TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 10

A small, tender hand fumbled clumsily in his palm, tracing a few words.  

It was the child’s name, along with the intention to send him to the nearby Temple of Love for refuge.  

They seemed to want to help him.  

Why?  

He was penniless, filthy, and nothing more than a wandering vagrant. Why would anyone want to help him?  

Out of kindness?  

Don’t be ridiculous!  

Who would waste kindness on a pauper?  

When someone has wealth, everyone around them appears gentle and kind. But if they lose that wealth, those so-called “kind” people would reveal their cold, true faces and scatter like birds.  

He had seen it happen far too many times.  

Kindness, as he understood it, was just a commodity that could be bought with a bit of wealth.  

Even the charity of some nobles wasn’t driven by compassion. It was a calculated move to increase their prestige, maintain peace in their territories, or secure their own positions. A small expenditure of money could yield immense, intangible benefits. The shrewd nobles understood this all too well.  

If the cost outweighed the benefit, no one would do it.  

He would never place his hope in the illusion of someone’s goodwill. Only tangible gold was real.  

This child must want something from him.  

Perhaps they suspected he was hiding gold and were trying to deceive him.  

Or had they recognized him and were feigning kindness to steal his assets?  

They claimed they would take him to the Temple of Eros. Who knew if they might actually take him to a notary to trick him into signing over his possessions?  

Whatever the reason, he was certain this child and whoever was behind them had ulterior motives.  

He reached out a grimy hand to grab the child’s arm.  

Suddenly, a piercing cold surged over him, locking him in place.  

It felt as if a dangerous predator had fixed its gaze on him. A chill ran through his entire body, and he froze in terror.  

He immediately recalled a distant memory.  

Back then, he was merely a low-level demon. While passing by, he accidentally stumbled across a high-level demon feasting on its prey. The predator had glanced at him—just once.  

He had been marked.  

He was going to die!  

Even now, as a high-level demon himself, he could never forget that soul-deep terror. The same fear gripped him now.  

Even though he was blind and his demonic energy was sealed, he could sense someone in front of him warning him not to harm the child.  

A fragile child was being protected by such a terrifying force!  

Beyond his instinct to flee, doubt crept into his mind.  

If they possessed such power, there was no need for them to resort to deception. So what exactly did they want from him?  

What could he possibly have that they desired?  

Lost in thought, he weighed his options. Danger and opportunity often go hand in hand.  

Though the force was menacing, it lacked the intent to kill. That meant they didn’t intend to kill him.  

With this realization, he nodded hesitantly toward the child.  

“Yay!” Albin cheered as the vagrant agreed to accept help, pulling his hand and bouncing around joyfully.  

He turned to Zeman.  

“I’m definitely going to learn how to write!”  

Being completely illiterate, Albin had only managed to write those few words because Zeman had prepared them for him in advance. He couldn’t even write his own name—an unacceptable situation! Starting today, he vowed to study hard.  

But first, the vagrant needed a bath.  

Albin led him, along with Zeman, back to the inn where they were staying.  

The innkeeper, however, adamantly refused to let such a filthy man inside. They had no choice but to clean him up outside, using water from the well.  

Zeman fetched the water, and Albin touched it. The chilly well water would surely make someone sick if poured over them.  

Albin had an idea. “Father, can I use fire magic to heat the water?”  

“If you have an affinity for fire elements, it’s possible.”  

Albin immediately began experimenting.  

He recalled the heat of flames and how they had once scorched him. Slowly, a faint red glow surrounded him as he manipulated the fire element into the well water.  

Before long, the water warmed.  

He traced the word “bathe” into the vagrant’s hand and placed the bucket in front of him. As the man began scrubbing himself, Albin controlled the water flow to assist him.  

Magic was so convenient!  

Since the man couldn’t reach his back, Albin eagerly stepped behind him to help scrub it.  

Zeman frowned.  

Watching the vagrant enjoy treatment that even he, as a father, hadn’t received, Zeman radiated a cold aura.  

The vagrant shivered, unsure how he had offended this powerful individual again.  

He hurried to finish cleaning himself. As the filth washed away, his golden hair began to shine through.  

Edward’s hair was like sunlight filtering through the forest, but this vagrant’s was pure gold.  

After the bath, the vagrant shook his head like a soaked dog, sending droplets flying everywhere.  

Zeman tossed him some old clothes he had purchased from the villagers. The vagrant was slightly shorter than Zeman, but the clothes fit well enough.  

Albin scrutinized the now-clean vagrant, whose thick beard still obscured his face but hinted at handsome features.  

He traced the word “name?” into the man’s hand.  

The vagrant paused before writing a single word in return.  

Albin: …  

He didn’t recognize it.  

He asked Zeman, who translated, “He says his name is Gold, a name that means ‘gold.’”  

Albin looked at Gold’s hair. It suited him.  

Carefully, he traced Gold’s name in his hand and gently touched his golden hair, as if to say, “I remember your name now. It’s perfect for you.”  

Feeling the soft breeze as Albin reached up, Gold could almost *see* a smile.  

That night, they rested at the inn.  

The next morning, Albin awoke to find new clothes at the foot of his bed—warm, vibrant red garments lined with fur.  

Although he had said he didn’t need new clothes, Zeman had bought them anyway. Even Gold received a cloak to shield him from the cold.  

Albin hugged the new clothes and launched himself into Zeman’s arms, grinning brightly.  

“Good morning, Father! I love you so much! You look great in your new clothes, and thank you for mine!”  

Zeman, unused to such enthusiasm, awkwardly patted him. “Go put them on.”  

“Okay!”  

Soon, Albin was bundled up in his new outfit, looking like a flame glowing warmly in the winter chill.  

Zeman frowned slightly. Though the clothes were the best available in the town, they still seemed plain on Albin. He resolved to find better ones in the next city.  

The trio set off to meet their caravan. Despite the cold rain and muddy roads, the warmth of companionship made the journey bearable.  

Meanwhile, in the capital of the Wine Kingdom, a man draped lazily in the ceremonial robes of the High Priest of Bacchus awoke from his drunken slumber. His half-lidded wine-red eyes gazed at the statue of the god of wine as if he had received a divine revelation.  

“A white-haired, red-eyed boy, you say…” 

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