyone has a small bowl in their heart.
Every time they felt a certain emotion, a certain colored mana would seep into the bowl and stay there.
Anger, hatred, love, etc. are red colored mana.
Laughter and indifference are the blue-colored mana.
Joy and excitement are the yellow-colored mana.
There were not many exceptions.
“It’s a knife. It’s an unspoken rule not to use a blade. Did you plan on bringing it with you from the beginning? To stab me?”
“Ah, I picked it up just now! I picked it up among the junk!”
lie.
You can tell by looking at the color of the mana contained in the bowl.
-Thud.
“Oh, don’t come! Don’t come! Unless you want to die!”
Ray approached Ron, unfazed by the knife pointed at him
His gaze was always directed at Ron’s chest.
A dark black mana that is fluctuating.
Yeah, so that was an extreme fear.
Ray opened his mouth.
“Liars deserve to be punished.”
