Chapter 65 : Schindel Strasse (65)

For several days, they wandered through various places.

Now that they had the key to the house, they were treated as residents of Schindel Strasse—but originally, they wouldn’t have been allowed to roam around so freely. 

The two of them thoroughly enjoyed their limited privileges.

While the places Hans had visited with Gretel were rather few, Schindel Strasse actually had a surprising variety of facilities. 

There were multiple theaters and libraries, as well as flower shops and hair salons—spaces Hans couldn’t understand with his sensibilities.

No herbs? 

No usefulness? 

Why on earth would anyone tenderly grow flowers from the surface world? 

You have to pay to get your hair cut?

But since Alje liked it, Hans gladly paid for all of it.

The girl’s beautiful hair was always in perfect condition and didn’t need any work, but Hans’s messy mane was trimmed into something quite presentable.

And at the flower shop.

“What kind of flower is that?”

The labyrinth’s poison was thick in the air. 

Raising living flowers was an extravagant luxury, so Alje settled for buying a well-dried flower bookmark instead.

A single white flower—not particularly special, but pretty enough. 

It was so plain that it seemed familiar, like he might’ve seen it outside… or maybe not.

“A flower from the Blumenwiese.”

Hans almost nodded at Alje’s oddly poetic words but then paused.

“…Isn’t that just another name for a nameless weed?” 

“Exactly.”

Outside, it was nothing but a common, meaningless, useless weed.

And yet, Alje tucked it away preciously in her arms. 

In fact, most of the things Alje had picked up during the past few idle days were like that. 

Starting with a tattered third-rate romance novel from the library.

A glossy black stone sculpture, a wall painting of the blue sky that had faded yellow due to poor skill and maintenance, and now, the flower bookmark.

As if they were valuable relics, Alje placed them carefully in her room, one by one.

In that way, she was slowly leaving traces of herself on things that didn’t originally belong to her.

“But it’s still pretty!” 

“If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

Expecting a normal aesthetic sense from someone who guts monsters like it’s nothing—Hans thought—was probably unreasonable. 

As long as Alje was happy, that was enough for him too.

The fact that this single flower bookmark cost about the same as one of the swords he used and wore down like a disposable tool made his stomach twist a little. 

But hunters never planned for the future or saved for later. 

Whether their pockets were full or empty, they emptied just as fast.

When things improved, they simply spent more. 

And right now, Hans’s pockets were fuller than ever.

Hans stared at the flower-like girl, who in turn stared fixedly at the flower bookmark, and casually spoke.

“Do you want to leave?”

“…Huh? Huh?!”

She answered on reflex, then flinched and turned toward him in surprise.

“You scared me. What kind of sudden question is that, old man?”

“It’s just… it feels like the things you’ve been collecting are all linked to the outside world.”

At his words, the girl smiled innocently. 

Hans was slightly surprised by how there was no shadow in that smile.

“If you’re asking whether I miss it, then of course I do.”

Well, that was only natural. 

Was there anyone in the labyrinth who didn’t miss the outside world?

“But if you’re asking whether I want to leave—then no.”

“…What?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying I like it here. It’s just…”

Apparently, even for the girl, that answer was a bit embarrassing. 

Alje looked away for a moment. 

Hans didn’t press for more and waited quietly.

Without even trying, their footsteps naturally synced, echoing against the gray bricks—tap, tap, tap—in perfect rhythm. 

And in that brief moment, in a voice as soft as a breeze, the girl whispered:

“If I hadn’t come into the labyrinth… I wouldn’t have met you, would I?”

Hans pretended not to have heard her, as if her words had been drowned out by the ambient noise, and said nothing in response.

One could dismiss her words, after all. 

Say that the girl didn’t particularly hate the labyrinth simply because she was a monster. 

That she actually felt more at ease in this noxious environment.

Even as he defensively entertained that thought, Hans’s grip tightened slightly—not with the intent to hurt, but as if not wanting to let go.

“What does it matter! We can’t leave anyway.”

The girl, who had shown a flicker of disappointment, quickly spoke again with forced cheer.

“Whether we like it or not, we have to live here. So it’s better to think positively, right? Don’t you agree, mister?” 

“…”

Hans knew a way out of this place.

A prison confines only its prisoners. 

There’s no such prison in the world that can keep the warden from leaving. 

It may not be easy, even for the witches—but between zero and one, there lies an enormous difference.

And just like that, as if fate itself had given him a push.

For Hans, zero had become one.

He hadn’t done anything in particular, yet puzzle pieces from all directions had fallen into place on their own. 

He wasn’t a witch, but he was favored by one. 

It might take Gretel hundreds of years to earn the merit required to escape the labyrinth.

But right now, walking hand in hand with him, was a “merit” that could shorten those hundreds of years into an instant.

“Mister?”

What was he hesitating and agonizing over?

Hans was no saint. 

He had always been called a bastard. 

A mutt wagging its tail at its master, shoving its snout toward meat the moment it saw it.

So then, if there was a juicy piece of meat placed on his dog bowl now, shouldn’t he simply devour it?

If he escaped the labyrinth, there’d be no more battles, no more suffering.

The very fact that he could fight monsters hand-to-hand already made him a valuable warrior anywhere. 

And with a witch by his side, there’d be no contest. 

A catastrophe that cannot be communicated with only evokes fear. 

But one that can be communicated with inspires awe.

“What are you thinking about? You looked… kind of scary just now.” 

“Not lecherous?” 

“Hmph. You think I can’t tell the difference?”

But in the end, Hans relaxed his tense expression and smiled at the girl.

“How about now?” 

“Nope. You’re fine now. But what were you thinking about so seriously?” 

“Just… about the labyrinth. And the outside.”

The warmth of their clasped hands was comforting. 

Even if it wasn’t a romantic feeling, it was still clear that this battle-scarred hunter was finding comfort through this tiny girl.

Separate from his love and devotion for Gretel—there’s no such thing as a perfect slave who relies on their master for everything. 

She was the one Hans had to devote himself to, not the one who would devote herself to him.

“Life’s not easy, y’know. Playing around is fun and all, but we can’t do it forever.” 

“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

Hans deliberately shifted his thoughts toward simpler matters. 

Not to problems with no answers, but to clear, tangible realities.

“It’s about time we heard from her.” 

“Who?” 

“Gretel. Maybe a new request, or some alchemical supplies… things like that.”

They walked home beneath the deepening dusk.

“That’s funny. Don’t hunters usually hunt monsters and sell the materials for money?” 

“I’ve got a direct connection. And think about it—where do you think all those materials end up anyway? Besides… well… It’s hard for me to work with other hunters.” 

“Why?” 

“Because the one backing me is way too impressive.”

To the girl who somehow knew far more about the labyrinth’s workings than anyone had ever taught her, he added a touch of the gritty, firsthand details that could only come from direct experience.

If he truly wanted her to stay innocent forever, he’d have to cover her ears, blindfold her, and keep her shielded from the filth of the world. 

But Hans couldn’t stand the idea of her remaining weak and ignorant forever due to his own indecision.

“People get jealous. To be blunt, it’s not like I’m any better than them—but I get treated like I am.” 

“If someone’s doing well, you should congratulate them and work hard to be like them. Pulling someone else down doesn’t make you a better person…”

“You wouldn’t understand. No… I hope you never do.”

About the sticky inferiority and ugliness of humans.

Even the things that squirmed inside his own heart.

“Okay! I’ll do what you say, mister!”

They walked home, exchanging such trivial conversation.

He had been spending money rather freely these days, but there was still a bit left. 

Maybe next time, they could go somewhere else—such leisurely chatter passed between them.

But perhaps Hans’s earlier words had been a bad omen. 

If not that— then perhaps it was simply that fate had begun to push him forward.

Just as he was about to start preparing dinner, Hans felt it—something pulsing in his chest. 

A heartbeat that was not his own.

It should have been surprising, but he had experienced it many times before. 

Hans silently gestured for Alje to stay quiet, then pulled out the doll he always kept tucked in his coat.

Red curly hair. 

Reddish-brown eyes. 

It had always looked lifelike, but now its previously dull eyes were clear and focused.

[Johannes.]

The doll opened its mouth, relaying the words of its mistress.

Even at that moment, Hans didn’t think much of it. 

Yes, it was about time she contacted him again. 

What kind of monster would he be hunting this time? 

He was having those sorts of mundane, routine thoughts.

But the moment Gretel’s next words came through, Hans’s expression turned rigid.

[The witch is dead.]

“…What?”

Unlike the girl behind him who only tilted her head in confusion, Hans understood exactly what those words meant.

[Yes. It’s just as you think.]

Hans’s grip loosened—he nearly dropped the doll. 

But the doll moved on its own, climbing back into his palm. 

It scurried up his arm, perched on his shoulder, and pressed its soft-stitched head to his ear, whispering as if shouting.

The sound it made wasn’t loud—but its meaning struck Hans like thunder.

[Walpurgis Night has fallen.]