* * *
The journey from the temple to the capital took about four days on horseback.
I leaned forward, pressing my upper body as close to the horse as possible, letting it run at full speed while keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead.
The sight of the capital, slowly coming into view, made my breath tighten.
That extravagant city, so familiar yet suffocating.
“Do whatever you want, Isa. Everything—just as you desire.”
Kaindel’s words suddenly surfaced in my mind.
He had lent me his horse without hesitation, as if satisfied that I hadn’t outright refused him.
He had looked curious about where I was headed, but I hadn’t bothered to explain.
There was no need.
When I showed my identification plaque to the guards stationed at the entrance of the capital, they verified my identity and unlocked the gate.
During the war with neighboring nations, an artificial lake had been constructed around the capital’s walls to fortify the royal palace.
To step foot inside, one had to wait for the guards to lower the bridge.
Crossing the creaking wooden bridge, I entered the bustling city square.
The scene before me was all too familiar.
I had once intended to turn my back on all of this. I never imagined I’d return of my own accord.
—So, what about the Hero…?
—Ugh, don’t bring up such ominous things. Just don’t mention that depraved Hero.
—Wow, people sure don’t hold back anymore, huh…
Even amidst the noisy crowd, certain voices stood out.
They were talking about Kaindel—the Hero.
Back then, it had always been praise.
But now, listening to their words, it was clear how much had changed in my absence.
Gone were the children selling his portraits on the streets.
The people who once adorned themselves in gold, believing it would bring them protection, now avoided anything gold-colored altogether.
A symbol of fortune had, in an instant, become an omen of misfortune.
The absurdity of it all was almost laughable, yet at the same time, deeply hollowing.
“Excuse me.”
“Hm?”
Since riding a horse in the middle of the square was dangerous, I had dismounted.
Approaching a middle-aged woman selling apples nearby, I spoke.
“How can I get to Gazette?”
“Gazette? What business do you have there?”
“I need to meet someone.”
“Hm.”
The woman wiped her damp hands on her apron and eyed me carefully.
With my hood pulled low, she could barely see my face, yet her scrutinizing gaze felt as if it could pierce through the fabric.
Then, clicking her tongue, she waved me off dismissively.
“I wouldn’t know. People like that don’t exactly make their whereabouts public.”
“Even the smallest bit of information would be helpful. Are you sure there’s nothing?”
“If you’re that curious, ask that boy over there. He delivers newspapers every day.”
That boy?
I followed the direction of her pointing finger.
There, slinging a wooden box around his neck, was a freckled boy selling newspapers.
He wore a tattered brown cap, tilted low over his eyes, making his already innocent face look even more naïve.
So, he’s the delivery boy.
The box he held was filled with the latest edition of the Gazette.
The newspapers were neatly stacked, looking crisp as if freshly printed.
After thanking the woman, I walked toward the boy.
“Get your latest edition! Fresh off the press! Today’s issue has the latest news about the Hero—”
“Hello.”
“…And updates on—hic!”
The boy hiccupped in surprise at my sudden greeting.
His wide eyes trembled as he stared at me.
After a moment of tense silence, he cautiously lowered his guard, peering up at me from under my hood.
“What do you need? Are you here to buy a paper?”
“Yes, I’ll buy one. But I also have a question for you.”
“A question?”
The boy hesitated, his fingers frozen over the stack of newspapers.
His brows furrowed, as if struggling to predict what I might ask.
“Do you know where Gazette is?”
“Gazette…? Yeah, I do. But why do you need to go there?”
“I need to meet someone there.”
If I could see Sehir, that would be ideal.
But even just meeting Alexander would be enough.
Though I hadn’t arranged an appointment in advance, I figured waiting around might get me a chance to see him.
It was impolite, but I had no time to waste.
The boy seemed hesitant.
Perhaps he had been warned not to share information about Gazette’s location.
His expression revealed his internal struggle, his small forehead creasing in concentration.
While waiting for his response, my gaze drifted to the newspapers he was selling.
I vaguely recalled hearing him mention Kaindel earlier.
If there was an article about him, I was curious to know what it said.
Just as I was about to skim the front page—
“Follow me!”
The boy suddenly made up his mind, his expression lightening as he turned on his heels.
I barely had time to read the first line before I was forced to set my curiosity aside and chase after him.
Through a series of winding alleyways, the boy led me to an old, run-down building.
A two-story house, small and dilapidated.
Cracks ran along the walls, and the roof looked like it would leak whenever it rained.
…This is Gazette?
For such a well-known newspaper, I had expected a grander office.
Instead, this place wasn’t even fit for an ordinary household.
The dried-up grass in the yard crumbled underfoot, as though everything here was on the verge of falling apart.
It had to be a mistake.
Even though the boy had stopped in front of the building, I was certain this wasn’t the place.
There was no printing press, nor was there space for the many workers that a publication like Gazette would require.
Even if their workshop was elsewhere, the editors should at least be stationed here—but the atmosphere was anything but lively.
Instead, it felt eerie.
Just as I was about to question him, the boy gestured toward the building with his chin.
“We’re here!”
“…This is the place?”
“Yeah! Now that I’ve brought you here, I’ll be off—”
He nodded vigorously, then suddenly clapped his hands together, as if remembering something important.
“Oh, and here! Your newspaper.”
“Thanks. How much is it?”
Right, I had agreed to buy one.
I had nearly forgotten. It felt wrong to have dragged him all the way here without at least compensating him in some way.
Reaching into my robe’s pocket, I pulled out a small bundle of coins.
But as I looked at him, the boy confidently raised a single finger, wagging it playfully.
“Just one!”
“One?”
Ah, so he meant that I only needed to give him one coin.
The abrupt remark made me pause for a moment, but I soon understood what the boy meant.
When I took out a single coin and handed it to him, he immediately bid me a good day and walked away.
It seemed that a single coin was indeed the price.
I watched the boy’s retreating figure for a moment before shifting my gaze back to the building.
Even though it had been abandoned for a long time, it still looked sturdy enough to be believable.
Was this really the place known as “Gazette”?
It was so far from what I had imagined that I felt almost dumbfounded.
Just as I was about to scoff at the absurdity, someone stepped out from the building.
“Damn it. Looks like I won’t be going home today either.”
A man emerged, holding a pipe between his lips, his weary eyes muttering the words more than speaking them.
As he bit down on the pipe and struck a match, our eyes met.
“…….”
“…….”
A brief silence stretched between us.
Through the wisps of curling gray smoke, the man met my gaze—and the moment he did, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if recognizing me.
* * *
