**Chapter Fifty-Two: Melancholy (Part One)**
“That place isn’t too far from here…”
The girl paused for just a moment before continuing on her way, but the man behind her caught her reaction and a smirk began to form at the corners of his mouth.
“If you just follow this alley, take a right at the fork, and walk about three to five hundred meters north on the street, after a couple of turns you’ll see… hmm… it’s unbelievable, but they manage to have black pepper there. What a joke! This is the wild desert, for crying out loud… black pepper? Ridiculous…”
He muttered to himself, peering at the girl ahead through the moonlight and candlelight from the windows. That delicate silhouette swayed lightly in the night, as she extended her fair arm and took the hand of the little girl beside her, picking up the pace.
Then things got rather entertaining.
The girl remained silent, focused on the ground ahead, completely disregarding the man’s occasional comments, acting as if he didn’t exist.
Yet, it seemed the man hadn’t expected a reply anyway.
He just rambled on, shifting the topic from “Have you put on a bit of weight lately?” with a hint of provocation, to reminiscing about Granny Apfel accompanying them on this trip. His topics flowed freely, as though he was simply chatting about the weather.
“Granny Apfel… ah, do you remember her?”
“The dorm manager from your old place at the Royal Academy by Lake Ceylon, that fiery personality… She seems to have quite the impression of you. I heard her say she scolded you plenty because you would rush down the stairs just to get to the cafeteria and never learned your lesson.”
Similar snippets of small talk went ignored by the girl, who acted as if the man were a ghost. However, when they reached the end of the alley, she would slow down or casually stop to chat with Betty a bit, but only after hearing him say, “Go left” or “Turn right,” did she resume her pace.
While she never acknowledged his directions verbally, she quietly followed them.
Eventually, even little Betty couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.
Sister really is something else.
She clearly wants to talk to him but insists on acting uninterested…
Such a stubborn person…
But you know what…
That kind of sister is actually quite cute.
Betty had no idea about the troubles the girl had faced earlier and assumed their silence was merely due to some misunderstanding…
There was one thing she might not even realize herself.
That black-haired girl, in the short time—less than three days—they’d spent together, had transformed from being the scary image of a man-eating demon to a living, breathing girl with her own thoughts and moods.
She wasn’t afraid of her anymore.
And the term “sister” seemed to roll off her tongue more easily now.
Before long, the two of them followed the man’s casual directions, crossing an empty street and entering a shabby earthen building at the north corner of the town.
This earthen building was much shorter than the tavern they had previously visited, made of mud bricks. The interior space was less than half the size of that tavern, with no courtyard. Upon entering, it was pitch black, without a single light lit, and it seemed there was no one inside—eerily desolate.
But it was quiet.
The girl and little Betty went in first and stood in the dark hall for a moment. Then the man, walking in behind them, lit a candle, and at that point, nobody said a word. The girl frowned tightly, holding the little girl’s pinky, found a table, blew off the dust from the chair, and sat down.
Meanwhile, the man lit wall lamps and the bar lights one by one, not too far off.
“Sister…”
“It seems like there’s nothing here.”
As the candle’s flickering light gradually revealed the hall’s outline, little Betty leaned in to whisper in the girl’s ear, her voice echoing clearly in the quiet space. The girl lifted her gaze and saw the dusty bar, scattered tables and chairs, and the near-empty liquor cabinet behind the bar.
This place didn’t appear to be in business.
At least not right now.
This was clearly in stark contrast to what Carlos had said earlier; never mind Western Continental cuisine, there might not even be a single edible item here. The man had lied, but nobody mentioned it again.
The girl merely looked around, quickly lowering her head again, fidgeting with her fingers, looking dazed and mute.
After a moment, Carlos came over with the candle.
“Where did you pick up this little girl?”
He glanced at Betty and, with a thud, placed the candlestick on the table before sitting down casually in front of them.
The flickering light illuminated his scruffy face, worn with age.
The man looked at the girl, and she glanced up to meet his gaze yet remained silent. At that moment, little Betty’s eyes were darting back and forth between their faces.
After a beat, noticing the atmosphere was a bit heavy, the little girl chirped, “I’m Betty, not someone he found.”
Perhaps it was the characteristic blue eyes and white hair of the Mase people that made Betty a bit nervous, but she didn’t feel scared of the scruffy man; she seemed notably unguarded.
She’d decided that this bearded uncle didn’t look like a bad guy, and her words lacked hesitation: “Uncle, are you a Pope Knight?”
“Uncle?”
Carlos was caught off guard by being called “Uncle,” and his expression froze for a moment before he rubbed his beard, realizing something before breaking into a chuckle: “Do I really look that much like an uncle? Were you planning to call me that too?”
The last comment was directed at the girl.
“Pffft.”
The girl rolled her eyes at his remark, scoffing, “Who would want to call you that…”
However, she suddenly froze.
Ah…
I spoke to him.
Didn’t I decide just to come take a look, see what he was up to, and then leave immediately, not saying a word to this guy…?
“I’m basically the same age as her,” Carlos continued, a teasing tone directed at Betty. “The beard just hasn’t been groomed in a while, creating some unnecessary misconceptions… So, you’ll just have to pretend to believe me, okay?”
The man rambled on, probably a bit tipsy from the booze; his eyes now had a dreamy, languid haze to them as the scent of alcohol wafted with every word.
“Ugh, the smell of booze…”
I muttered a bit dissatisfied.
Ah…
Why can’t I help but talk to him again?
Maybe I should just leave…
I felt a strong urge to go.
I never really wanted to be here to eat anyway; I didn’t know what was going on, but tonight I didn’t have the appetite or mood for that…
But hearing Carlos’ voice made me hesitant to leave; it was like some unseen force brought me here… yet now that I was seated, what would come of it?
After waiting so long, listening to him drone on…
And he still wouldn’t get to the point, didn’t dare confront the issues at hand.
Carlos…
What do you really know…
And what are you avoiding…?
With that thought, I wiped the expression from my face and suddenly stood up from the chair.
