HEO 22

The old woman’s speech became faster.

“Hmph, whether it’s Stoll or Atania, men give up faster than women. And they always choose methods with zero survival chance. I’d wager nine out of ten male mutants killed themselves the moment they realized their true nature. That’s why no bodies identified as ‘male mutants’ remain. I want to cut open a male mutant’s belly more than anyone else!”

The old woman slammed her fist on the table and gestured toward the chair across from her.

“Sit down. Since you’re here, have some tea.”

“I don’t drink stinky water. I’m a Stoll.”

Black Weasel sat down in the chair. The old woman poured tea from the kettle and placed it before Black Weasel.

“Do you have something to tell me? Back in the day, even if I insisted you stay for tea, you’d just leave.”

“You’re always smart.”

“I’m from Atania. Anyway, what is it you want to say?”

“Hmm.”

Black Weasel, hands clasped together, opened his mouth.

“About Ash. Do they really exist?”

“What… out of the blue?”

“Yes, it’s just a random thought. It’s probably just a fictional entity from folklore, right? Even you called it a hypothesis when explaining.”

Black Weasel recalled the hypothesis in question as vividly as if it had just been told.

‘The reasons Ashes are treated as fictional. First, it’s invisible. Second, trait identifiers claim they don’t exist. My hypothesis: they have the same basal body temperature as a normal newborn. Since their traits can’t be distinguished in the first place, they remain unnoticed.’

‘Parents raising their children unaware they’re Ash would likely dismiss the child’s asexual tendencies, which emerge around puberty, as mere personality issues. And judging by the precursor symptoms described in traditional legends about Ash mutants, their cause of death is presumed to be cerebral hemorrhage or stroke.’

‘In other words, if an Ash cannot mate with a Spruce, they cannot withstand the pressure of their heat cycle and die suddenly in their early twenties. But to human eyes, they appear only as warriors who died young.’

“Right, I’ve drawn the line at it being a hypothesis. But that doesn’t mean we can definitively say Ash don’t exist. Stoll is biologically mysterious, after all.”

The old woman clasped her hands together and smiled.

“It’s absurd that a single species could persist for thousands of years across such a vast continent. The near-absence of dialects is ridiculous too. But what’s most astonishing is that the people of Stoll are not preoccupied by that. The deeper you dig, the more the scientific premises Atania scholars have believed in crumble one after another. But—”

The old woman thrust her upper body toward Black Weasel.

“Hey, why are you suddenly asking about Ash? Did someone suspicious catch your eye?”

“Well, it suddenly occurred to me that our young master might actually be an Ash. In all the legends, they are portrayed as a genius of martial arts, right? If our young master truly possesses that trait, he’d likely die young, so I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.”

Black Weasel shrugged. Wolf’s face, staring at Silver, slowly materialized before his eyes. Even Silver’s unusually obsequious demeanor toward Wolf came to mind.

According to the legend, the Ash’s mating instinct is satisfied only by a Spruce. Spruces are defenseless against the Ash’ pheromones. Even before their traits manifest, the two instinctively recognize and are drawn to each other.

The old woman stared wide-eyed.

“That’s the reason? No, no. You’re hiding something from me.”

She was a ghostly old woman. Black Weasel waved both hands nonchalantly.

“There is something I haven’t told you. My master’s wife bore three sons, and every single one was identified as a Spruce. When the second son was identified as a mutant after the first, rumors spread like wildfire among the tribe. They said the old trait-identifier held a grudge against my master and mistress and deliberately gave false appraisals. There were plenty of similar precedents.”

“So you suspect your young master was originally an Ash, but the trait-identifier labeled him a Spruce on purpose…?”

“That’s it. That’s exactly it.”

“That old trait-identifier was truly vicious. But I think she likely told the truth about your young master’s traits. People can tolerate things twice, but when it happens a third time, they inevitably explode. Maybe she didn’t hold back. The third child really was a mutant.”

The old woman’s guess matched the facts. What had the old trait-identifier said at the last moment?

‘Believe me! This time it’s real! It’s not a lie! That child is a monster!’

“Well, it’s a strange coincidence, to say the least.”

The old woman picked up a book from the desk and flipped through its pages.

“Actually, just last night, while I was combing through Ash folklore materials, I stumbled upon something. Coincidentally, today you’re asking about that?”

“……What?”

Black Weasel lifted his head. The old woman closed the book and looked at the assassin in the eyes.

“There’s one physical description that appears without fail in every single legend about Ash mutants. ‘Flawlessly clear skin.’”

“Flawlessly clear… skin? Skin?”

As Black Weasel echoed the old woman’s words, his mind cleared instantly.

Wolf’s physique, which had startled Black Weasel and Silver at the hot springs. That body unusually spotless for a Stoll…

That bastard! He is an Ash!

“Seems you understand what I mean?”

The old woman chuckled.

“Your young master is absolutely not an Ash. That should lighten your heart, right? Anyway, hearing the story makes me curious… Did that old trait-identifier die peacefully?”

“No.”

“I asked a stupid question. Well, anything else you want to know?”

“No. I’m leaving now.”

Black Weasel slammed the door and stepped out into the hallway. Children were playing in the courtyard outside the window. A middle-aged woman carrying a bread basket walked toward him from across the way and smiled at Black Weasel. She was a nanny who frequently visited this orphanage, someone Black Weasel recognized, and also Erem’s first assistant.

Director Dian Erem of the orphanage was an Atanian medical researcher who had devoted thirty years to studying human mutants. She is also the developer of the well-known drug “Tulu.” Circulating underground for thirteen years, Tulu was a groundbreaking drug that controlled the heat cycles of human mutants. Unsatisfied with this, the old scientist now dreamed of a greater leap beyond what current drugs could achieve.

Black Weasel suppressed his excitement as he moved forward. Ash tree.

‘According to one ancient legend, a Spruce that drank the blood of an Ash would thereafter lose their heat cycle.’

Director Erem had said that once.

‘Though it doesn’t vanish completely. A strong reactivity remains toward the individual who provided the blood. But only when they’re close to each other. The legend says after their mate died in war, a Spruce lived out their remaining years in solitude.’

‘In Atania, folk remedies involving feeding the blood of healthy youths to frail elders are secretly rampant. Surprisingly, there’s ample clinical testimony that this foolish superstition actually works quite well. Ash and Spruce are opposites. Like frail elders and healthy youths.’

‘By the same logic, your young master’s problem can be solved just by finding an Ash. It doesn’t even require much blood. The folktale only says the Spruce sucked a little blood from the Ash’s wounded finger. Generously estimated, maybe a teaspoon?’

‘It’s a legend, so the exact amount might differ. In extreme cases, it might even require a bathtub full.’

A smile bloomed on Black Weasel’s lips. Haha!

That insolent servant, that fool who wagged his tail whenever he saw Silver, turns out he was the one and only antidote.

Wolf! Good thing I didn’t kill you!

***

Silver, who had gone hunting, didn’t return until after sunset. That evening, the boys devoured a roasted fox, leaving not a single scrap of flesh behind. When Wolf asked why he was so late, Silver replied that this side was all sheer rock face, and it took quite a while to reach the forest where animals roamed. In effect, it meant Wolf had ample time to practice climbing the cave walls.

The next day. While Silver was out hunting, Wolf urged Red Eagle.

“Your Highness. I don’t know much about Silver yet, but a whiny kid is always ostracized among boys. So, let’s not make faces like sick old men trembling in fear of dying tomorrow. Let’s just play around with our usual childish games.”

“So we should lure Silver to us? Alright, I’ll try.”