Chapter 8

At this time of the day, the shops that still had lights on were mostly pubs and brothels.

Since Yuuri was summoned to the Empire of the Demons, Conrad had come to stay in the royal palace. But during the recent decade, he had had numerous opportunities to travel to foreign countries.

The capital of subera was large, but at night the streets were deserted. The bars were bursting with drunken soldiers, but there were no young women in the brothels. Perhaps there weren't enough customers, since all the men were faithful to their wives and only prudish romantic relationships were allowed?

"I don't feel well," Wolfram murmured after trotting in silence next to Conrad for a long time. "This city is full of elements that obey the exorcism. And the number of exorcists themselves is huge."

Since he was not sure if their aimless wandering would be fruitful, Conrad said: "I have no spark of magic in me, so I feel nothing. But if you can't stand it anymore, you can rest in a hostel..."

"Oh, shut up."

As long as Wolfram had enough strength to make insolent retorts, he would not collapse yet, Conrad thought. Given his headstrong younger brother, he sighed and gave up trying to urge him to return.

Since the mining of exorcist-stones was encouraged, the climate of this country had become strange. Although the region had always been suffered from drought, the rainy season used to bring enough rainfall. But those days were over. The crops withered in the fields and the cattle died - the amount of food domestically produced had reached the lowest point and the country was no longer self-sufficient. Instead, the rare exorcist stones were now traded for food in the international market. High-quality stones were sold at horrendous prices, while those of inferior quality were squandered at dumping prices in the domestic market.

Only the privileged wealthy class was able to further increase their wealth, while the majority of people suffered from hunger and thirst. The fact that no one had died from famine so far was probably because at least one member from each family toiled in the mines. It was believed that high-quality exorcist stones could only be excavated by women and children.

After they passed by a brothel without seeing any women, Conrad asked about his other half-brother's strength.

"Would Gwendal be able to use his magic in this city where so many elements obey the exorcism?"

"My brother would still be a great warrior without his magical power. But yeah, I know very few who would still have full command of their magic in a territory so hostile to the demons. Our mother would be able to do so."

His emerald-green eyes darkened, his handsome eyebrows drew together. It was not often that Wolfram hesitated.

"And perhaps Julia Susannah too. I can think of no one else."

"That does not sound good," said Conrad, but he tried not to look too worried."

They walked toward a two-storey building around the corner. As soon as they left the main street and turned into a small alley, they were immediately swallowed in darkness. There were no streetlights. Without the lights from the houses and shops, their eyes could rely only on the dim light from the moon and the stars.

"I just hope that at least one of our troops finds His Majesty," Conrad said.

"We were supposed to meet in the capital, that was settled. I can't imagine that they would not wait for us. I'm sure we owe it again to Yuuri's thick skull that they aren't staying at a hostel. It seems the whole thing was mistaken for a pleasure trip."

And that too from your mouth, Wolfram, Conrad thought and he could only manage to suppress a laugh.

As they were passing by the back side of a brothel, a slender shadow darted out from a stone staircase into the street. Since neither had the time to step aside, they inevitably collided.

This person was bigger than a child. Judging from the body, it could very well be a boy.

"Oh, excuse me."

"Yuuri, is that you?"

Conrad was shocked at the name coming out of his lips. This person, from the depths of his memories, did not even bear a close resemblance to Yuuri.

"How could this be Yuuri?" Wolfram exclaimed with an irritated voice. "Do you have tomatoes on your eyes or what? Yuuri is a lot more gentle and elegant. Moreover, this is a girl - even if she is flat as a board."

"You know Yuuri?" The girl said in amazement.

She took the scarf covering her head down, and stared at the others in the moonlight. She looked alternately at Conrad and Wolfram, and finally her eyes rested on the blond, pretty boy.

"You're a demon, right? You have an extremely beautiful face. Are you friends of Yuuri?"

Conrad hesitated, but Wolfram snorted irritably: "Friends? This must be a joke! Yuuri is my betrothed."

"Really?" Cried the girl.

She was perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. Without concealing her feelings, her large eyes wandered back and forth uncontrollably under long and dark lashes.

"That would mean that ... that you're ... So then you'd be..." she stammered.

"What?" Wolfram said impatiently.

"Then you are the younger brother, whose fianc has run off with your own elder brother?"

"What are you saying?"

In an instant, Wolfram's face had turned visibly red even in the pale moonlight. At the same time, steam seemed to be rising from his head.

"Conrad, what does that mean?" He yelled. "My brother and Yuuri! This cannot be true! I knew it! He's a wimpy cheater! "

"Wolfram, calm down. It is certainly not what it looks like."

"But yes, the two are surely a couple," the girl said. "I've seen them with my own eyes. The poor guys were on the run. They were chained together with handcuffs."

"Chained together?"

It had to be boiling water inside Wolfram's head.

"Please don't be angry with them. They seemed very happy to be together. They even picked matching fake names for themselves."

"There must be a good reason for this," Conrad tried to mitigate the situation.

"That I don't know. But Yuuri and this tall cousin of Huber's get along very well. Please, can't you forgive them and rescue them? I would have liked to help them, but I could barely escape myself. I thought maybe I could gain some time if I hide in a place where there are many young women. So I went to this brothel. But you know what? There is no woman here at all! Only young men! I'm seriously worried about what will become of our country!"

The Lord Betrothed has gone completely out of his mind with fury and was by then torturing an innocent garbage can with his feet. Conrad decided to let Wolfram vent his rage. He turned around and put a hand on the shoulder of the girl who was about to break out in tears.

"Do you know where His Majes ... I mean, Yuuri and his companion had gone?"

"At least I can tell you where they were taken. I would have shared the same fate. They would have to stand trial. And if they do not formally swear that they will forever part ways, then ..."

She nervously rubbed her palms on her clothes that did not fit her very well.

"... Then one of them will be thrown into the camp."

The sound of a large and heavy piece of luggage thrown on the floor penetrated my ears, and I slowly came back to consciousness. My arms and legs didn't seem to belong to me. Even if I wanted, I did not have the strength to lift them.

It took me some time to figure out that the piece of luggage was myself. Above me I heard voices. Based on the conversation they were sharing, I had the impression that they weren't particularly bright people.

"Man, look at that, ey. That's not a girl, ey! Isn't it totally crazy to bring a boy here? He can still dig no exorcist-stones, ey."

"Don't you stop to think, ey. It fits. Man, we do what we say. They put the bigger one into prison. Since there is but one camp for the women, they had no choice but to put the kid here, ey. Otherwise, the two guys would be back together again."

If I understood correctly, Gwendal and I were not together anymore. As promised, the white Iroquois had taken the chains off of us, but apparently we had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. Gwendal was in prison, and I could not even move yet.

"It has recently become very common in the capital, ey."

"So it has become."

"Yeah man, so it has become, ey."

I heard the loud crash of a door brutally flung open. My spine landed on the ground. At last I could feel something, even if it was searing pain. I opened my mouth trying to speak and tried hard to pull open my clamped eyelids.

"Ah... Ouch... "

Many pairs of feet approached trampling on the wooden floor. In my vision, blurred as if covered by a thin veil, I saw pale sky through a small ceiling window: a new day had dawned. Suddenly a face shoved into my sight, right above me - then another and another and another and another.

"Look how young! Are his skin and cheeks as soft as they look? Oh shame, unfortunately they aren't."

Those women touched me in all imaginable places - it was both pleasing and embarrassing at the same time.

"If the boy landed here in the camp with us, that means he is also ..."

"Enough now, girls! It will be morning soon. Let him rest a bit," said an authoritative voice.

They quickly prepared an additional sleeping place in the hall. The lady ordered four women to move over there. I could only see her face dimly, but given the way she commanded the women, she was probably the leader of this group.

The bed was more like a cot with a thin blanket on top. It was as comfortable as a park bench.

"Uh, excuse me? What type of facility do we have here?" I asked as politely as possible.

"This hole is where they dispose of the women who have rebelled against the gods and the community, and have lost everything. They say that even sinners like us can still be of benefit, by digging exorcist-stones," the boss said sarcastically, but once again her voice took on a caring tone. "But why is a boy like you in such a place?"

"I was falsely accused of running away."

"You ran away? Martha, who is sleeping over there, did the same thing."

The boss looked at the bed next to us. In the dim light, I could see a girl with dull blond hair rolled-up in her sleep. Her back turned toward me, I could see the curve of her back under the plain old dress.

"This girl had an affair with her married employer. They had planned to flee to the neighboring country, but her lover did not show up at the appointed place. He had got cold feet and withdrawn."

Even if Martha could overhear our conversation, she didn't show it. She lay still like a fetus, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"This guy is probably still leading a peaceful and comfortable life in the city. Even Martha's newborn child has been taken away. Since then, she no longer says a word," the boss said with a sigh.

Given what usually shown in historical movies, she seemed very young to be the leader of a group of prisoners.

"But if they have planned to run away together, both must be punished!"

"Wrong. It's always the woman's fault, for she has seduced the man. And since the guy has sworn that he was tricked and he didn't want to have anything to do with such a woman, he was set free. Your partner has been thrown into prison?"

"Apparently, yes."

"That means until the end he did not abandon you.You are to be envied, being loved so much."

I couldn't help having goose bumps all over. But this is definitely not the way things happened!

With the daylight, the room gradually became brighter, and I could see what it looked like. Five bunk beds stood against the left and the right walls, leaving only a narrow passage in between. The room was cramped, dark and grim - similar to the prison from which the young Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke has broken out.

The woman, who talked to me, had shockingly skinny hands and legs, with knuckles bulging out. She looked over thirty, but probably she was much younger. She was not exactly a beautiful woman, but her eyes shone with a strong will, and they gave the impression of strength and self-confidence.

Outside, a trumpet blared. My roommates, who had slept till now, immediately sprang from their beds. With incredible speed, they slipped into their work clothes. If they had been in a late-night TV show, they could have won a tight competition for 10,000 yen.

"What's your name?" the boss asked me, while she tied her shoe laces.

Who was I again? Oh yes!

"Mabo! My name is Mabo!"

"I'm Norika. Well then, Mabo! The jailer will be here soon. If you're not ready by then, there won't be breakfast."

I managed to sit up. My muscles and joints hurt as if I had played a double-header game the previous day. If I did not do some stretching, my body would have to bear unpleasant consequences the whole day.

"Stand up!"

As typically shown in American movies, a prison guard opened the door, a club dangling on his hip. His eyes immediately fell on me because I still had not been able to stand up straight.

"Collective punishment!" He shouted, and disappeared again.

Angry voices and sighs filled the room. It was clear that they would have to start the day on an empty stomach.

"What was that? Was that my fault? I'm sorry, please forgive me," I shouted to everyone in the room.

"It's okay. After all, you had no idea. Things never go well on the first day," Norika laughed feebly, trying to comfort me.

Still, I felt guilty. No one would get breakfast, it was not healthy at all.

I tried to make my aching muscles move so that I could at least make it to the roll call.

"Why did they put me here in the women's quarter?" I asked.

"Where else? There are only women camps around here."

"Oh."

I followed the women out.

Endless dry land spread out in front of me, with nothing in sight but a rocky mountain, sand, and some withered trees. A miniature Ayers Rock. The facility itself housed six cabins with a total of over one hundred inmates.

The bare rock surface was riddled with numerous holes. The women formed lines and climbed into the shafts one by one without saying a word to each other. Everything went quietly and in order. The workers were all skinny, dirty and exhausted. They were bound together with chains around their hips.

Not another chain, I thought.

The sun already shone very strong. Sweat immediately poured out from every pore on my skin. It was impossible to see how the mine was designed, but it couldn't be very comfortable inside.

This was clearly forced labor!

Just because they fell in love with someone they were not supposed to be in love with, they were forced to be slave laborers. What was going on with this country?

I was instructed not to enter the mine. Along with four or five other male convicts, I was to haul heavy bags under the blazing sun. The women dug up mountains of spotted stones, among which there were shiny gold pebbles now and then. Everything was pulled out of the mine on carts. In a square area outside, older women sorted the output into piles of comparably sized stones and filled linen pouches with those. These pouches were then packed more carefully into bags, which we carried to the warehouse.

This was a mine of exorcists-stones.

The other men were all bearded, burly guys. Since I had no desire to be plagued by nightmares for three nights, I avoided them. I imagined the circumstances that brought them here.

At any moment, the guards were ready to pound down on the prisoners with their sticks, sometimes even with shovels and hoes. After having towed a few bags, I began to believe that this horrific and surreal scene could be just a bad dream. In the middle of a summer holiday in the 21st century, I was torn away from the Sea World in Saitama, Japan, and thrown into a forced labor camp. And it might not be for just one day. In the end I might have to drag these heavy bags of shit at the foot of this mini Ayers Rock for all eternity. Perhaps I would never be able to get out of here again.

Or maybe it was all just a dream! I might be in fact taking a nap on the floor at my home in Japan, and something like a beast was sitting on my chest, which caused me this nightmare. I tried pinching, cutting and kicking myself to wake up, but it didn't help. The damned dream went on and on and on.

A small corner of my soul trusted that someone would come to my rescue. I only needed to grit my teeth for a little while longer. I was certain Conrad would eventually show up and save me. I kept looking out for him with each trip to and from the mine.

But how about Gwendal? The dungeon was definitely no picnic either.

My ears turned red with shame for my own selfishness. I'm fine, Conrad. Please save your brother first. I can stick it out for at least another week. I could imagine that I was in a super tough training camp for professional baseball players. I had to consider this whole thing as nothing more than a hard basic training, although I could not get rid of the feeling that I was building some unnecessary muscle groups here. I struggled with bags after bags full of stones that pierced into my shoulder, staggering toward the warehouse, a construction much more splendid than our quarter. I would have been much more useful if I had had a bath and breakfast.

After the lunch break, for which we got only a tiny ration of water, a guard grabbed my collar and dragged me to a hut. The sun glared down relentlessly through the sky.

"Is this the new boy we got today?" Asked a voice.

The funny man who just spoke to us sat in a rocking chair on a wooden porch, sipping a glass of red liquid, as if he was enjoying his holiday. His hair, eyebrows and beard were of different colors. I immediately gave him the nickname Tricolor.

"Yes, that's the boy, Master Togrikol."

Hey, I had almost hit the mark!

Togrikol's small son sat on his knees. The boy looked about six years old. Unlike his father, he had ordinary brown hair and eyebrows. Of course he hadn't got a beard yet.

"Who's that?" I muttered gruffly.

The heat and the empty stomach had made me throw all my manners to the wind and even ignore the possibility that this man could be an important person.

Tricolor-Junior, who had clung to the knee of his father, raised his little voice like a child star in a musical show.

"My father is an important man, he will find in this mine the best exorcists-stone in the world!"

"For all I care," I said, "he should kindly climb into the shaft and dig himself."

More than ten workers nearby turned around and shot sharp glances like arrows in my direction. They probably feared another collective punishment.

Togrikol stroked his red beard, and turned to his son.

"Nello, do you want to play with this boy?"

"Yes, plaaaayyy!"

The child hopped down the steps and threw himself hard against my hip. Although he was only a small preschooler, I began to stumble and fell. All who had observed us went back to what they were doing.

But if I slacked off, I wouldn't even get dinner. I started to move back towards the square area where the women were filling up the bags. Tricolor-Junior had, however, clung to my legs so tightly that it was incredibly difficult to lift them up.

"Plaaaayyy, plaaaayyy, plaaaayyy!"

"Okay, okay! But only if you can guarantee me a dinner," I growled.

"You can have dinner at our home. Our chef cooks delicious food!"

"You guys have your own chef?"

This boy looked strong and muscular for his age, which brought back in my mind the image of a little boy, falling and crying in the small alley, Jilda. They had the same height, but Tricolor-Junior had thicker shoulders and neck. Was it just because they were born into different families that they would grow up to be so different? Clutching at my hips, Nello looked up to me with begging eyes.

"Okay, okay, all right, I'll play with you." Since his father was the chief warden, I probably wouldn't get my head bitten off if I did not return to work.

"What do you want to play? Wait, I know! How about throwing balls?"

"No, horse!"

Instinctively I looked around but there were no horse in sight.

"How about we go to the large sand dune over there, and I'll draw a horse for you? But you must not expect too much, I'm very bad at drawing."

"Horse!" Tricolor Junior cried again.

"Okay, okay, I'm drawing your horse now. I'll try my best not to make it look like a giraffe... woa!"

Tricolor Junior had jumped on my back without any warning. My spine groaned under the weight of this well-fed six-year-old.

"Oh, I am supposed to be the horse? But this is a stupid game."

"Run!" Nello yelled and slapped me on the butt. It would be useless talking to such a little preschooler about human rights.

The boy squealed happily and I ran. No other choice. Strictly speaking, I crawled on all fours. I tried to convince myself that this was also a work out for certain muscle groups. At any rate I didn't make quite an elegant sight as the Black Beauty.

When we had gone for about 200 meters away, we noticed a strange scene in the shadow of the rocks. A guard was holding a bundle under his arm while another was digging into the sandy ground with a spade. In front of us were innumerable small mounds the size of basketballs.

"What are they doing there?"

"These are graves. They must be burying a baby again," said Nello, his voice showed absolutely no emotion as if he was stating a matter of fact.

"They are burying what?"

"A baby. These are their tombs. The larger ones over there are tombs of the adults."

On the graves there were neither tombstones nor flowers.

Since I had shown interest, Tricolor-Junior rose from my back and proudly explained.

"These women are bad people who don't actually deserve any grave. But because my father is great and gracious, he still has them buried when they die."

"But why are the babies here?" I asked.

"Well, women make babies, stupid."

I felt a strong desire to smack the boy across his ear, but I held back. These were certainly not his own words, but those his father taught him.

"All these women are bad, because they se...se...seduced the men. That's why they are brought here. Then they bring the babies into the world. But no one wants these babies, so they die."

"Say that to your mother."

Tricolor-Junior was a bit surprised. Still smiling, he asked:

"Say what to my mother? What I've just said? "

"Yes, tell her what you've just said. In fact, tell your teachers as well, and see what they have to say to you."

"Okay, I will. But why?"

"Because what you just said is wrong. And you may only complain about women when you have had your heart broken after your first love."

My first love was a glamorous woman with extremely beautiful legs that she liked to show off. Although she was Japanese, she had soft curly blond hair. I, an innocent preschooler, used to follow her like a stalker.

Then one day, in a public bath house, I saw her going into the men's bathroom. My first love was a man, a drag queen! Enough about this topic.

While I talked to Junior, the guard struggled with the spade. He dug a hole that was barely large enough for a rugby ball. The other put the bundle under his arm to the ground. It was a shapeless lump wrapped in a dirty cloth.

"Strange..." I muttered. I had the impression that the bundle had moved, almost imperceptibly.

Suddenly I heard the screams of women. When I looked around, I saw a group of women running towards the graves - Ms. Norika, the leader of my group, along with our roommates.

"Please wait! That's Martha's child! Four days ago he was taken away from her right after birth. She says that the child was still alive."

"Do you women really think that we would bury a living child? He neither cries nor moves. He's dead. We just want to give him a final resting place, damn it!"

Other guards came running; six of them pulled the chains on the female prisoners. One of the women let out a shrill cry, tore loose from the guards and tried to run to the grave.

"Damned woman!"

Tricolor quietly approached with several guards following behind. Stroking his beard, he looked at the prisoners, who were being beaten with batons and spades.

"What are they screaming about?" He asked.

My temples swelled briefly, but with an astonishing self-restraint, I immediately brought my emotions under control.

"She thinks that her baby was still alive, and she wants him back," one of the guards said with a greasy smile.

"Nonsense!" Tricolor laughed out loud.

Impulsive actions were never good. So far my hasty sense of justice had not brought anything good. At this moment, I must stay calm and bear with it. In any case, Conrad and Gunter were both not here to back me up. Even if Gwendal and Wolf had been here, they would have had their own problems to deal with. However, all my determination vanished as I heard what Tricolor had to say next.

"Even if that's the case, does it make a difference whether the bastard is still alive or dead?"

That was too much. My self-control was gone, never to return. I clenched my fists and bit my lip.

Last Friday evening, I saw a movie scene in which Bruce Willis, still had lots of hair on his head, single-handedly fought against a group of terrorists. My father said: "It's very difficult to fight against an overwhelmingly large number of the enemy, and he is all alone. He can't win."

But, didn't he win? Fighting against the enemy all alone was surely difficult, but there was still a difference between 'difficult' and 'impossible.'

"Stop!" I cried. "Of course it makes a difference! And even if the child is already dead, you ought to respect the dead a bit more! You could have at least read some prayers, and let the mother say goodbye to her child. That is how it should be done! You want to be a great chief warden? A disgrace to the title, that's you!"

"What's the problem with that new boy? Is he a preacher?"

"Hey, boy, shut your mouth up at once! Otherwise we'll throw you into the hole!"

The greasy smile on the guard's face was gone. He rushed up to me to stuff my mouth. With the I bent my upper body to dodge him, escaped his paws and head butted Tricolor.

"You can't silence me! There are still a few more things I have to say! What is all this nonsense? You can't clap with one hand! Why is it that you condemn the women only when they are involved in an illicit relationship? It takes two to fall in love and to make love; you can't blame it all on one!"

Now there was no turning back. I went off like a rocket.

"We must honor the equality between men and women in all situations. Besides, you are violating all basic human rights in this camp! An inspection of the UN would hold you accountable, you can bet on it!"

Togrikol glanced at me fleetingly out of the corner of his eye and turned back to look at the center of action.

The dust whirled up from the dry earth. More and more women came running, wailing and screaming. More and more guards joined in thrashing them. A small woman with disheveled hair and outstretched hands let out a shrill cry. The guards grabbed her clothes and dragged her backwards. Every time she would fall heavily to the ground, and every time she would relentlessly pick herself up, trying to move forward.

"He's alive! He's alive! I know it, she cried. "He is my child!"

It was the silent Martha, who had finally found her voice.

While his subordinates tried to bring the upheaval under control, the chief warden lifted the bundle. He obviously wanted to throw it into the grave.

Before I could convince myself that I had perhaps just become the victim of a hallucination, I already stormed off.

The bundle had moved!

Maybe the wind had just played me a prank, but in a flash of the cloth, I saw something dark red definitely moving.

"Stop!" I shouted.

The white-brown lump was thrown into the air. I saw him fall as if in slow motion, the torn cloth fluttering behind. The hole was exactly the right size, as if it had been measured. It was anxious to swallow the new inhabitant.

With all my strength I stretched out my arms, eyes firmly fixed on the bundle. The sand ruthlessly scalded my arms and elbows, but I pulled a head-sliding straight out of a textbook. My fingertips caught the bundle just in time. Quick as lightning I drew it to me and secured it.

"He moved!" I screamed.

And he did indeed! Through the thin fabric, I could even feel gentle warmth.

"He is still warm. He is not dead! This child is still alive!"

I was overwhelmed by my emotions, and could speak no more. With trembling fingers, I began to remove the wrapping cloth. The women were frozen in the air. Only Martha tearfully prayed in a croaking voice.

I sat on the floor; the warm, soft bundle lay on my knees. I anxiously lifted the last shreds off of him.

My mind froze for a moment. I was shocked, horrified and paralyzed.

"What have you done to him?" I finally asked in a hollow voice.

The baby was breathing. Even if only slightly, his narrow and dark red shriveled breast raised and lowered. Both eyes and mouth were closed, his skin was completely dry. Also, the clenched hands were not moving; the left arm was lying sideways on the belly. His right arm and his right leg were twisted unnaturally.

"What did you do to this child? How could you ..."

He was not even crying.

The mother had escaped the men and took her son into her arms. The other women were surrounded together in a circle, clubs and spades kept pounding down on them.

What barbarians!

The demon stone on my chest was burning hot on my skin, I could hardly breathe. In a corner somewhere in the depths of my skull, an electrical spark rushed through the synapses. The shock crept along my spine and, resonating with my heartbeat, exploded in my ears. The low and high-pitched ringings in my head struggled with unbearable ferocity against one another.

As in an explosion, where there was a yellow stretch of dry land, now I could see nothing but snow-white smoke. I was suddenly flooded with a euphoric bliss. One of my brain cells brought back the name of a person of unsurpassed beauty.

I will...

Who would?

What happened after that, I do not know.

(This translation was originally posted here. Please do not repost elsewhere.)