C179: Davis’s hobby
*Davis’s PoV*
As Jack, Arnold, Arriet, Florence, and the additional corpse walked back toward the village, with the horse bringing the corpse cart behind them, Davis had also departed separately to summon the thugs who had escaped the barn.
At a glance, all nine of the surviving men looked nervous and wary. Upon hearing Davis's recounting of events, they all seemed skeptical at first, but ultimately decided to lend their help.
The deciding point was that, since the job itself did not seem dangerous, they chose to help the one who had killed one of the people responsible for their tragedy.
"Davis, who are these people again?"
As they walked together in a large group beneath the dark night sky, a middle-aged man could not restrain himself from asking, eyeing the figures walking up front with suspicion.
"I am not certain. But I am confident he belongs to some reclusive cult that has hidden itself on the mountain for its own purposes."
“A cult, ya said?”
Davis answered each probing question seamlessly.
Since Davis was universally recognized as one of the most dependable Apprentice Stage among their number, most of the men visibly relaxed after hearing his words.
After all, a Deceiver by trade was not easily deceived.
The current party consisted of Jack, Arnold, and Florence walking at the front. Behind them, Davis and his thug companions occupied the middle, and at the end walked an unfamiliar, silent man holding the reins of the horse and guiding the wooden cart. Upon the cart sat a little girl in a black dress, with the Dhampir assassin's corpse laid out beside her.
Half of Roson’s body had been concealed beneath a leather cloth. But as the men repeatedly glanced back at the little girl sitting beside it in silence, complicated feelings rose within their chests.
Davis privately guessed this arrangement was intended to ensure the girl's safety from whatever threat might appear. So Arnold had deliberately positioned the girl at the end.
Noticing the thugs' repeated glances at her, the black-haired girl raised one small hand and smiled at them happily, her face brimming with innocent, cheerful warmth.
"..."
The thugs immediately nodded and smiled awkwardly back at her.
In their collective mind, they all concluded this was merely some ordinary little girl who shared a familial relationship with Arnold. Perhaps his younger sister. She was admittedly a little uncanny, sitting calmly beside a corpse like that without any visible distress.
But the possibility that she might be some manner of dangerous person never once occurred to them.
In the first place, that girl in the black dress had been the only one of the entire strange party who had waved at them, saying hello upon first meeting, asking them how they were doing, and looking sincerely concerned for their well-being when they first gathered.
Although her eyes were admittedly a little sharp, in their minds she had already registered as a kind and sweet girl.
No one among them would ever suspect that this innocent little girl could command the dead, making the assassin Dhampir scared shitless.
And of course, throughout the meeting, Davis had only silently nodded along, accepting and endorsing whatever she said.
"Shh, Davis pal, I know that Arnold lad, but who is that little girl?" One of the men whispered to Davis. "She looks around my daughter's age. Is she perhaps... Arnold's little sister?"
The man had initially intended to ask whether she was Arnold's girlfriend, but realizing how inappropriate that sounded, he changed his wording halfway through the sentence.
Davis instantly jolted in alarm. He glanced around furtively, first at the girl, then at Arnold's distant back.
Noticing that neither party displayed any reaction to the speculation, he sighed in relief.
"I do not know such details. But I’m sure she is something beyond our understanding, so pray, do not be rude to her under any circumstances."
"Beyond what?"
"Just... do not be rude to her. That is all I shall say on the matter."
Davis replied curtly. If these men ever discovered that the innocent little girl they had mistakenly extended such warmth toward could raise the dead, giggle in delight when a body fell, and command crows through gestures, they would surely be scared out of their wits.
And Davis absolutely did not want to get dragged any deeper into this mess.
The thugs nodded. They glanced back once more at the little girl with warm, paternal eyes.
Davis was certain these guy had only nodded along with him out of courtesy; they didn't understand a thing. And they wouldn't believe him even if he told them the truth.
'Damn Mona. I wonder if she would kill me if I exposed her secret...'
Davis’s expression turned ugly, as though he had just swallowed a mouthful of unbearably sour lime juice. His hand involuntarily rose to stroke his tired, heavily bagged eyes.
He noticed that the crows, which had always followed the girl closely and persistently, had for some reason spread out widely around their party.
It was almost as though none of the crows wished to approach the girl directly, yet simultaneously none wished to leave her either, creating a strange, watchful circle around her.
But perhaps that was merely his exhausted imagination playing tricks on his mind.
'Suddenly, Arnold appears like a giant.'
Arnold’s position in Davis’s mind had skyrocketed. From an unassuming Spy from some remote mountain cult, he had transformed into an authoritative and reliable figure, leading them forward.
'What manner of experiences have you endured, lad? To possess such a chilling gaze.'
Davis felt as though he had never truly known this kid at all, despite their brief acquaintance.
Besides Arnold, Davis knew nothing about the other strange people who worked alongside the lad.
There was the thin man with perpetually narrowed eyes, who looked especially fancy and out of place in his tailored black suit. In Davis's opinion, that man registered as the most ordinary of the group, despite possessing the most irritatingly knowing smirk.
Then there was the maid, along with a headless corpse, who had declared to him that both were already dead.
Davis could not verify such claims with certainty, of course. But judging by how differently the maid behaved compared to when she had been alive, and the undeniable fact that a corpse could continue walking without its head, they had managed to convince him that they were, in fact, dead.
Naturally, Davis faced considerable difficulty persuading his thug friends to accompany Arnold, particularly after they caught sight of this unnerving maid.
After all, it was this very maid who had created so much trouble, making it impossible for them to see Madam.
Fortunately—or perhaps not—the young girl had behaved so sweetly and adorably that she had awakened the men's protective instincts.
That, combined with Davis’s patient persuasion, ultimately won them over.
And finally, the black-haired girl sitting adorably on the wooden cart.
The girl with raven-black hair and sharp green eyes, who changed her entire attitude from one second to the next, transforming seamlessly from an unapproachable lady bearing a sharp, predatory gaze, to a sweet little girl with brimming, cheerful eyes.
Davis swallowed hard. He felt as though he had only just escaped the jaws of death, only to step directly into an even larger maw. He could still feel that sharp gaze pressing against the back of his neck, cold sweat forming across his skin, though perhaps it was only his imagination.
Davis forced a pleasant smile and offered a respectful bow toward the girl.
Then he resumed his pace, walking toward the front and approaching Arnold. He did not dare to walk anywhere near this little girl anymore. It was far too unnerving. Better to let those thugs become his scapegoats instead.
Besides, how did that lad come to know this terrifying girl?
'Who is Arnold?'
The fact that she could command the dead was frightening enough. Even now, her eyes watched them all from behind like an excited child observing fascinating specimens in a glass jar, and that curious scrutiny crawled creeping along Davis's spine like the legs of some cold insect.
They could not possibly be siblings, Davis reasoned.
Black hair and blonde hair. Excited gaze and chilling gaze. There existed no similarity in appearance between them whatsoever, save for the matching shade of green eyes.
Moreover, Davis had also noticed how Arnold and Arriet conducted themselves around one another. They barely approached each other at all, always standing with a maintained distance between them. Just as now, with one positioned at the very front while the other sat at the very back.
Earlier, he had even caught the girl's face turning visibly red when she spoke with Arnold. So he had arrived at what he considered a rather bold but reasonable deduction.
'The girl holds affection for the lad. But she doesn't know how to approach him naturally. So she contents herself with helping him only from a distance.'
Viewed from that perspective, their relationship seemed truly innocent and endearing, much like a romantic story.
That is, if he ignored the fact that this little girl was deeply uncanny and terrifying, and had even attempted to kill him earlier, only desisting at Arnold's words.
'Thank you for that intervention, junior.'
He owed this lad his life, without a doubt.
His pace quickened as he moved closer to Arnold.
—-
*Arnold's poV*
"..."
Through Arriet's gaze, Arnold could clearly observe how nervous Davis had been throughout the entire march.
Only when the thin man finally reached his position at the front did his expression visibly relax, the tension draining from his shoulders.
'This fellow has likely arrived at some weird conclusion again.'
From the manner in which his gaze had shifted repeatedly between Arnold and Arriet simultaneously and continuously, Arnold could take a reasonable guess.
‘Is it about our origin?’
Arnold did not wish to contemplate that subject too deeply. How strangers perceived Arnold and Arriet was not his concern.
Noticing the thin man coming closer, Arnold opened his mouth to initiate the conversation.
"What do you need, senior?"
“S-Senior…?” Davis scratched the back of his head, his face turning red as visible embarrassment crept across his features.
"I merely wished to converse, junior." He coughed awkwardly into his fist. "That form of address... does indeed feel quite awkward between us now."
Behind them, the thugs were still chattering noisily among themselves in low tones. Some had even wandered back toward the back to speak with the little girl, asking her what she liked, what she might need, and other such paternal inquiries.
"Junior, pray, forgive us. We have given you quite a lot of trouble."
Arnold shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it. The information you gave me was valuable enough. Think of it as payment for this.”
Davis sighed in relief.
"Do you enjoy reading?" Arnold asked, posing an entirely unexpected question.
"Ye?" Davis widened his eyes. "Ye, I certainly do. Is it that obvious from my manner?"
Arnold rolled his eyes, both hands tucked into his pockets.
“I don’t think anyone around here talks like you.” Arnold shrugged. “Junior, senior. If I guessed correctly, people usually only talk like that in novels and stuff.”
“Ah.”
It was not wrong. Arnold had not met anyone else who talked in such a manner.
Well, in fairness, he had not met that many people to begin with, but considering the current era and this remote location, it struck him as quite strange to encounter someone employing “junior” or “senior” as forms of address in daily conversation.
It seriously reminded him of the Eastern Republic from Izzy's past-life.
Davis scratched his head with a sheepish grin.
"Ahaha, it is simply that, I had never heard anyone talking in that manner before, so I merely wished to give it a try." He smiled with gentle self-deprecation. “Who would’ve thought I’d end up liking it this much?”
‘Now that I think about it, it seems most of his actions and attitudes stemmed from reading.' Observing Davis thoughtfully, Arnold concluded.
He had never expected that in this backwater village, someone would really enjoy reading and learning.
Reflecting on their past interactions, the man had always been cautious and polite. He also knew where to draw the line and when to ask for forgiveness, such as when he first met Arnold.
‘For a Deceiver, isn't this guy a bit too honest?’
It was ironic, in a way.
'And this fellow appears to know how to write as well.'
Arnold had completely overlooked that. When Davis had written the contract for him, his handwriting had not been bad at all. On the contrary, it was neat and orderly.
Although the church school opened its doors on Saturday, Sunday, and Moonday, not many people in this village knew how to read properly, let alone write.
‘This fellow also knows basic math.’
Hmm? Only then did Arnold suddenly realize something. From a normal perspective, wasn't this fellow actually quite intelligent?
Earlier, he had even cooperated extremely well with Arnold to trick Roson.
'Aligning myself with him probably wouldn't be a bad investment.'
Davis’s future seemed bright. Suddenly, this thin man radiated a very bright, promising light in Arnold's eyes.
Of course, assuming he could survive.
Arnold looked back toward Davis with renewed interest.
“What book is it?”
"?" Davis tilted his head in momentary confusion, before answering enthusiastically.
"The Journey to the East, junior!"
"...??? The what now?"