The City Where Gray Rain Falls Chapter 31

Isaac was sick to death of that place, and he had a plan to run away with Asel as soon as he was able to stand on his own two feet. He hadn’t been able to tell him his idea yet, worried that the kid, who didn’t know how to lie, would get excited and blab it all over the place, but that was the plan anyway.

‘Leaking a bit of information about the commander or the camp should be fine.’

That much would at least ensure that nothing happened to the other orphans still stuck there doing menial labor, or to the people he could remember by face—the ones who could still be counted among the innocent.

The real question was whether the other party would want that.

If they showed no interest in anything he knew, he intended to use his last resort: either reciting the commander’s description from memory or doing his best to make something up. He wanted to secure a promise of safe release by any means, to become someone worth keeping alive.

Even when the creepy sound of the basement door groaning open reached his ears, all Isaac thought about was the deal—a deal with the Commissioner of Public Safety.

He racked his brain over whether he could actually deceive someone who was anything but easy to handle, over what lines he should deliver to catch his interest.

But when he realized that the people who’d barged in unannounced were more than one, and when they not only covered his head with black cloth again but forced a tiny pill into his mouth, Isaac understood that everything had been in vain.

He floundered, trying desperately to cling to his fading consciousness, but his limbs went limp, drained of strength like a corpse. Soon, the unknown figures untied his body from the chair and dragged him off somewhere. That was Isaac’s last memory of the basement.

‘So I wasn’t dead.’

When he opened his eyes again, this remarkably convincing yet entirely unfamiliar space spread out before him. It was still cramped, but while the small basement room had reminded him of a coffin driven deep underground, this place at least held something that stirred a longing for life.

He’d assumed his worthlessness had been found out and that he’d be dragged off helplessly to be executed by firing squad, or buried alive, or burned at the stake—but it was nothing like that. Could this be the world promised to him after death?

“Ugh.”

He pinched his cheek hard, but the split wound inside his mouth and the scars on his tongue from biting it over and over throbbed, so he didn’t seem to be dead.

“What… is this?”

Belatedly, Isaac realized there was a heavy shackle fastened to his right ankle, clanking every time he moved.

The shackle was securely connected to a thick pipe that jutted up from the corner of the floor and ran through the ceiling, providing the hypothesis that he hadn’t yet shed his status as a prisoner and that only a slight change in his circumstances had occurred.

Perhaps because of the shackle and the long chain attached to it, the only clothing he had on was a long shirt. His lower body felt bare, and the soft feel of the fabric brushing his skin was unfamiliar.

Not far away, there was a single door—the only way out of this room.

Groaning, he used the sound as fuel to carefully move his joints, which had gone completely rusty over the past few days in the sticky basement dampness.

‘It doesn’t look locked. Should I go try opening it?’

Turning the handle wasn’t as easy as he’d thought, because he couldn’t even guess what lay beyond. It could be a sheer cliff dropping into nothing, or a giant beast waiting with its jaws wide open.

Besides, hadn’t he carelessly opened a red door and walked in last time, only to meet ‘that man’? There was no way he could call it a good memory.

Isaac pressed his ear to the door, holding even his breath as he gauged the activity outside, then finally seemed to make up his mind and turned the round, bud-shaped handle to the right. Click—and at the same time, the door opened without resistance to reveal a new world he’d never seen before, spreading out like a ray of light.

∞ ∞ ∞

A window with a clear view of the Public Safety Bureau training grounds and the surrounding area, a spacious bed that looked plush just to see it, a velvet sofa so smooth it seemed your hand might slip right off, and the warm energy radiating from a fireplace crackling steadily even in broad daylight…

Isaac doubted whether his eyes were properly capturing the scene before him, so he rubbed his eyelids with the back of his hand over and over, then forced them wide open repeatedly. But nothing changed.

He clamped his mouth shut by force, which wouldn’t stay closed, and as if mesmerized by the sight, he stepped forward to get a closer look out the window—but the shackle on his ankle wouldn’t allow it. Before he could get near the window, the chain clanged loudly against the pipe, and he tumbled forward.

Thud. The noise broke the stillness of the space, and the heavy door in front of him opened as a familiar face came in carrying a silver tray.

“I’ve brought your meal.”

It was Sera, the Public Safety Bureau’s public relations officer and the superior of the Crime Prevention Unit, walking over with a supple stride.

On the tray she carried was not dry bread that needed water to even chew and swallow, but a soft-looking golden omelet and warm bread giving off the faint scent of butter.

“…?”

Sera came right up to the bewildered Isaac, who was still sprawled on the floor, set the tray of food down on the ground in front of his nose, and offered some advice with a bright smile.

“Don’t get any foolish ideas. You’d better eat while you can. Before the Commissioner changes his mind.”

Maybe it was because of her beaming smile, but there was no threat whatsoever detectable in her words. It felt like nothing more than light gossip with a friend you’d met in passing.

Isaac pulled himself upright and gathered the courage to ask Sera, who was crouched down in front of him.

“Where am I? Why am I…?”

“Well, I don’t know. There aren’t many things I’m allowed to answer. Why not ask the Commissioner?”

As if that was the full extent of her reply, Sera brushed the few specks of dust off her black uniform, straightened her knees, and stood up.

“Whatever happens, I hope you’ve managed to prove to him that you’re worth keeping alive.”

“…”

“Even I do have nightmares sometimes, you know, when I have to face the corpse of someone I knew.”

At first listen it sounded like a threat, but in telling him how to conduct himself, it was more than generous kindness. After that, Sera let out a few soft giggles and then left the room with a final, “Enjoy your meal.”

Isaac sat awkwardly on the floor holding a fork and knife, facing the food Sera had left behind.

He had never in his life seen a dish so appetizing and properly prepared. Gulp. The saliva flooding his mouth ran down his throat, and his empty stomach growled, urging him to put the food in quickly.

‘Can I eat this?’

Even as he hesitated, the food was rapidly cooling. Though he didn’t know the intentions of the person who had brought him such a decent meal, in the end Isaac surrendered to his instincts, to the hunger clinging to his stomach walls and wailing like a cicada.

“Mm…!”

The omelet didn’t just come apart the moment it entered his mouth—it melted away entirely, and the bread full of butter’s fragrance pillowed softly against the tip of his tongue before collapsing.

The food vanished in an instant, leaving only an empty plate. Only then did regret wash over him—’if only I’d never known food like this existed’—but it was already too late.

∞ ∞ ∞

All Isaac could do with the shackle on his ankle was eat the meals Sera brought him, then return to the room where he’d first opened his eyes and drift off to sleep on the cold floor.

He briefly considered pocketing the small knife from the tray, but it wasn’t exactly a clever move. That little blade, which looked like it could barely slice soft bread, wouldn’t be able to threaten the Commissioner, let alone Sera.

He could easily picture her snickering, daring him to give it a shot if he thought he could. So any half-baked resistance would only make his situation worse.