#777

Epilogue - Boy (3)

For a warlock, the most important thing was humans.

It might sound like a contradictory statement, but it was true.

In order to use black magic, human emotions and life force were essential, and for creating manipulation-type black magic and black magic items, corpses, human organs, and body parts were required.

For reference, humans, like meat, had more value when they were fresh and alive.

At this point, warlocks often found themselves in contradictory situations.

This contradictory situation referred to the paradox of managing kidnapped humans in such a way that they wouldn’t fall into complete despair.

It might sound absurd, but it was an undeniable fact and an important task.

Humans who fell into despair withered faster than flowers, with their emotions and bodies deteriorating quickly, causing their value to plummet.

Therefore, whether they liked it or not, warlocks had to manage their resources (humans) in a way that didn’t simply involve suppression, in order to ensure proper harvesting.

That was something only third-rate sorcerers would do. To be first-rate, they had to plant hope in the humans.

Even if the humans were captured by warlocks, they had to be given hope that they could still survive, that it wasn’t completely over.

The key here was to give ‘false hope’—hope that could never actually be achieved—rather than real hope that could be seized.

After all, wouldn’t it be sad if, in the name of giving hope, a real escape route was provided, and the humans managed to flee?

Because of this, the conditions for storing and managing resources became more demanding.

They had to give hope to prevent complete despair, but it had to be false hope, and it had to be made to appear real.

In the early days, warlocks complained about these demanding conditions, but they researched nonetheless, and Puppet joined them in this effort.

Part of it was to improve work efficiency, but more personally, Puppet saw it as an opportunity to study humans.

It was a kind of personal interest.

Perhaps because of Puppet’s efforts, he managed to develop a few simple but highly effective devices.

These devices were called the ‘Good Prisoner’ and the ‘Escape Hole.’

Through the Good Prisoner, Puppet provided emotional comfort to the captives, offering them a place to lean on mentally.

Through the Escape Hole, he provided hope of escape, managing the captives in a way that prevented them from falling into despair.

He also discovered that when these two devices were combined, they produced an even more remarkable synergistic effect.

“Finish your meal.”

“Yes, grandfather.”

“Make sure to get proper sleep.”

“Yes, grandfather.”

The people inside the prison seemed to have forgotten that they were captured by warlocks. They did not lose hope, and they maintained themselves through regular routines of eating, sleeping, and digging tunnels.

Without any coercion, they managed themselves entirely through their own will.

Everyone, except for Puppet.

“You give it a try.”

One day, the old man handed Puppet a spoon and suggested that he dig the tunnel.

Knowing it was a pointless task, Puppet wanted to refuse, but the sharp stares of the children forced him to accept.

At that moment, Puppet was neither a finger nor a warlock—just an ordinary boy.

Based on what he had observed, he knew that refusing would likely result in a beating, which he wanted to avoid.

While human sensations were amusing, the pain of being beaten wasn’t particularly pleasant.

In the end, Puppet took the spoon, whose age was indiscernible, and crawled into the filthy tunnel to dig.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape...

After some time had passed, the old man called Puppet back, telling him to switch shifts.

“Drink.”

As Puppet, covered in dust, emerged from the tunnel, the old man handed him a bowl of water.

Puppet, exhausted from the hard labor of digging, drank the bowl of water in one go, and the old man said to him,

“You’re pretty good at digging.”

“...Thank you.”

Puppet, knowing it was a pointless task, answered bluntly.

"Now, you dig along with me. It's better than just sitting around."

"…Yes."

Puppet nodded, noticing the other kids glaring at him.

After that, a few more days passed.

Though the passage of time didn’t make much difference.

Eating meals, sleeping, and occasionally digging tunnels—it was an incredibly dull routine.

However, it wasn’t entirely boring.

Since he had only observed such scenes from outside prisons before, seeing them from within the prison felt slightly novel. Also, listening to the children's chatter like a radio in between was amusing.

Maybe it was just the boredom making him imagine things.

"What will you do once you get out of here?"

"Mom. I’ll meet my mom. I’ll stay at my uncle’s place."

"Snacks. I want to eat fried honey snacks. What about you?"

"Me? I…"

"Hey! You come with me! My uncle said he needed more hands for his business in the city."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"…"

The children forced themselves to share cheerful stories, trying to forget their reality, while Puppet half-heartedly listened to their conversation.

Sometimes, an uninvited guest would try to drag him into the conversation.

"Grandpa, don’t you have anything you want to do?"

"Well, I’ll tell you once that kid speaks up."

The old man, playing the role of the 'Good Prisoner,' pointed directly at Puppet, forcing him to join the conversation.

"Kid, don’t you have anything you want to do?"

"Ah, I…"

After thinking for a moment, Puppet casually replied that he wanted to see his family.

Since he was already drawing enough attention and suspicion, he didn’t want to act out unnecessarily.

Fortunately, the old man seemed to believe Puppet's lie.

"Well then, you’ll have to dig even harder. Go on in."

"Yes."

'Damn it.'

The immortal Puppet, who had lived for hundreds of years, sponsored countless warlocks, and killed countless mages and paladins, crawled back into the filthy tunnel.

***

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape…

A few more days passed after that.

However, nothing in particular had changed.

Eating, sleeping, digging tunnels, and chatting—repeating a monotonous routine like a hamster wheel.

Was it because of the sheer boredom?

Puppet suddenly had a useless thought.

There wasn’t much difference between the inside of the prison and the outside world.

Most humans were tied to their livelihoods, lived repetitive lives, and lost their lives surprisingly easily, almost absurdly.

Just like in this prison.

Of course, it wasn’t something he didn’t already know.

Having lived through human history, Puppet had witnessed this process firsthand and knew it better than anyone.

It just felt slightly different now that he was experiencing it as a human.

Perhaps it was the difference between understanding something intellectually and feeling it physically?

In any case, aside from that, nothing special happened. After all, there was no way out of this place.

While he was spending those dull, repetitive days, something unexpected happened.

"The root. A weed root! We’re almost through the escape hole!!"

The old man digging the tunnel suddenly shouted.

"What…"

"Yes?!"

"Hup!"

The children, who had been waiting for their turn, let out stunned exclamations or quickly covered their mouths to suppress their cries of surprise.

The entire prison fell into a silent hush, as if by mutual agreement, and the old man crawled out with difficulty.

"Hah, hah… The root. We’ve hit a root. It’s as good as breaking through to the outside."

Panting, the old man announced after crawling out, and Puppet stared blankly at him.

It was truly astonishing news.

‘What’s going on?’

While Puppet was lost in thought, one of the children brought the old man a bowl of water, and the old man drank it eagerly before speaking again in a tense voice.

What he said was…

"Tonight…! Prepare to escape tonight."

"Tonight?"

The children were shocked once again at the sudden announcement.

Like cows too accustomed to their confinement to flee even when the gate was opened, they had grown used to being trapped.

To those children, the old man spoke again, low but firm.

"Yes, we must escape tonight. As soon as possible."

Puppet silently observed the old man, wondering what kind of trick this could be.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the Good Prisoner?

No, that wasn’t it.

Though he no longer had the warlock’s eye to see emotions, Puppet had centuries of experience, and based on that experience, he knew this old man was indeed the Good Prisoner.

Everything the old man had done so far had stayed within the boundaries of what Puppet had designed.

"Wait a moment. What about you, Grandpa?"

One of the children asked what the old man intended to do. His tone made it clear that he wasn’t considering his own escape. This was the correct assumption.

"Someone has to stay behind to buy time."

The children seemed to understand what he meant.

The fact that they received three meals a day implied that the prison guards checked the prisoners three times a day.

Even if the guards were negligent, they would inevitably notice if all the children and the old man were gone—especially if the Good Prisoner was missing.

To buy even a little time, the old man had no choice but to remain in the prison. At best, he could only buy them one day.

Without that, escape would be impossible.

Given the nature of such facilities, they were always located in remote areas. Once discovered, a pursuit team would inevitably follow, and being caught would be only a matter of time.

"But still…"

Even though they understood it logically, the children seemed unable to accept it emotionally.

The absence of the old man, who had guided them in this terrifying place, was a source of fear.

While it wasn’t exactly fear, Puppet also didn’t fully understand.

Why was the old man doing this all of a sudden?

As if reading Puppet’s thoughts, the old man turned his head sharply and met Puppet’s gaze.

"Kid."

"Yes?"

"Come with me for a moment."

At the old man’s firm call, Puppet moved to a corner.

Thump. Thump.

Embarrassingly, Puppet could feel his heart beating slightly.

‘Why is it beating?’

Was it fear? No, that wasn’t it.

Was it tension from not understanding the situation? Perhaps that was it.

Or was there another reason?

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason, but Puppet tried to calm his racing heart and waited for the old man to speak.

Thump. Thump.

"You lead the children and escape."

"…Pardon?"

Caught off guard by the completely unexpected words, Puppet dumbly repeated the question.

The old man repeated himself.

"I said, lead the children and escape."

"Uh, I’m not suited for something like that… How about asking him instead?"

Puppet declined, pointing at a boy who was a head taller than him.

It was the same boy who had gotten angry when Puppet annoyed the guard—a boy who was essentially the leader among the children.

"His name is Leboski."

"Ah…"

Despite spending several days together, Puppet hadn’t remembered his name, and he let out a small exclamation. In truth, it wasn’t that he had forgotten—it was that he had never bothered to learn it.

"He’s a brave kid, but he’s not fit to lead the others in an escape."

"I’m not fit either."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Honestly, I think I’d be better off staying here and pretending the kids are still around."

Even though an opportunity to escape had presented itself, Puppet took a step back.

He wasn’t sure how safe it was, and even if it were safe, the chances of successfully escaping seemed low. More than anything, running barefoot through a snow-covered country seemed incredibly bothersome.

Puppet had already achieved what he had dreamed of. Dying here felt like one possible path.

Sure, it would be painful and agonizing, and yes, he would go to hell after dying. But that didn’t seem so bad.

Considering what he had done to become human, he could accept his fate calmly.

Whatever the case, wouldn’t he die as a human? It seemed less troublesome, too.

However, it seemed the old man had a different opinion.

"I don’t see it that way."

"…?"

"You’re the only one who can lead the kids and escape."

Heh… Puppet chuckled inwardly.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because you know that I’m the Good Prisoner."

"…"

"You’re a warlock, aren’t you?"