Chapter 63: The Old Man and the Rockdeer (1)
“Uh, that...”
“Uh...!”
The urgency of the situation had made everyone completely forget about the baby rockdeer’s existence.
—Kkoolook?
The creature tilted its head as if aware of the sudden attention focused on it.
When Veronica set it down from her lap, it stuck close to their legs instead of wandering away.
Philip said,
“It has no wariness toward humans at all.”
“Shouldn’t we return it to its herd? There might be other family members there.”
Veronica knelt and stroked the baby rockdeer’s head, her expression still heavy with guilt.
She seemed to feel partially responsible for the rockdeers’ deaths.
Philip muttered in agreement,
“If we leave it, it’ll probably die... The herd won’t come looking, and predators might get it first.”
“Yeah. Fran will definitely die if we leave him here.”
“Fran? That’s a boy’s name. How do you know it’s male?”
“He follows me so well. Definitely a male.”
“......”
The two glanced at Ray for his input.
As the group’s final decision-maker, Ray finally spoke:
“What do you think about that story we heard earlier?”
“Huh? Ah!”
“...Oh.”
They immediately grasped his meaning.
“You mentioned a blue-skinned rockdeer earlier! Fran’s blue too!”
“If it’s about gems, maybe there’s a rainbow connection. The body turning to water could be magical.”
They continued:
“But Fran doesn’t have a gem on his forehead. His blue is more faded too.”
“Right. The story itself isn’t verified anyway. Could just be fiction.”
Objectively, the idea of a sky-walking rockdeer was unbelievable - the kind of fantastical tale Grandma Viola would tell children.
They rationally understood the world wouldn’t drop rainbow clues so easily.
“When I climbed the car roof earlier, I saw what looked like his mother. Much darker blue.”
Ray added silently to himself that most “fated” encounters were just cruel coincidences.
This was likely just a mutation.
Yet he couldn’t shake his lingering attachment to the legend.
His gaze turned toward where the hunters’ vehicles and rockdeer herd had vanished.
‘The migration’s heading toward Sector 48.’
The mercenary captain’s words echoed in his mind:
「They’ll scatter upon reaching their destination, making hunting impossible. We’ve been herding them backward to extend the season.」
‘First, meet the client.’
If the legend proved true, they’d need to track the herd again.
To find a true blue rockdeer.
To confirm Fran wasn’t the mythical one.
‘Fran might help locate the herd.’
A slim chance, but preparation never hurt.
“We’ll take him. Better we find the herd ourselves.”
At Ray’s decision, Philip and Veronica brightened.
The next morning,
the group stepped deeper into Sector 48 after disembarking.
“There really are other sectors...”
“Yeah. Our home wasn’t everything.”
The revelation shocked Philip and Veronica, despite their intellectual understanding.
Though larger, this sector’s oppressive gloom felt identical to home.
Their initial wonder faded quickly as they refocused.
Philip pointed:
“22nd Street should be this way. There’s a sign.”
Their priority was Hotel Gallot:
「Located on central 22nd Street. High-end accommodation for outsiders.」
They knew its appearance from Skyle’s information.
After some walking:
“Hey kids, let’s have a look at you!”
A gang of street boys blocked their path - unkempt but sharp-eyed, larger than their peers.
“New faces. Where you from?”
“Who said you could enter our turf?”
Ray’s group stood out painfully among the sector’s street urchins.
‘Pick fights wisely.’
‘Go easy, Ray.’
Philip and Veronica offered mental condolences as they followed into an alley.
Thud! Crack! Aaah! Mercy!
Under a minute later, the gang knelt bleeding before Ray.
“Your leader’s name.”
After panicked glances, they blurted:
“L-Leonard! 176cm, 86kg! Hates cheese! Butt mole! Got rejected by Ellis six times!”
...More than asked, but Ray continued:
“Tell Leonard: Meet at Hotel Gallot. We have work.”
The job involved information-gathering - three people couldn’t cover everything.
When Ray spilled high-value coins, the boys’ eyes glinted with greed.
This pattern repeated five more times as they crossed the sector.
“Hope that’s the last,” Ray muttered as another gang approached.
The sector’s size meant numerous territorial groups.
After the sixth beating, Philip suggested:
“What if we change clothes?”
In Sector 49, familiar faces granted passage. Here, their worn outfits marked them as outsiders.
“Dress like higher-sector folks. Might deter attackers.”
Ray considered. In Sector 50, clothes meant nothing - everyone wore similar rags.
But Veronica nodded eagerly, already imagining outfits.
“We’re heading to a luxury hotel anyway. Should wash up first.”
Ray reluctantly agreed - Philip’s advice usually worked.
At the boutique:
Jingle—
“Welco—” The clerk’s greeting died as he saw them.
‘More grubby local kids.’
He’d serviced enough rich outsiders to feel superior to his own sector.
“Listen, this place isn’t—”
Clink-clink-clink!
Ray dumped gleaming coins on the counter.
“We need clothes.”
The clerk’s demeanor flipped instantly:
“Right this way!”
