TVBDS 48

 Chapter 48

“Nu… Nu-na…?”

He called out for his older sister, but there was no response. Passersby who noticed the little boy standing alone gave him a brief glance before hurrying on toward their own destinations.

“Mom…?”

In the distance, he saw the edge of a blue dress. His mother often wore blue dresses. It had to be her.

“Mom!”

Antoine ran straight ahead, clutching the blue fabric with both hands.

“Eek! Who… who are you…?”

But the woman was not his mother. The stranger, startled by the small child suddenly calling her “Mom,” yanked her dress away in surprise.

“Oh dear, what kind of misfortune is this…?”

The mix of embarrassment and annoyance on the woman’s face made Antoine’s little heart sink. No one had ever looked at him with such cold eyes before.

The sausage vendor earlier, and now this unfamiliar lady—both gave him a kind of hostility he had never felt in his life.

Unconsciously, Antoine took a few hesitant steps back. His heart raced, and his knees trembled. Though it wasn’t even a cold season yet, his fingertips had gone icy.

The place that had just been filled with joy twisted in an instant, transforming into an unfamiliar, strange space.

The people who had been dancing and playing together were nowhere to be seen, and the singing was drowned out by the clatter of footsteps.

Antoine froze in place, staring blankly around him. Then he began stomping his feet, and eventually started spinning in circles.

“Mo… Mom… Mom…”

No matter how he turned his head, all he saw were unfamiliar buildings. Each time he completed a turn, the scenery seemed to change, as if the buildings themselves had moved.

He needed help, but fear and anxiety made him whimper endlessly.

“My sister isn’t here.”

It felt as though he were trapped in a maze. Thick tears streamed down Antoine’s face, blurring the world like watercolor paint.

“Mom! Mom! Dad! Sister… sob… Camille…”

Anyone, please, just answer me. Antoine cried as he moved forward blindly.

What if he never saw his family again?

Would they be separated forever?

Camille had told him that children without parents, siblings, or relatives were called “orphans.”

Does that mean… I’m an orphan now? Would I have to go to an orphanage? How would I even get there?

Antoine’s childlike imagination magnified his fear, feeding on it, and made it grow bigger and bigger.

In fairy tales, orphans were always separated from their families by tragic accidents and raised in orphanages.

There, they had to eat hard bread and thin porridge every day, and they couldn’t have toys or soft teddy bears.

He hated that idea. Having to fight with unknown children over a single blanket or pillow every night!

Just thinking about it was as terrifying as the cruel orphanage headmaster in the stories.

After walking so long that his legs ached and he could go no further, Antoine finally stopped.

A shop he couldn’t read the sign of was at the end of the alley, facing him directly.

Turning back, he saw an arched entrance leading out of the alley. He thought he had gone straight, but it seemed he had accidentally entered a side street off the main road.

Still, the thought of retracing his steps felt unbearably difficult.

What if he got lost again? What if this time he ended up on a completely new street, a completely unfamiliar alley or city?

“I want to go home…”

With a loud sob, Antoine collapsed onto the shop’s steps, burying his face in his knees.

I’m sorry, I’ll never go out alone again. I want Mom, I’m hungry…

Every sniffle spilled out into cries aimed at no one in particular.

Then, it happened.

“Oh, did you lose your way?”

The shop door opened, and someone hurried out with a kind voice.

If I were Antoine, where would I go?

Stepping outside, I froze for a moment, faced with a crowd far busier than in the morning.

“I’ll go this way. All roads lead to the square anyway, we can meet there.”

Bastian said this in a single breath, weaving skillfully through the crowd until he vanished in an instant.

Stretching to get a better view, a sudden thought struck me, and I bent my body in the opposite direction.

“Miss Adèle?”

“Antoine is smaller than me. From his eye level, he might see something different.”

Ah, of course. Between the moving legs of the crowd, I could see something fluttering in the distance like flower petals.

“Monsieur Laurent, can you see what’s going on over there?”

“Yes, I can.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Did I just ask that?

“…It seems a dance is happening at the cafes and restaurants.”

“We have to go there.”

Monsieur Laurent immediately lifted me by the side. Ugh, do I really have to be carried like a bundle of documents? Isn’t there another way?

Thanks to his height and large frame, he wove effortlessly through the crowd.

What would have taken me a long time alone was accomplished in the blink of an eye with Monsieur Laurent’s long legs.

Hmm, that’s convenient, but the ride is awful.

I immediately headed with him toward the first waiter we saw.

“Excuse me, have you seen a little boy around this size?”

“Welcome…. Huh? A boy? Hmm… it’s been hectic all day, I don’t know who came or went.”

The waiter, realizing I wasn’t a customer, wiped the stiff smile from his face and exhaled deeply.

Despite the mild weather, he fanned himself repeatedly and stretched. Then he hurried away to attend to other guests.

As if nothing had happened, he returned to his cheerful demeanor, busy beyond a moment to straighten his posture.

“We need to check the back streets as well.”

“Back streets? Were there back streets?”

Ah, I misspoke. I frowned lightly.

“They were originally alleys, maybe traces remain? Or maybe they were completely removed during construction?”

I said it as if casually, looking in the opposite direction of Monsieur Laurent’s suspicious gaze. The street musicians who had just finished playing were collecting the coins from their hats.

“If it’s those people, maybe they know something.”

Then it happened.

“Adelaide! Huff, huff… there you are.”

Bastian had found me and ran over.

“Is this your brother’s handkerchief? The initials were embroidered on it.”

He handed me a dirty cloth, smeared with sauce and footprints. Sure enough, Antoine’s name was on it.

But what caught my attention first was the back of Bastian’s hand, red and swollen.