6 The Hunter and The Hunted
"Ugh!"
It hurt so badly that I couldn't tell you how long it had been since I passed out.
Fortunately, the haze from my vision cleared up quickly, and I was able to see surroundings that were completely different from the freezing streets where my consciousness had left me.
I was currently in the comfort of a bright room, lying on a warm bed.
"You're awake?"
Suddenly, a voice, mature and feminine, broke through the silence, snapping me into full awareness. Blinking away remnants of drowsiness, my gaze sharpened as I turned towards its source.
Standing beside me was a beautiful, tall figure of a woman seemingly in her late twenties, her long, ultramarine hair framing off a face that looked both classy and elegant.
Like an enchantress with a mysterious allure, her crimson eyes, sharp as daggers, looked into mine—as if a thorny rose.
'Iris Gracia.'
She was the aunt and adoptive mother of one of the major heroines in this novel—my first stepping stone, Emily Gracia.
Despite the snowfall outside, Iris was clad in nothing but a slender, long lavender nightgown.
The soft glow of the ceiling bulb reflected gentle flickers upon her serene countenance.
Noticing her, I struggled to rise in greeting, but a searing pain tore through my back, forcing me to suck in a breath of cold air through my clenched teeth.
"Hisss!"
It felt like someone had stabbed me deep into my flesh.
But before I could push further, Iris's hand pressed firmly against my chest, urging me back onto the bed.
"Don't overexert yourself. Your body isn't yet fully recovered."
"...Thank you—Cough! Cough!"
Opening my mouth, I felt my throat suddenly get extremely dry, and I ended up coughing nonstop in the middle of my words.
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
"Let me get some water."
Rushing to the kitchen, Iris brought back a bowl of warm water without hesitation.
"Here, drink."
Supporting my back, she helped me into a sitting position and pressed the bowl to my lips. I drank water greedily, as if I had been thirsty for years.
"Haaa!"
Observing my relief, Iris, who had tended to me, placed the empty bowl on a nearby stool and turned her attention back to me.
"Now that you're finally awake after two days of unconsciousness and are able to speak, why don't you tell me about yourself and why were you in the situation you were in?"
'Two days?!'
Hearing those two words alerted me instantly.
I knew my condition was not serious enough to make me unconscious for two whole days. But since it was something that could be confirmed easily, I knew Iris wouldn't lie to me.
So the only reasonable possibility I could think of was that I was really unconscious for two days, most likely because of Iris herself.
'She might have kept me unconscious to check up on my background and is currently just pretending to be an oblivious, caring lady to me.'
My thoughts raced like a storm, yet outwardly, I maintained the disguise of a wounded child.
The corners of my eyes turned red as I remembered the reason for my bad situation.
Followed by a heat that began to rise from behind my eyeballs, and I felt a small pressure that soon began to escape through my eyes, as if releasing steam before exploding.
"I... Mommy..."
I mumbled something, and then, as if unable to control my overwhelming emotions, tears streamed down my cheeks.
"Mommy... Haaaaa... Mommy..."
Even if I tried to stop, it wouldn't stop.
Instead, it caused my breathing to become heavy.
But then suddenly, in a moment of unexpected tenderness, a pair of slender hands cradled my face, wiping away my tears.
Iris's hands were rough and calloused, and they did not match her beautiful face and gentle voice at all, but I welcomed them, acting as if they were giving the softest caress in the world.
My silent tears transformed into anguished cries.
"Uwaaaaaaaa~! Mommy... Mommy... took me to see the fireflies, but... but when we got out of the taxi... Sniff! She... She...."
Under the pretense of a traumatized child, I let loose a flood of made-up sorrow, fabricating a story of betrayal and abandonment.
Through choked sobs, I recounted how my beautiful mother took me to see the fireflies at the Golder Glitter Shorline, only to abandon me without a second glance upon reaching our destination.
I described how I tripped and fell while chasing after her fleeting figure and how my sweaters and jacket tore, getting caught in tree branches. No matter how hard I tried, my short legs just couldn't keep up with her long stride, and I ended up all by myself.
I had already rehearsed everything multiple times before coming here, and there was no flaw in my acting.
Listening intently, Iris remained silent as I poured out my heart and told my story.
Finally, when I stopped talking, she spoke softly:
"It's been really hard for you..."
Her hand found its way to my back, offering a comforting rub.
"Why don't you tell me your and your parents' names? Maybe I could help you find them? I'm Iris Gracia, by the way. You can call me Aunty Iris."
"Umm… Lunar White, Mommy Stacey, Daddy… Uhh, daddy is daddy... I... I... sniff... live in um… I don't know… uwaaaa~"
"It's okay; it's okay. Calm down. Don't cry… Let me think. Lunar and Stacey..."
Iris whispered the names; a momentary flash of recognition appeared in her eyes before her expression changed to one of abrupt realization.
"Wait, are you that family?!"
With a loud exclamation, she urgently retrieved today's local newspaper from beneath the bed, as if she hadn't placed it there on purpose.
Nevertheless, I maintained the facade of obliviousness, and my gaze focused on the headline that Iris pushed before me.
『Silver Fire Guild's couple's massacre. The White family's tragedy.』
"I'm sorry, but your parents...."
Her voice faded, but her soft hand remained on my back, as though helping me process the heartbreaking news.
Regardless, I still couldn't digest it.
"...Da, Daddy..."
I instinctively tried to stand up in shock, but Iris' firm hold gently restrained me.
"Don't try to get up. You're still hurt."
"No, mommy, daddy, no... No... No."
"... Lie down."
The news reported on the sad discovery of my father's, grandparents', and other people's remains among the victims.
Despite this, two names stood conspicuously absent in the midst of the disaster: mine and my mother's, presumed dead due to the lack of updates on our whereabouts.
"No, ah, last one... Mommy. She's left... My only family..."
Tears streamed down my face as I clung to the hope that my mother was still out there somewhere, waiting to be found. But Iris's next words shattered my fragile hope.
"Even if she's alive, considering how she ran away after leaving you, it's absolutely impossible for her to return. Rather, it's highly likely that she knew all about this and decided to abandon you."
"No! That's a lie! My mother would never... my mother...."
In the end, I could only choke out those words and couldn't continue—the bitter truth seemed to settle upon my little self, crushing my wounded soul.
"I.... I..."
Hot tears spilled out of my red-hot eyes, their flow uncontrolled and relentless.
Unlike the tears, however, not even a breath escaped my parted lips; my voice was silenced by the weight of despair.
It felt like a big lump of mud had clogged my throat.
My vision blurred and distorted, and the world swirled in a dizzying kaleidoscope of confusion.
Ceiling to floor, floor to ceiling—the lines between them blurred until they merged into an indistinguishable blur.
I felt lost, unable to discern whether my body was standing, lying, or sitting.
Every detail on how to act was etched into my memory, and I meticulously and carefully executed it to evoke sympathy.
Gradually, I felt myself being pulled deeper and deeper into the abyss of despair.
"So now, where will you go?"
However, Iris asked that question precisely at that time, and I couldn't help but admire her impeccable timing.
'Not giving a comforting hug, but asking this question when my heart and mind are most vulnerable and susceptible to manipulation.'
She, who must have checked my background, already knew that I had nowhere to go.
Even if I were a kid who just turned four years old, she was calculating against me without reservations.
To her question, though, I gave her the silent treatment; meeting her gaze, my eyes were empty and lifeless, like a shattered wind-up doll.
'Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words.'
Though Iris's expression remained unchanged, I noticed a faint tremor in her pupils.
Nevertheless, she quickly regained her composure.
"If my guess is correct, the people who did this to your family should still be searching for you, and it's not safe for you to go out anywhere. So stay here for some days. Once the matter has calmed down, I will take you back to show what's left of your family. You can then decide what to do."
"…"
Hearing her words, I stared at her in a daze, momentarily speechless.
But then, as if deeply moved by her kind gesture of offering me shelter in my time of need, as if finding a glimmer of warmth in the cold darkness of abandonment after my mother's betrayal, two simple words escaped my lips, accompanied by a flood of tears from my eyes.
"Thank you."
Eventually, it seemed Iris couldn't bear to see my little pitiful figure in such distress any longer.
She wrapped me in her embrace, lifting me gently into her arms.
"Mmmmph… Mmmph…!"
My little heart also couldn't take it anymore, and muffled cries escaped my mouth as I basked in Iris's warmth and felt her hands continue to rub my back in a soothing rhythm.
"You have endured too much. Get some rest for now."
Her voice was so soft that it felt like a lullaby, and although I couldn't look into her eyes, I could tell that her voice was filled with satisfaction at the results.
Playing my part according to her script, I surrendered to exhaustion, my weary body succumbing to sleep without conscious effort.
To be honest, her plan was really good.
Making me face the harsh reality that I had no one left in this world to go to, she gave me a comforting home and a warm, love-filled hug.
Even some adults might have fallen for her well-laid trap in such a situation, let alone a four-year-old like me.
That was why I knew, in her mind, Iris might be cheering: 'Success!'
But she forgot that in this game of emotional manipulation, the hunter can also become the hunted, and the tables have a way of turning.
Not to mention, I was a hundred-year-old man.
I was the spider, not the cicada. I awaited the mantis that she was, patiently weaving my own web of tricks—ones that, once she got stuck in, would leave her with no chance to escape.
'Hahahaha.'
