**#017. Street Children (7)**
“Huh?”
Descending the stairs, Veronica was surprised.
The boy was nowhere to be seen.
Had he left because it took her too long?
Just as disappointment and regret began to creep in—
“I’m here.”
“Kyah!”
Startled, Veronica spun around to find Ray emerging from behind the stairs.
“Oh… You were looking around the shop, huh?”
“Are there no books about magic? I looked, but I didn’t see any.”
Veronica’s eyes widened.
“You can read? Did you go through all the titles?”
“A little bit.”
“That’s unusual. Oh! Not weird—I mean, it’s just uncommon. I didn’t know how to read either until I met my grandfather.”
Although Veronica fumbled to explain, Ray showed no particular reaction.
“Where’s your grandfather?”
“Oh, right. It might be difficult to meet him now. He’s in a deep sleep.”
Veronica glanced at Ray, gauging his response.
“Could you come back tomorrow morning? I’ll make sure to tell him about you in advance.”
Ray nodded. There was no rush.
The bookstore wasn’t going to disappear overnight.
Besides, he already had a specific destination in mind for today.
“Alright. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Turning on his heel, Ray headed straight for the bookstore door without hesitation.
“Wait.”
A voice stopped him in his tracks.
Ray turned back to face Veronica.
“Why do you want to meet my grandfather? From the start, it seemed like that was your goal.”
“……”
After a moment’s thought, Ray finally spoke.
“The rainbow….”
“Huh?”
“I’m searching for the rainbow.”
—
—
—
Ray entered Street No. 2.
Like Street No. 8, where the bookstore was located, this area was also under the control of the *Zephyr Gang*.
Zephyr the Brute.
He had never seen him in person, but rumors painted him as a massive figure with the strength to overpower most grown men.
By now, Zephyr himself should have appeared. After all, no gang leader would idly stand by while someone rampaged through their territory, breaking their subordinates.
Remaining vigilant, Ray continued toward his destination.
*Tap. Tap. Tap.*
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the alleyways.
Finally, he arrived.
The destination was a row of buildings lining the outskirts of the sector, numbered in the thirties.
Ray checked the note once again.
> **Street No. 2**
> **Building No. 32-1. Abandoned storefront.**
> **Name unknown. Male.**
> **Age: 30s to 40s.**
> **…….**
He scanned his surroundings.
Though the street wasn’t entirely deserted, there were few people around.
Blending into the sparse crowd, Ray walked past, glancing sideways for the building where the man supposedly lived.
‘That’s the one. 32-1.’
It didn’t take long to spot the decrepit sign attached to the building.
Ray confirmed the note again.
> **He leaves the house every morning between 7-8 a.m. and every evening between 6-7 p.m. without fail. Returns with a basket full of groceries and goes straight to the basement. Exact occupation unknown.**
> **Informant: Johnny, hall staff at Messy Food Restaurant.**
Turning to face the opposite side of the street, Ray saw a restaurant just as described.
─**Messy Food Restaurant.**
─**Outstanding flavor! Convenient meals!**
It wasn’t small, but the restaurant’s shabby appearance gave it a run-down vibe.
The hotdog-shaped sign, faded and discolored, looked almost rotten.
“……”
Just looking at it was enough to unsettle his stomach and kill any appetite.
Not that it mattered to Ray. He felt no particular attachment to food, and this stop wasn’t about eating anyway.
*Ding─*
Ray opened the door and entered, taking a seat by the window.
From here, he could monitor the entrance to Building No. 32-1.
The restaurant staff glanced at Ray, gathering order slips as they observed him.
His shabby clothes and pungent smell might have drawn attention, but no one seemed inclined to kick him out.
This wasn’t surprising—cleanliness wasn’t exactly a hallmark of the establishment, and homeless patrons made up a significant portion of their customer base.
As long as someone could pay, that was all that mattered.
“I’ll take this one!”
A boy burst from the group of employees and hurried to Ray’s table.
His messy orange hair and freckled face stood out, and a faded uniform bore the name tag “Johnny.”
Johnny’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Ray.
He whispered in a low voice, “You’re the hunter, right? It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, even from Phillip. I’m Johnny.”
“…I wouldn’t call it an honor.”
“Huh? Don’t you know the rumors about yourself? You’re practically a hero.”
Johnny grinned, a smile so genuine it was almost infectious.
“You’ve been taking down all those thugs lately, haven’t you? Doesn’t matter which gang—they’ve all felt it. You’ve become a hero to the weaker kids, especially those staying at Phillip’s hotel. Before they got there, they’d all been beaten up by other gangs. Some ended up crippled or dead.”
“……”
Ray could roughly piece together the situation.
The underdogs in Sector 49 were living vicariously through his actions.
“What do you want to eat? Don’t worry about paying—I’ll cover it. Don’t even think about leaving a tip.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“Please, let me.”
“……”
Johnny’s earnest gaze was a bit overwhelming.
“Fine. Anything’s okay. But I have some questions for you.”
“Ask away! I can even give you the safe’s combination if you want!”
That seemed a bit excessive.
“The man living across the street—aside from what you told Phillip, you don’t know anything else about him?”
Ray spread the note on the table as he spoke.
“Nope. What’s written there is all I know. I see him every day, but…”
Johnny trailed off, his expression guilty, as though he’d failed to meet expectations.
“How accurate is his schedule?”
“Almost 100 percent. I’ve been working here for about three months, and every single day, he’s gone to the basement morning and evening like clockwork. I don’t even need a watch anymore.”
“The items he carries—are they all groceries?”
“Hmm… Oh! Notebooks and pens! Those show up in his basket pretty often too.”
Ray asked a few more questions, and Johnny answered each one enthusiastically.
“Hold on. I’ll bring out the most expensive dish we have.”
With a sly grin, Johnny disappeared.
Ray turned his gaze back to the window.
‘6 p.m. An hour left.’
Barely five minutes later—
*Clack!*
“Here’s your food!”
“…Already?”
“Fast and convenient meals—that’s our motto.”
The plate held a steak covered in sauce, accompanied by celery and cherry tomatoes. Despite the restaurant’s reputation, it looked surprisingly decent.
Chewing slowly, Ray tried to make his meal last as long as possible, taking five minutes for each bite.
Halfway through the steak—
“……!”
Someone emerged from Building No. 32-1.
It was a man in a worn coat and a deeply pulled-down fedora, obscuring his face.
But Ray wasn’t focused on the man’s face.
His eyes locked onto the man’s chest.
There were two rings.
‘…Identical to the monocled wizard.’
The only difference was the smaller number of rings and the higher proportion of red mana swirling within them.
Additionally, the crimson mana faintly glowed on the man’s fingers, leaving trails as he moved.
‘…A ring.’
The man vanished down the street.
Ray immediately rose and exited the restaurant.
“Done already?”
“Thanks for the meal.”
“My pleasure! Come back anytime!”
*Ding─*
—*Looking forward to your fight with Kedrick!*
Ignoring Johnny’s shouts, Ray strode toward the building and descended the basement stairs.
*Thud─ Clack! Thud!*
The swirling emotions in the man’s rings had been a dense mixture of malice, despair, and rage.
It was the most intense malevolence Ray had ever encountered.
‘It was definitely the same ring.’
Kedrick’s mention of the organization replayed in Ray’s mind.
—
**”The organization is called Murcred. It’s a really famous group in Sector 45. If you bring in people, they take everyone and make them members,”** Kedrick had said during their conversation at the abandoned factory.
Ray had felt an immense sense of unease.
It wasn’t unheard of for gangs to recruit street orphans.
But such cases were typically limited to a select few—those who could be considered elite.
**Sixty-six recruits?**
No matter how he looked at it, it didn’t add up.
What would a well-established, powerful organization possibly gain by taking in so many orphans?
Ray couldn’t shake the suspicion that the so-called “executive” had some ulterior motive.
**”The ring was given to him by the executive too,”** he surmised.
Whenever Cedric mentioned the executive or the ring, his **grit** (Ray’s ability to perceive emotional imprints) radiated the same hue.
**Could that coat-wearing man be a member of Murcred? Or maybe… the executive himself?**
Ray’s instincts sounded an alarm.
**This is dangerous.**
Whatever was visible on the surface was far simpler than the tangled web of complexities beneath.
But retreating wasn’t an option.
**”You’ll have to confront it sooner or later as the leader of the gang, won’t you?”**
That thought lingered, though it wasn’t the primary reason for his resolve.
Sector 49 was merely a stepping stone—a necessary stop in his search for the rainbow and the City of Magicians.
Being a gang leader wouldn’t take long. He even planned to maintain Kedrick as the gang’s nominal leader after defeating him, for appearances’ sake.
**”The opportunity has come.”**
What drove him more was the **momentum** he sensed.
Ray recalled Nile’s words:
**”In life, there are moments like that. Times when blocked paths open, and opportunities come one after another.”**
Today, Ray had encountered two magicians—people he had been searching for so desperately.
**”For those of us scraping by at the bottom, we have to seize those moments. Ride the momentum.”**
Those words, muttered drunkenly over cheap vodka, rang true to Ray.
It wasn’t just Nile’s belief; it was a truth Ray had learned from a lifetime in the slums.
You cling to those fleeting chances, hold on tight with all your might, and let them carry you forward.
Even if you fell, as long as you survived, you’d still find yourself farther ahead than before.
That philosophy was etched into the bones of slum dwellers—a creed born of instinct.
Of course, this didn’t mean Ray was acting without a plan.
The man in the coat always left the basement at exactly six in the evening and returned at seven.
Not once had he deviated from this routine in the past few months.
That gave Ray one hour to investigate the place.
He descended the stairs, reaching the end.
In front of him loomed a thick iron door.
**Clank. Clank.**
The door wouldn’t budge, tightly locked.
**What does this man do here?**
Could he truly be connected to Murcred?
Do all adult magicians have those rings?
Questions and curiosity swelled within him.
He glanced around but found no obvious way to get inside.
**”….”**
It was then that his hand, almost as if guided by instinct, moved on its own.
A hum reverberated.
Mana gathered in his palm, coalescing into a dull gray—a mix of various hues blending into a cement-like shade.
**I want to open this door. I need to get inside.**
These thoughts, purely driven by his desire, spurred the result.
The moment he thought it, the gray mana flowed into the keyhole.
And then—
**Creak. Clunk.**
The iron handle turned with a loud click, seemingly of its own accord.
—
