Dood Town.

  As Glenn neared the outskirts, he noticed an unusual sight—patrols of armed officers sweeping through the area in tight formation. Their presence was far from ordinary.

  Has something happened here recently? Judging by the scale of their mobilization, it must be something serious.

  He paused for a moment to observe, then continued onward.

  “Stop! State your business,” one of the officers barked, stepping into his path.

  “Bringing pigs into town for sale,” Glenn replied evenly, stepping aside to reveal his cart.

  The lead officer gave a subtle signal, and the others closed in, surrounding the cart. They prodded and turned the carcasses over, one even drawing a dagger to slit open the flesh and check for abnormalities.

  Glenn merely stood to the side, watching their inspection with indifference. Their rough handling would do nothing to spoil the meat.

  After a while, drenched in sweat and finding nothing amiss, the officers gave up. They exchanged weary glances and shook their heads at their captain.

  “Let him through,” the leader finally said.

  Glenn stepped forward, grasped the heavy boar with one hand, and effortlessly set it straight again. The officers froze, eyes wide with disbelief.

  “That fellow looks lean, but good heavens—what strength!” one of them muttered as Glenn hauled the cart into town.

  …

  Business was far quieter this time, though Glenn wasn’t surprised. If trade had flourished as wildly as it had the last two visits, he would have drained the town’s wealth dry within months.

  Still, even this subdued market earned him far more than an ordinary household could hope for. He maintained his warm smile, exchanging banter with familiar faces, his easy humor winning back a few regulars.

  Just as he was finishing a sale, a bright, familiar voice called out—

  “Mr. Glenn!”

  He turned. Layla came running toward him, holding her skirts in both hands, her delicate face radiant with joy.

  “Miss Layla, long time no see. No school today?” Glenn asked with a smile, wiping his bloodstained hands on a rag.

  “That’s right. My friends wanted to go out for a walk, and they dragged me along,” Layla laughed, eyes curved like crescents. Then she looked around in surprise. “Are you selling meat? This must be quite a profitable business!”

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  “There are plenty of wild animals near my village,” Glenn explained casually. “Hunting them brings a fair bit of coin.”

  “That’s impressive,” Layla said sincerely, then hesitated with a trace of guilt. “Am I interrupting your trade?”

  Her anxious tone amused him. “Not at all,” he said, waving a hand. “Don’t be so formal. You’re not in the way.”

  They were about to continue when a voice interrupted them.

  “Layla, is this gentleman a friend of yours?”

  A red-haired, slightly plump boy approached, flanked by two young men and a blonde girl.

  “These are my classmates and friends—Bork, Meyer, Deyamela, and Pelnas,” Layla introduced cheerfully, then turned to her companions. “Everyone, this is Mr. Glenn. He’s a very kind man.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Glenn,” the three boys greeted politely.

  Only the blonde girl—Pelnas—kept her hand over her nose, looking away with faint disgust, refusing to meet Glenn’s eyes. She stood well back from the stall as though afraid to draw too near.

  Glenn acknowledged their greetings with a nod, then let his gaze linger briefly on the aloof girl, smiling faintly, meaningfully.

  “Forgive her, Mr. Glenn,” Layla said awkwardly. “Pelnas has a rather peculiar temperament.”

  Glenn was about to dismiss it with a smile, but Layla, flustered, turned on her friend. She tugged the girl’s sleeve, whispering sharply, “Pelnas, that’s terribly rude! Apologize to Mr. Glenn at once!”

  Instead, Pelnas frowned and retorted coldly, “Layla, my dear friend, why are you keeping company with someone like him? Look at him—covered in filth, reeking of blood. It’s revolting! Let’s go. Don’t waste your time here.”

  Layla froze, stunned. She could hardly believe those words came from her friend’s lips.

  Though Pelnas was of noble birth, she had always been gentle and unassuming among them. Layla had thought her different from those haughty noble daughters who looked down on commoners—but now…

  Her face flushed red with anger. She could not bear the contempt in Pelnas’s tone.

  Though Glenn stood several paces away, his sharpened hearing caught every word.

  Seeing the tension rise, he stepped in smoothly before the friendship could splinter beyond repair.

  “Layla,” he said lightly, “where’s that little glutton of yours? The one who’s always hungry—Bonnie, wasn’t it? Didn’t she come with you?”

  Layla, still fuming, blinked in surprise at the question. She shot Pelnas a glare, puffed out her cheeks, and hurried back to Glenn’s stall, leaving her bewildered friend behind.

  The three boys could only exchange helpless looks, utterly lost on what had just transpired.

  “Mr. Glenn,” Layla said at last, voice soft with embarrassment, “I must apologize again for Pelnas. She truly isn’t herself today.”

  Glenn stopped her with a hand before she could bow. “Enough of that. Your mother raised you to be far too polite. I won’t hold a grudge against a young girl.”

  Perhaps it was out of respect for her savior—or something deeper—but Layla always carried herself with careful grace around him.

  Her cheeks warmed as she murmured, “I truly am sorry.”

  Not far away, Pelnas, who had been covering her nose, stiffened when she heard Glenn refer to her as “little girl.” She turned sharply, anger flashing in her eyes—but she bit it back, lips pressed thin.

  Glenn noticed and smiled inwardly.

  “So,” he asked, turning back to Layla, “answer my question. Why didn’t Bonnie come along today?”

  A faint shadow crossed Layla’s expression. “Bonnie… hasn’t been in good spirits. She didn’t want to go out.”

  “Because of your—” Glenn caught himself before saying father, coughed lightly, and rephrased, “because of the danger you all faced that day?”

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Mr. Glenn, how did you know?”

  “The officers came to see me,” he said with a shrug. “Hard not to know.”

  “You mean they questioned you?” she asked, worried. “They didn’t trouble you, did they?”

  “No, they only wanted the details of what happened. Nothing more.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Layla sighed in relief, pressing a hand to her chest.

  A customer approached, and Glenn served him quickly before turning back. “So tell me—Bonnie’s been frightened since then? Still hasn’t recovered?”

  Layla stared at him in astonishment, her tone full of surprise. “Mr. Glenn, you’re exactly right!”