The Extra Wants To Live

"No, so you left him alone?"

"I'm sorry. Honestly, I don't know what to do."

The knight who heard the report from the soldier sighed in embarrassment. If they banished them, they might go somewhere and start talking nonsense. But they couldn't just kill them, either.

Only after thinking about it to that point did the knight realize that Howell was not just a smart guy. If he had been a little more arrogant or clung to the soldiers a little longer, he could have been rounded up and killed on the spot as a mob.

And even if he had kept saying that he wanted to see Carl, they could have thrown him in prison or killed him.

It seemed like it was crossing the line, but it stayed within it with strange precision.

In other words, not only was he intelligent, but he also knew how aristocratic society worked.

"This is..."

It was understandable that the soldier reported to him. The knight wondered what to do about this.

But he wasn't the one in charge...

"Is there a problem?"

Then, a soft voice was heard. The knight hesitated as he saw Carl once again visiting the refugee camp with Catherine, Billford, and Harmon to confirm the names of the refugees.

This wasn't a story to tell the prince. But when Carl directly asked him what was going on, he couldn't help but say something.

In the end, the knight briefly explained the situation, and Carl needed some time to gather his thoughts.

'...His younger sister... Was there...?'

He didn't think there was any description of family in the original work. Was this correct?

"What is his name?"

"… Sorry. I will check right away."

Did the soldier know the names of refugees? The soldier couldn't remember even though he had heard them and written them down.

"Um... No, that's fine. Since you said he wanted to see me, please call him over now."

"...All right."

The knight, who couldn't even imagine that Carl, a member of the royal family, would even meet a refugee, could not believe his ears.

But since he heard it, he had to follow it. As for the responsibility, Carl would take it...

***

"… Yes? That, that... Is that true?"

"Yes. Keep your mouth shut and follow me quietly."

Howell bit his tongue and nodded, too embarrassed to do so. The fishy taste of blood woke him up.

So he couldn't understand any more. The 4th prince, Carl, said he would meet Howell in person!

Howell wondered if this was an attempt to silence him. But if that was going to be the case, they could have dragged him in from the beginning. Also, they wouldn't sell the prince's name for something like this.

'Really? Really royalty?'

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced it wasn't a lie, but he really didn't understand why someone as high as a prince would regret meeting someone like Howell.

Even the one who caused this situation!

'Is he just a compassionate person? Or is he trying to play a prank?'

Even though Howell was so afraid, he quietly followed the soldier. Once he could cure Iriz, he could do anything, whether Carl was a demon or anything else.

"Do you have any weapons?"

"Oh, yes. Here it is."

Howell was startled by the soldier's low voice and quickly took out a dagger and handed it to him.

The soldier took it away with narrowed eyes and went to a secluded place to thoroughly search Howell's body with other soldiers.

He was so meticulous that he took everything that could be used as a weapon, even coins, and even searched Iriz who had lost consciousness, taking her mother's hairpin, which was her heirloom.

Although he was stripped naked and searched on a cold night, Howell felt relieved that this thorough act had made him realize that he was really going to meet the prince.

Howell, holding Iriz, who was again wrapped tightly in clothes, was dragged to a nearby building.

Howell swallowed his saliva as he headed toward the innermost part of the building that was used as a temporary barracks to manage the refugee camp.

An armed Knight of Davron was guarding the door.

"Master Carl, I brought him here."

In the knight's very careful voice, a voice was heard from beyond the tightly closed door.

"Let him in."

It was a boyish voice, a slightly high, clear voice.

But to Howell, the voice felt too heavy to bear. It wasn't just because it was the voice of a being who held the power over the life and death of him and Iriz, but there was something that grabbed hold of people and held them down.

When the door opened, Howell quickly lowered his head. And just like he once did when he worked as an administrator in Himeln, he bowed deeply and walked slowly until he stopped at an appropriate distance.

He didn't open his mouth or even make a sound.

He dared not do anything until permission was given.

"Were you a nobleman?"

The boy's voice flowed low with a strange sound.

"The family has fallen and not even a trace is left."

Howell answered cautiously and then shut his mouth tightly again, because he wasn't allowed to say more than that.

"Then, how do you know the etiquette? Didn't you learn it through your family?"

"I worked as an administrator in Himeln for a short time."

For a moment, a breathtaking silence passed by.

As Howell listened to the ragged breathing of Iriz, whom he held tightly in his arms, he realized that he was drenched in sweat before he knew it.

A boy... he thought.

But after only exchanging a few words, Howell had completely forgotten that Carl was still a small boy.

"Is that child your sister?"

"That's right."

"Do you want to treat the child?"

"Yes. Just wash her body and let her rest for a day in a warm place..."

"What is your name?"

Howell, who had been speaking urgently, stopped in his tracks.

He told something that wasn't allowed, and he could feel Carl's attention passing away from Iriz.

"Ha, Howell... Makini... is here."

Howell managed to squeeze out a trembling voice. Fear gripped him, along with the thought that he had made a mistake.

Again, there was silence. However, unlike before, someone slowly moved their body and the sound of their collar being brushed. It was hard to breathe.

"Howell Makini."

"Yes."

"Why should you and your sister, among all the refugees, be given a special opportunity?"

Howell's lips twitched. There were many things he wanted to say. But there wasn't a single thing he could say.

"If you can't find a reason, that's it. I have already given up precious time for you, and even that time is passing by meaninglessly."

"I wasted my time. Can you take responsibility for that?"

These were the words of Carl, who repeatedly took the time of Azgoth, the most precious emperor in this huge empire, and yet each time he proved his worth so that Azgoth did not feel that his time was a waste.

Even to Howell, who didn't know the circumstances, Carl's words felt too heavy.

"Howell Makini, I don't feel the need to invest any more time in you. There is no reason to treat your sister."

"That, that is..."

Carl's words fell like the blade of a guillotine. Howell's head turned white. The sweat had already dried and a chilly chill lingered.

"Really, what a disappointment."

But the moment he heard Carl's subsequent mutterings, Howell's mind flashed as if struck by lightning.

Disappointment was an emotion premised on expectations.

What expectations did Carl have from Howell?