Chapter 6 - Prince Red Riding Hood

Translator's Note:

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Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

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Lil had never experienced this before. Just being looked at—truly looked at—filled his chest to bursting. It overwhelmed even the fear that had consumed him just moments before.

 

If he finds my eyes as beautiful as I find his… if he feels the same about my skin, my hair… if he could see me the way I see him now, if he wanted to become my friend—my true friend, someone I could trust completely—how happy I would be. Maybe that's too much to hope for, someone like me with these cursed eyes… but I want to know him. I want to be close to him.

 

Perhaps he only seemed so dazzling because Lil saw him as a savior—but no. The feeling blooming in his heart was real. Even if they had met under ordinary circumstances, Lil would have seen him as special.

 

And now—after meeting his eyes, after this gaze—he was held captive by it, breathless and spellbound.

 

"To think a prince of the realm—without raising a hand to fight—would so naively expect a stranger to save him… That kind of innocence is aggravating. It makes me not want to help," Klaus said, voice low and flat.

 

"—!"

 

"…Is what I'd like to say. But really, there's no sense in expecting a child to put up a fight in that state. Royalty or not, a child is still a child. I'll let it go for now."

 

Klaus exhaled, partway between a sigh and a grumble, then glanced back at Lil.

 

"Close your eyes."

 

He gave the command almost lazily.

 

But instead of obeying, Lil's eyes flew wide open.

 

He couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself from following Klaus's every movement with his gaze.

 

"Ugh—!"

 

Behind Klaus, one of the woodsmen had drawn a knife—but in the next breath, he was hurled aside like a rag doll, Klaus's arm moving too fast to follow.

 

It happened so quickly, Lil barely understood what had just occurred.

 

The other two stood frozen in shock.

 

Klaus now held the very knife that had been in the man's hand. He gave it a flick, kicking it beneath the bed, and without pause, hurled the second man through the air as well.

 

That strength… It's not human…!

 

Their cries overlapped, dull and strangled. One man, seized by the scruff of the neck, was tossed about like a kitten.

 

A grown man—whose bulk had felt as heavy as stone when he'd grabbed Lil—was effortlessly lifted nearly to the ceiling and slammed down against the dirt-covered floor.

 

Groaning and wheezing from pain, the brothers were driven back toward the center of the hut.

 

Klaus herded them with dispassionate precision, yanking at collars, kicking at their sides, until he gathered the three beneath the thick support beam that held up the roof.

 

The men, now trembling beneath Klaus's cold stare, didn't even try to fight back. Though the door behind them stood ajar, not one of them made a move to flee.

 

Spines slackened, they slumped against the beam, pressing close together, shivering.

 

As Lil looked at them, something stirred in his heart—an ache of sympathy.

 

Yes, they had kidnapped him. Yes, they had treated him cruelly, wounded his heart as deeply as they had his dignity, mocking his eyes and shaming his body. But still… he remembered their smiles.

 

Once, those same men had greeted him cheerfully.

 

Whatever had driven them to such violence—there must have been a reason. They wouldn't have turned so heartless over something as simple as the color of his eyes.

 

There had to be more—something tied to the worn, ragged state they now appeared in.

 

He couldn't just accept his survival and let the matter rest. Not without understanding.

 

"Why did you do this?" Lil sat up on the bed, pulling his red hood over his head and wrapping the cloak around his body to cover himself fully. "What made you hate me so much?"

 

The brothers didn't answer. The eldest leaned against the pillar, while the younger two knelt at his feet, all three grimacing with pain. They glared at Lil—but remained silent.

 

"Please," Lil said gently. "Tell me what happened. What drove you to this?"

 

"Answer the boy," Klaus said, his voice low but firm from where he stood between the bed and the pillar. "Even scum who'd attack a child must have some kind of reason. If you wanted to be heard, you should've spoken before reaching for violence."

 

The three men finally stopped glaring at Lil. They exchanged glances. Words seemed unnecessary between them—something passed through their eyes alone.

 

"…I'll talk."

 

To Lil's surprise, it was the youngest who spoke up.

 

Far more disheveled than Lil remembered from the days when they worked the western woods, he now bled from scrapes on his face, thrown there by Klaus. His hair and beard were filthy, tangled and matted. Though he looked no older than his twenties, gray streaks had already crept into his hairline. His cheeks were sunken, his complexion pale, and in his dark brown eyes, tears of helpless fury welled.

 

"…It all started the day I drew the sacrificial lot."

 

"The sacrificial… lot?" Lil echoed.

 

"That's right!" the man snapped. "If I hadn't been chosen, we could've gone on living our lives as simple woodcutters in the western forest. I knew if I went, I'd die. Of course I refused! I wanted to live! Yeah, I knew they'd call me a coward—but we're allowed to refuse! It's our right! What's wrong with wanting to live?! You begged us for your life, didn't you? You clung to a stranger from another land to save you—just like I tried to cling to mine!"

 

His voice rose to a cry as he trembled, tears flowing freely down his dirty cheeks.

 

He fell forward with a guttural sob, slamming his fists into the floor again and again.

 

"My little brother did nothing wrong! He was about to get married—of course he wanted to live!"

 

"W–Wait…" Lil stammered. "That sacrificial lot… is it the one used to choose who will be offered to the Wolf King on the night of the full moon?"

 

He had only understood a fraction of their story, but at that question, one of the older brothers shouted, "Don't mock us!"

 

The two elder brothers, who had inched forward to shield the weeping youngest, froze when Klaus cast a sharp look their way. They dared not approach Lil, who sat quietly on the bed. Instead, they locked eyes with him, teeth clenched, hatred burning in their gaze.

 

"What else could it be?" one growled. "Our brother was chosen as a sacrifice. He exercised his right to refuse. The drawing of the lot is supposed to be voluntary. Being chosen is considered an honor, and most don't question it—but the law grants everyone the right to say no! Every man in Vallcent has that right!"

 

"That's right!" the other barked. "He did nothing but claim the freedom he was owed. And for that, they treated him like filth. Is it wrong to want to live? Do we deserve to be punished for that!?"

 

Their fury exploded into the air, their voices rough with tears and spit.

 

It was clear now: the root of their anger was the full-moon sacrifice.

 

Lil had known about it for as long as he could remember. But it had always seemed like something distant, sacred, and inevitable—a ritual that happened with every full moon, carried out smoothly, quietly, as though it were a law of nature. He had never given it much thought.

 

To keep the magic-infused, monstrously large wolves from breaching Vallcent's borders, it wasn't enough to rely solely on the holy barrier. The Wolf King had to be appeased. A sacrifice had to be made.

 

Long ago, the first king of Vallcent, a holy man capable of weaving sacred wards, had forged a pact with the Wolf King. If that pact was ever broken—if the wolves went hungry—they would rise as a horde and tear down the barrier.

 

And if the barrier fell, it would not just be wolves that poured through.

 

The beasts under the Wolf King's command—creatures of countless terrifying kinds—would breach the gap all at once, and the blessed power of the wards would falter at the point of invasion.

 

No saint now alive had the ability to mend such a breach. Once a section of the barrier fell, it became a path of nightmares.

 

To offer up a life on the full moon and honor the ancient vow—that was the price of their peace.

 

That's why the chosen sacrifice was seen as a hero of the realm. And Lil too had honored their courage, had been taught to respect the devotion of those who fulfilled that role.

 

 

 

 

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