Chapter 127
#Chapter 127: Beggar Gritz (3) - Bizarre Q&A
“There it is, over there! Hurry and tell the Priestess!”
“You idiot, lower your voice…! What if it notices us…? Ah, ah! Damn it! It’s running away!!”
“Quiet. Just keep watch. I’ll bring the Priestess, so make sure you don’t get noticed.”
“W-wait a second, it’s heading somewhere else!”
“It always senses us like a ghost even when we only watch from far away, then disappears!?”
“Is that really a person? Isn’t it some kind of monster?”
“At this point, it’s all or nothing!! Just grab it!!”
“Bring a rope, a rope!!”
Clatter, clamor, crash.
All sorts of mishaps befell those searching for the oak barrel throughout the city, but not a single one achieved their objective.
The oak barrel’s movements were so elusive that even when people somehow managed to find it, it would usually disappear somewhere else before they could bring Grace there.
Some people, enraged by its tantalizing habit of almost being caught but never quite caught, even set out to seize the oak barrel themselves, but all they gained from it was severe muscle pain and exhausted bodies.
After failing their assignments like that, they returned to Grace and began complaining.
“I really did my best. But the thing was so quick and perceptive that….”
“I tried everything I could to catch it and ended up spraining things and getting bruised all over. I have to go to work again tomorrow, too….”
The people had all sorts of different things to say, but their meaning was essentially the same.
Though they had failed the assignment, they hoped their efforts would be appreciated and that they would receive at least a little compensation.
It could be called shameless behavior in a way, but Grace neither got angry nor coldly drove them away.
To begin with, to the people of this city, the ‘Priestess’ was a noble being, but one they would prefer not to get involved with if possible.
The fact that they had nevertheless accepted Grace’s assignment and worked so hard meant that they were either short on money or in desperate circumstances.
Therefore, she said with a gentle smile,
“I see. Would you tell me about what happened in detail?”
Those who had repeatedly been toyed with by the oak barrel’s astonishing movements were eager to complain to someone about what they had experienced, so they answered Grace’s questions with all their heart and soul.
By contrast, those who had not properly participated in the search and had merely slacked off while trying to collect a reward alongside everyone else gave such shoddy accounts, full of gaps here and there, that it was not difficult to notice.
Grace could have given rewards only to those who brought back useful information if she had wanted to, but she saw no need to distinguish between the two groups and gave everyone a reward.
Not everyone feels ashamed or guilty when their lies are exposed or their mistakes are pointed out.
Some people even held grudges against whoever told the truth and stubbornly insisted that the other person was at fault no matter what.
There probably wasn’t anyone who would openly pick a fight with the ‘Priestess,’ but they might go to the orphanage and take out their anger on someone there, so it was best not to build up resentment whenever possible.
Besides, the money going out like this came from the Carnelian family as an ‘allowance for maintaining her dignity,’ so there was no particular need to save it.
After the people left, Grace began analyzing the pursuers’ testimonies.
How fast the oak barrel rolled at its maximum speed, how far its jumps through the air could carry it, where it most often appeared—all this was information that might have taken Grace months to discover through direct experience.
Since she couldn’t organize it all in a single day, she continued racking her brains at the estate for several more days.
At last, a smile appeared on Grace’s face.
It was far removed from the calm, refined smile she showed in front of people; this was the grin of a mischievous child who had just thought of a delightful prank.
***
The next holiday.
Those who had heard that Grace had scattered money around while searching for the oak barrel looked forward to the possibility that something similar might happen again, but unfortunately, Grace did not show herself.
Some people even thought, ‘Let’s catch the oak barrel first and then take it to the Priestess,’ and threw themselves into a capture operation, but if even a more organized effort with more people than last time had been questionable, there was no chance this haphazard attempt would succeed.
Many people left, carrying the disappointment of coming up empty-handed with them, and at last, around sunset—
The oak barrel rolled down the alley with a rattling sound, the tense and noisy atmosphere of before having vanished and silence having settled in.
And near the oak barrel as it rolled along—
Grace quietly held her breath beneath a pile of junk stacked in a corner of the street.
“……”
Cold and damp.
It felt as though every part of her—skin, muscle, and bone—was screaming, with none able to claim that it hurt first.
She had slipped into this hiding place while the oak barrel was away securing breakfast, then lain flat on the street and waited until sunset without changing position even once, so there was no way her body could still be in good condition.
To be perfectly frank, if all she intended to do was lie in ambush and spring out, she did not need to go this far.
She could have hidden beneath some suitably ragged piece of cloth, or laid down something like a mat on the ground.
More importantly, this was already the fourth time the oak barrel had passed right beside Grace, so she could have attempted an attack on any one of those occasions.
But Grace resisted all those temptations.
If she had brought in objects from outside and used them to hide, she might have put the oak barrel on its guard.
To use the objects already present as much as possible—and to hide without significantly changing their arrangement—there was no other way to conceal herself in such a state.
The fact that she had endured despite having several chances to attack followed the same logic.
That was how she would raise the odds of the ambush succeeding.
There was no way it would suspect that she had been lying in wait for a long time on a path it had already passed several times.
A third party might have wondered why she was going to such lengths, but this sort of foolishness was more enjoyable when one pursued it with complete sincerity.
And at last. The moment she had been waiting and waiting for.
Grace threw herself at the oak barrel, practically hurling her entire body.
“I caught you…!”
There was a slight error in Grace’s statement.
Since her stiffened limbs had not moved properly, it was actually closer to ‘I latched onto you’ than ‘I caught you.’
But Grace ignored that minor distinction. Whatever else was true, the sensation of the prey clutched in both her hands was real.
And at last, a reply came.
“─What a stubborn bitch you are. What could possibly be so urgent? Tsk, tsk.”
It was an extremely rough manner of speaking—or, to put it more colloquially, one that could only be described as swaggering and vulgar.
Grace had assumed that if anything spoke from inside the oak barrel, it would surely be some unearthly shriek that could not be described in human language, so she blinked in surprise.
Whether or not Grace was listening, the oak barrel continued its scathing abuse.
“So what if you caught me? Did you never consider that if I start spinning around here, your wrists will be smashed to pieces? No, there’s no need to limit it to your hands. If I make a single jump and land on top of you, you’ll go crunch.”
Faced with those words, which almost sounded murderous, Grace replied,
“Oh, I see?”
“……?”
“So what? Whatever happens then, happens.”
It was an indifferent remark.
Not in the sense that she had no thoughts or feelings, but because it carried the resignation of someone thinking, ‘If it really does happen that way, then so be it.’
Grace roughly brushed off the dust and soot clinging to her clothes (there was no particular significance to it), then gave the oak barrel a small bow.
“Hello, Mr. Oak Barrel. Do you happen to have some time?”
“If you’re a whore, I’m not buying. I don’t have that kind of money, either.”
“I’m not a whore, though?”
“Dressed like that?”
“Ha, sexual harassment at our first meeting?”
“Anyone who expects a gentlemanly response from a street beggar has rocks in their head.”
“That’s true.”
“Ahem.” Grace nodded.
Then she asked again.
“So, do you have time? I have so many things I’d like to ask you about, Mr. Oak Barrel.”
“……”
The oak barrel fell silent for a moment.
Since the oak barrel was about as tall as Grace, it was impossible for her to look inside, but for some reason, Grace felt as though he was staring intently at her.
No, judging from their conversation so far, he had to be looking at her somehow.
Suddenly, a staff rose from inside the oak barrel and pointed in one direction.
“If you go straight that way, there’s a bluish rock, isn’t there?”
“Of course I know it. I’m a local.”
“Come there when the shadows are shortest. Bring a meal, and I’ll spare you a little chatter.”
Grace started to ask, ‘Can’t we do it right now?’ but stopped herself.
He seemed fussy enough to tell from only a few exchanges, so rather than quibble over this and that for no reason, she thought it would be better to accept when the other party offered a concession.
More importantly, waiting like this would make for a good way to pass the time in its own right.
***
Another week later.
Grace brought a large amount of bread, a drink made from vinegar and herbs, and other things before heading to the meeting place.
“Mr. Oak Barrel! I’m here!”
Grace called out in a lively voice, as though she had come out on a date, toward the oak barrel sprawled on the bluish rock like a dog taking a nap.
A playful, mischievous air clearly showed in her expression and eyes, but she was so captivating that even someone who recognized the trickery would have found it difficult to look away.
The oak barrel’s response, however, was utterly indifferent.
“Where’s the food?”
“Here it is!”
Looking at the heavy basket Grace had brought—enough for an ordinary person to eat their fill for several days—the oak barrel said,
“Do you not know how to calculate?”
“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“I’m saying it because you look like the sort of person who would insist that one plus one equals ten.”
“I thought you’d give more thorough answers if I gave you more food.”
“More thorough? Your belly has limits. If you force more into it, it’ll only burst.”
After making that cynical remark, the oak barrel lightly hooked the contents of the basket up with the tip of its staff.
A loaf of bread and a bowlful of the drink shot high into the air and fell inside the oak barrel. Whatever happened to the bread, the drink did not splash or spill a single drop onto the ground despite being in a wooden bowl, which was a truly bizarre feat.
When the oak barrel fell silent, as though it had no intention of accepting anything more, Grace set the remaining food beside it and began speaking.
“Why are you inside an oak barrel?”
“Because it’s my house, my clothes, and my horse.”
“Can all of those really be one thing?”
“Why shouldn’t they be?”
“It seems uncomfortable.”
“If you lived in a palace, rode around on a horse wearing shoes covered in decorations, would that be comfortable?”
“Oh.”
Grace was slightly impressed.
As someone living an extravagantly cumbersome life in the largest mansion in the city, the comparison resonated with her quite a bit. Though she had never ridden a horse.
“Don’t you get dizzy when you roll around that fast?”
“Don’t your legs get tired when you walk?”
“May I see what it’s like inside the oak barrel?”
“If I stripped you and said I wanted to see what was inside, would you nod?”
“Why are you so twisted?”
“A dog only sees dogs.”
The bizarre, rude conversation—one that would make anyone watching wonder what on earth they were doing—continued for quite some time.
It continued, but even that eventually came to an end.
Once she learned that the bizarre man inside the oak barrel was named ‘Gritz,’ Grace suddenly realized that she had no more questions to ask.
This was terribly disappointing.
She realized once again that she was thoroughly enjoying her conversations with this bizarre man.
As Grace hemmed and hawed, racking her brain to come up with a new question, Gritz asked her one.
“Is the story over?”
“……”
If she answered yes, this conversation would end there.
Perhaps her relationship with this strange man would end as well.
After that, the same stifling life filled with things she did not want to think about would be waiting for her. She did not even know how long it would continue. But it probably would not be a very long life.
“No. ─Would you perhaps listen to my story?”
Gritz nodded indifferently, as if to say he didn’t mind either way.
And a new story began to spill from Grace’s lips.