Chapter 2 — 흉의 일족

Part 2, Episode 9

The Hyung Clan

The Hyung Clan.

From the distant past, they’ve always been trailed by guesses and speculation.

A tiny handful argued there was nothing much to set them apart from ordinary people, but—

-So vicious that even the demonfolk cast them out.

-Human-faced monsters hiding their strength, mingling with humans as spies.

Most thoughts about them were negative.

And—

They were tangled up with all kinds of conspiracy theories.

-The Hyung Clan is plotting a revolt from the shadows.

-Someone saw the mastermind of the recent serial killings in the capital slip into a house where the Hyung Clan was staying.

-Every time a territorial war breaks out, the Hyung Clan plays war profiteer and rakes in the money.

Of course, whenever such rumors made the rounds, plenty of people—especially those of the Hyung Clan or connected to them—ended up with their necks in a noose.

Discrimination.

Contempt.

Oppression.

Massacre.

The way they were dealt with never changed.

Even now, in what’s supposed to be an age of reason, no different from the era of instinct and savagery.

They’re still the ones who curse villages, summon demons, and kidnap maidens—an evil people.

Because of that, the Hyung Clan never put down roots anywhere on the continent, but drifted, again and again.

So most of them chose to be merchants always on the move, rather than settled farmers.

The thing they chose for a sliver of self-protection was money.

You needed money to buy weapons, and money to hire mercenaries.

Naturally, the urge to survive turned into a hunger for coin.

The problem was, among them, more and more opened banks and practiced usury.

Plenty of people borrowed from them, drowned in debt, and collapsed.

Many of those were nobles.

There was nothing illegal about it.

But the “highborn” didn’t see it that way at all.

Up to their necks in debt?

They’d borrowed for luxury and had no way to repay it. So there was only one thing nobles could do.

Slap a convenient charge on the creditor and have his head cut off.

Then seize his property on top of it.

Since the victims were an evil race to begin with, it wasn’t as if anyone would plead for them.

This even came with the pretext of “expelling” an evil people, which made for excellent political footing.

“In fact, among the nobles who cozied up to the Fourth Prince that way, quite a few were deep in debt to the clan, right on the verge of asset seizure.”

“Predictable. And if it doubles as glue for faction unity, that’s three birds with one stone.”

Elric was getting a little tired of listening to what was practically a ramble.

I wonder if the Hyung Clan and Zereitz have any ties of their own.

Still, he tucked it all away, thinking there might be something useful in it.

Mord lowered his head, thinking of his clan—pitifully reduced to nothing more than a means to be used.

“A rallying point… yes.”

Mephisto clicked his tongue as he watched.

『How did the Hyung Clan end up like this. They were better off a thousand years ago.』

[A thousand years ago?]

『Yes. Back then they were a headache even for the demonfolk. Nothing but rough, scrappy bastards. Hit them once and they’d insist on paying you back twice. A real nuisance.』

Mephisto’s gaze on Mord wasn’t kind.

『But that one now… like a sickly chicken on its last legs.』

[Sounds like people weren’t so different then from now, huh?]

『You think human nature changes that easily?』

Maybe that gaze wasn’t at Mord alone, but at humanity as a whole.

『Still, thanks to that, the Hyung Clan clung to our side and helped us build power quite a bit. Truth is, they were probably more at ease back then.』

Elric nodded.

In truth, it was the wheel of a vicious cycle turning.

Blood diluted over long ages.

Mana so faint now it was hardly different from ordinary folk.

Yet an indelible brand stamped on the entire clan: an evil people.

The resentful stares they’d always endured were only accelerated by the moneylending.

Resentment piled into oppression of the clan, oppression into obsession with money…

In reality, there probably weren’t that many who became loan sharks.

Whether the Hyung Clan was wicked or not hardly mattered.

People just needed a convenient target to throw their resentment at.

They had the bad luck of being branded that target. Nobles and royals kept stoking the conflict between the commoners and the Hyung Clan and pocketed the gains in the middle.

Everything was just a script with the roles already cast.

Strictly speaking, the best move for me here would be to quietly step back…

This was a clan persecuted for over a thousand years.

Taking them in now would surely bring trouble.

Especially because of Kromhel.

Even if Elric wasn’t actively seeking it, he was in practice counted as Kromhel’s closest ally in the political world.

By now, no one failed to know of their friendship, and they shared a common front against Zereitz.

Meanwhile the imperial brats are doing everything they can to drive a wedge between us.

Even after the Campaign of the Stars ended in success, the backbiting and wedge-driving continued.

And whenever they needed the Mervinger name, the imperial family would just grab it and use it as they pleased—it was enough to make him sick.

Still, a tie is a tie. I can’t take it lightly.

All the more reason Elric’s dilemma deepened.

His shoulders were already bearing too much for him to speak of social justice.

And even if he didn’t mean to, if he looked the other way this time, quite a bit of gravy would splash his way.

But—

Damn it. That doesn’t mean I get to be a thug.

If he’d never known, before or after, that would be one thing—but he now knew the whole situation.

And if he later heard Mord’s family had been hurt, he’d have no face to show the God of Camellias again.

More than anything—

He didn’t want to be a grandson his heroic grandfather would be ashamed of.

“Right. Since when did I ever move only after weighing every angle?”

He’d done ugly things to raise his house, but at the end of the day, Elric was a Mervinger.

Once he resolved to help, his chest felt lighter.

And the first thing to do came to mind.

First, there may be things I still don’t know. I should go see with my own eyes.

Elric stared at Mord, who was driving the carriage hard.

* * *

A few days later.

“Whoa, whoa—”

“We’ve arrived.”

The carriage Mord drove pulled up before a village.

“This is…”

Elric let out a wry chuckle at the scene beyond the carriage.

He’d heard the stories, but… it’s worse than I thought.

This wasn’t just any slum.

The largest slum in the southeastern reaches of the Empire.

A slum so wretched even slum-dwellers avoided it—a slum of slums.

Runaways from the Kingdoms’ Union, wounded veterans cast out as useless, escaped prisoners, orphans, paupers, and so on.

A lawless quarter where every sort of underclass gathered: Hyuilran.

Its ill repute was famous even within the Empire.

The place where all the malcontents of society gather. The single district with the most frequent outbreaks of revolt… The Empire had tried to “clean it up” more than once, and failed every time.

Elric narrowed his eyes.

If you wanted to hide from persecution, a place like this was perfect.

Endless rows of houses on the verge of collapse—or already collapsed—stretched away.

Even here, there seemed to be a kind of order of sorts.

The relatively intact, larger homes were held by burly men who looked like they could fight.

The shakier ones were occupied by former soldiers or mercenaries missing a limb or two.

But even that applied only to those higher up the pecking order.

The elderly, women, and children—the bottom rung—had not even that. They were out on the street, or crammed by the dozen into lean-tos woven from straw.

A city run by the naked logic of strength.

You’d think they’d need to band together just to survive, but instead they tormented one another with even greater malice.

It’s a mess. A complete mess.

Tsk.

Elric clicked his tongue. He thought this place resembled the Empire all too well.

He cast a sidelong glance at Mord.

Pity in his eyes.

Mord pretended not to notice and offered a defensive explanation.

“When you hide a rotten apple, you bury it in a pile of rot. That’s the only way no one finds it.”

It was a fair point.

“So the Hyung Clan all stay here?”

“No. We don’t even know how many of our people live here. Too many of us live with our identities hidden in society as it is…”

“So even among yourselves you don’t have a headcount?”

“Yes. Still, a good many—including my family—live here. This place sits outside the laws of both the Empire and the Union.”

“But you can’t sustain a life here.”

In a wasteland like this, even if you stole from one another, there’d be nothing left.

“So those who go out send money back here every month. We have to keep our families fed somehow.”

Mord went on with a sheepish, bitter smile.

“Even so, it’s a precious hometown to me.”

He showed a peculiar pride and attachment to the place.

“Yeah, well…”

Elric pulled a face and let it drop.

“Oh, and one more thing… Please don’t move around Hyuilran alone without me or my family with you.”

“Why? Worried someone might try something against me?”

Mord stared at Elric like the question was absurd.

“…If anything, people here would suffer at your hands, not the other way around.”

“Then why?”

“Because things here are… complicated.”

Mord continued with a very troubled look.

Hyuilran, packed with offenders of every stripe, had no such thing as public order.

So criminals of all kinds began clustering together for survival.

Naturally, factions sprang up, and they fought a lot among themselves.

Newcomers from outside were nothing but fresh meat.

So the moment a stranger like Elric walked around alone, he’d be a target.

And if that happened—

“My hometown people would end up dead or hurt. Obviously.”

Elric shot back, half-amused, at Mord who was worrying not about Elric but about the attackers.

“So you weren’t worried about me at all.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”

With Mord this insistent, Elric nodded.

“Yeah. I get the gist.”

Fwip!

Then he suddenly spun around and hoisted someone up by the scruff.

“Let go! Put me down!”

A scrawny kid, flailing to break free from Elric’s grip.

“You’re saying there are lots like this, right?”

The child’s hand slipped free of the inside pocket of Elric’s coat.

It was a pickpocket.

The Mage Who Devoured Talent