When Oboro set out to return to his residence, it was already dark.
He came to the slums again. Under the cover of night, the streets were even more crowded than during the day. All kinds of people mingled, creating a chaotic atmosphere.
A few unscrupulous men pushed open doors and dragged young boys and girls away from house to house. In this harsh world, people were commodities, especially children, including those from "untouchable" families. This gang specialized in human trafficking.
Girls could be sold to brothels or nobles, while boys could be sent to organizations or training grounds to be conditioned as death warriors from a young age. Their parents watched helplessly as their children were taken away. Passersby showed no surprise at these scenes because cruelty was the norm here.
Not far away, a drunkard savagely beat his wife; his methods were cruel and unflinching.
Chiyoko and Rina stood beside Oboro, their expressions complicated, as if these people frightened them more than demons.
Oboro ignored the scenes around him and stepped forward with purpose. Seeing him, people on both sides hastily saluted and paused their activities.
The appearance of someone as influential as Oboro in Youguo was significant news. Those with even minor backgrounds rarely appeared in areas like Youguo because they considered such places beneath them.
When Oboro first arrived in Youguo six months ago, he caused quite a stir. People nearby looked at his shadowy figure and whispered among themselves.
This time, he walked through the squalid streets instead of riding in a sedan chair.
After a while, when they turned a corner, the surroundings grew quiet. Apart from scattered candlelight and rows of low houses, only pitch darkness remained.
Due to the era's limitations and the harsh conditions of those living here, except for the main street, which bustled with nighttime activity, the other areas remained deathly silent.
The people in the slums lived in simple wooden houses so flimsy that two or three adults could easily knock them down.
Common folk lived in small courtyards, which, while not spacious, at least had walls.
The surest way to identify a slum was to see if continuous walls lined both sides of the road. Even modest status nobles, in the eyes of ordinary people, lived in the mansions of wealthy families.
Important figures like Oboro disdained staying in the city. Their mansions were typically located in areas with beautiful scenery and pleasant environments, with no other buildings nearby except their own estates. Each mansion occupied an entire area by itself.
In slums, the more hidden the location under the cover of darkness, the more likely "dirty" and sinful things occurred, far worse than the scenes on the main street.
"Hmm?"
Oboro stopped when he reached a small intersection. He smelled blood.
Someone was injured.
A few people emerged from a narrow alleyway and came toward him. One of them was holding a dog. Judging by its size, the dog was probably less than a year old, skinny, and small. The puppy was bleeding from multiple wounds and was clearly the victim of an attack.
"Haha, we'll have something to eat tonight," one man said with cruel delight.
"I haven't eaten meat in a long time," another added.
"Please, let it go! I'll give you money."
At that moment, a bruised and battered figure staggered out from behind the group on the path. His injuries were severe. He took his final steps and collapsed to the ground, crawling with difficulty while pleading with the men ahead of him.
"Get lost!"
The man holding the dog became angry when he saw that the dog was still alive. He immediately picked up a stone and hit the young man on the head. Seeing the young man lying motionless on the ground, the man snorted coldly and quickly fled with his accomplices.
"Who's there?" one of them called out nervously.
When they glanced around, however, they spotted Oboro and his two maids.
The man was startled. His blurry vision had missed the three people and focused on the young man lying in a pool of blood at the intersection.
Oboro recognized the young man. Six months ago, he had come to this street and given money to this person, who seemed to be named Zechuan. At that time, Oboro had warned the young man that possessing something valuable could make an innocent man appear guilty.
A dog?
Oboro glanced at the puppy in the boy's hand. In this era, not everyone could afford to keep a dog. Even a typical family might not be able to spare the resources for a pet. It was a luxury only wealthy and influential people could afford. Oboro didn't need to think hard to understand what had happened. When a dog appeared in a chaotic, lower-class area like Youguo, its only fate was to become food, as most people there could barely afford to feed themselves.
The boy had been targeted because of the dog.
It was dark, so the three assailants couldn't see Oboro's clothes or appearance clearly, but they could tell that he was with two women who had good figures.
Just as they were harboring evil intentions, Oboro approached them. When they saw his luxurious attire, they were frightened, mainly because they noticed the unique uniform of the magistrate's office under his black haori.
"Sir!" The three men were sweating profusely and stuttering.
Having just committed a crime, they turned around and ran into officials from the enforcement office. How could they not be terrified?
Bang!
Oboro didn't bother with conversation. He walked directly past the three men who were kneeling. Three bodies flew into the air, followed by the distinct sound of bones breaking.
Oboro picked up the dead puppy and walked over to the boy.
"It's dead," he said, placing the puppy's body in front of the boy.
When the boy heard his voice, his body, which had seemed unconscious, trembled. His fingers twitched as he regained consciousness and opened his eyes.
"It's you," he whispered, recognizing Oboro.
"Thanks."
With difficulty, the boy raised his hand and stroked the cold fur of the puppy, his eyes filling with tears. Then, he lifted his head, looked at Oboro, and muttered weakly. He obviously still remembered the man who had given him money before.
"Why, why?" he muttered to himself.
"Is it your relative?" Oboro asked.
"Mm." Zechuan responded dully.
"You're going to die too," Oboro observed.
The boy didn't respond; he just continued to touch the puppy's body.
"Are you unwilling?" Oboro asked softly.
The boy remained silent.
"Why is the world full of inequality? Why can human nature be so selfish and ugly?" Oboro squatted down beside him.
"If you had been born elsewhere with enough money and status, you could always be there for each other. But not everyone can have status and money.
People are both good and bad, but you have experienced the most malice."
The young man listened to these words, his eyes widening as he looked up at Oboro.
"They are all sick. The world is sick, too. Every life and emotion deserves respect and care, yet all you've seen since childhood is cruelty. Humans are emotional creatures, so why have they become so cold-blooded?"
These people, this world, they all need to be 'saved.'"
Being born in Youguo is neither a choice nor your fault. Your feelings are sincere, and there's nothing wrong with that. They are the ones who are wrong, as is this world.
They don't understand. The world doesn't understand."
Since this world is wrong, break it. Create a new world of your dreams and establish a new order."
"I can save you and this world. But if you want to protect relationships like yours, you must reshape the world and rid it of these terminally ill people. As long as they exist, this world will be ugly."
"You're not wrong, and neither is your love."
After saying that, Oboro smiled and extended his hand to the boy.
"Would you like to fix this world?"