#088. The Missing Children (2)
—
“You dropped your book, young gentleman.”
A clear voice resonated through the space.
Philip, with a somewhat dazed expression, accepted the book without taking his eyes off the lady’s neck.
“Ah… Thank you.”
“That’s impressive. You look quite young, yet you’re reading such a difficult book.”
“Oh, yes.”
The lady smiled and turned to return to her original spot.
Philip’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to ask something.
But hesitation locked his words inside.
“Do you live in this sector?”
The question came from Ray.
The lady stopped.
Turning gracefully, she met Ray’s gaze and responded with her characteristic gentle smile.
“Yes, I do. I used to live in a sector with a lower number, but I moved down here after settling my affairs. Curious young gentleman, do you have any more questions?”
“No. Thank you for answering.”
A light exchange of nods.
The lady picked out a book from her spot and disappeared toward another bookshelf.
A few seconds later, Ray asked,
“Do you think she could be your mother?”
“…….”
Philip was still dazed.
He had been separated from his mother at age six.
Ten years ago.
Time had layered over his childhood memories, obscuring many details about her.
One of those things was her face.
Philip couldn’t remember what his mother looked like.
Which meant—
A woman in her mid-to-late thirties with brown hair.
Every woman fitting those criteria could *potentially* be his mother.
After a long pause, Philip shook his head.
“If she were my mom, she would’ve recognized me. Even if I didn’t recognize her first. And it doesn’t make sense for her to be here, looking like that.”
Considering various factors, the likelihood of the lady being his mother was extremely low.
After all, there was no way he would reunite with his estranged mother so easily.
“…….”
And yet, deep in his heart, a dormant unease resurfaced.
*”What if my mother started a completely new life?”*
*”What if she pretended not to know me, or genuinely didn’t recognize me?”*
A fear like that.
“Yeah. I don’t think she’s your mother either. For one thing, she was a mage.”
“Huh?”
“A Second Circle mage. Your mother wasn’t a mage, was she?”
“…No. I can’t say for sure, but I definitely don’t remember her using magic.”
Ray lowered his voice as he flipped through the books Philip had brought.
“And… there’s a chance she’s a member of Murcred’s organization. She was wearing a necklace with a red gemstone.”
“A necklace? Oh!”
Philip’s face lit up with belated realization.
He had only been focused on her brown hair and checking for a scar on her neck, neglecting to pay attention to her accessories.
“You’re right. Just in case, we should look into it. I’ll add it to the list of orders for our informants.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to investigate. She said she lives in this sector, after all.”
After discussing a bit more, Philip gathered up his pile of books again.
“Ugh. I’m gonna drop these off at the counter first. Take your time looking around.”
Philip wobbled toward the checkout counter.
Confirming that the lady was no longer in sight, Ray reached out and cast an enhancement spell on Philip.
“Huh? Oh? Ooh? Oooooh!”
His posture stabilized, and his steps quickened significantly.
Watching Philip suddenly speed toward the counter, Ray turned his gaze to where the lady had stood earlier.
*”The way she looked at us just now….”*
Something about her gaze had felt off.
If his instincts were right, there had been another layer behind her gentle smile.
He had seen a similar look before, back when he was studying people in Sector 50—
A look he’d noticed in certain residents.
In other words, it was the kind of gaze a blacksmith or carpenter had when inspecting raw materials before crafting something.
Ray walked over to check what kind of books were on the shelf she had been browsing.
**”Positive Discipline”**
**”Becoming a Respected Mother”**
**”Empathy: A Guide to Proper Parenting”**
They were all books on child-rearing.
***
“There weren’t any books on the Black Rain. Looks like Grandpa was right—there’s barely any research on it.”
Each of them had picked out a few books and headed to the checkout counter.
Veronica had chosen books on soil research.
Ray had selected psychology books about human behavioral principles.
Philip had picked books on finance and capital.
“I’ve never actually read a book before, but I figured I should study up.”
Philip scratched his head awkwardly.
A mix of factors had led to this decision.
“We’ll be visiting a bank soon, and I’m also the one managing our money.”
It was partly out of responsibility.
“And… Ray is pretty cool. He’s always studying something.”
It was also due to the motivation sparked by watching someone else.
As they were bagging their books—
“Guys. Over there.”
Veronica pointed toward the bookstore’s entrance, which had a full glass window.
Outside the wall, a group of scruffy-looking boys was loitering, stealing glances inside.
Philip exhaled sharply.
“Impatient, aren’t they? I *told* them to wait in front of the inn, even gave them the address.”
“…….”
Ray silently counted the visible hostiles.
*”One… two… three…. Just in front of the glass, there are seven.”*
Beyond that, in the alleys and by the benches, there were even more kids from the same gang.
In total, over twenty.
Clearly, they planned to use their numbers to pressure them.
*”Even better.”*
With that many, there was a high chance their leader was among them.
The more subordinates they crushed in front of him, the easier it would be to issue commands later.
The group left the bookstore and turned into an alley.
The boys didn’t even try to hide their presence—they openly followed.
Their destination was a spacious lot they had scouted beforehand.
Philip and Veronica climbed onto a pile of concrete pipes, as if taking seats in an audience section.
By now, they were used to this.
Ray confirmed that the defensive barriers were in place around them before turning back.
“Hey, hey. Don’t push.”
“These idiots walked right into their own grave.”
The gang poured into the lot through its narrow entrance.
A total of twenty-five.
One boy stepped forward and spoke.
“I hear you’ve been messing with my boys. And even *dared* to taunt us with a promise of money.”
“Are you the gang’s leader?”
“Yeah. I’m the infamous Dranine—”
“That’s strange.”
“What?”
“You look way too old to be a gang leader.”
**Dranine. 16 years old.**
Leader of the Dranine Gang, one of the two factions that split Sector 47.
A boy whose physical development far surpassed that of his peers—his body had already reached full maturity several years ago.
Standing well over 180 cm tall, he possessed the strength to overpower most adult men.
However, this rapid growth was not limited to just his height or muscle mass.
It also meant—
Dranine looked more… mature than his age.
No—*far* more mature.
And on top of that—
*”Your scalp… it’s kind of bare up there.”*
It meant that his hair had started its inevitable descent far earlier than normal.
Ray had spoken purely out of curiosity.
In Sector 50, the only bald men he had ever seen were at *least* in their thirties.
But the impact of his words was immense.
“…Oh no. That guy just touched Dranine’s biggest insecurity.”
“That’s the *one* thing you never bring up.”
“He’s dead. His spine’s gonna be folded seven times and stuffed into a barrel.”
Murmurs spread through the gang.
Dranine’s face turned bright red, as if he were about to explode.
“*Y-You! You little—I’ll tear you apart!*”
**WHOOSH—!**
A fist the size of a bear’s paw tore through the air, aiming straight for Ray’s face.
Despite the sheer force behind it, Ray effortlessly avoided the blow with a simple tilt of his body.
Dranine stumbled forward, momentarily off balance.
“You bastard!”
Perhaps thinking Ray had just gotten lucky, Dranine quickly regained his stance and threw another punch.
But at that moment—
*”Wait… that is *Dranine*, isn’t it?”*
A new voice rang out from the other side of the lot.
A second group of boys poured through the narrow entrance.
They were about the same size as Dranine’s gang.
The two factions immediately recognized each other, their expressions turning wary.
Dranine spoke first.
*”Melom, get lost. I don’t know why you’re here, but I have important business with this guy.”*
**Melom.**
The leader of another gang Ray had recently crushed.
Standing among his crew, Melom scoffed.
*”Sorry, but I’ve got business with him too. *You’re* the one who should step aside.”*
A tense standoff.
The two leaders glared at each other like mortal enemies, neither backing down.
And yet, as if both were convinced they already had their prey cornered, neither seemed particularly concerned about Ray.
*”Melom, if you don’t want to die, scram. You used to tremble like a coward whenever I looked at you.”*
*”That’s old news. Can’t talk about anything but the past, huh? Guess that means you’re scared. Also, I’m *not* the coward here. Oh, wait—my bad. It’s not that you’re lacking… it’s that *everything’s gone.*”*
The air grew heavy.
Tension crackled between them.
A fight could break out at any moment.
But Ray was certain—they would *never* actually attack each other.
*”Their anger isn’t enough.”*
Yes, they were frustrated with each other.
But that frustration wasn’t overwhelming—it wasn’t something they were ready to act on.
In fact, the strongest emotions filling their minds right now weren’t rage, but hesitation and unease.
*”Say that one more time, and I’ll tear your jaw off.”*
*”Try me, coward. You *hairless* coward.”*
They *weren’t* actually going to fight.
They were just waiting—waiting for the other to back down first.
*”Pent-up emotions need to be released for a person to live a mentally healthy life.”*
A passage from one of Ray’s books surfaced in his mind.
*”Unresolved emotions will only fester, poisoning the heart.”*
He didn’t fully understand the concept.
But he was beginning to grasp what it meant.
*”A person’s ‘vessel’ fills up with emotions.”*
And emotions had two outcomes.
They either dissipated.
Or they accumulated.
If they built up too much, they disrupted the vessel’s balance—
And once that balance was broken, it led to erratic behavior.
When emotions reached a critical point, they erupted—either all at once or gradually over time.
*”The threshold varies from person to person. It also depends on the type of emotion.”*
But one thing never changed.
Once emotions were fully released, the vessel’s balance was restored.
Then, Ray realized, that was what *emotional release* meant.
*”Maybe it’s like how the body purges bad blood to maintain itself.”*
Ray’s gaze settled on the simmering rage within Melom and Dranine.
*”It’s not nearly enough for an explosion.”*
But still—bad blood should be drained.
If left unchecked, these two could make unpredictable moves that would interfere with his plans.
Ray made his decision.
For the sake of their mental health—
**VWOOM—**
A crimson glow flickered across his palm.
The red mana swirled and shot forward—
Straight into the *vessels* of Dranine and Melom.
