One's Birthplace

01. Family Inside the Wall

Rain started pouring as if to honour my execution. Soon the axe would strike my forearm. The others joked that this was something a child, who grew up outside the wall, would experience at least once. The grown-ups scoffed, saying, 'A life outside the wall can only truly start after experiencing this.' They called this a rite of passage, an adult's honour, an honest ceremony, among other things. Those were pretty names for a pickpocket's execution.

“You seem to be on the quiet side.”

The moment the lady opened her mouth, the carriage shook. The coachman said that it was nothing alarming, the carriage had caught on a stone. The lady, who sat comfortably, smiled. It was a generous smile that meant she would allow this much.

“It seems so.”

The lady took the reins of the conversation and shook it. It seemed she desired to avoid the silence of the carriage.

“Shall we start with your name?”

A pickpocket's name was useless. Is she a lady with a softer heart than she looks? Those in higher positions cut off ordinary peoples arms and are quick to forget cutting them.

“My name is Iara.”

The lady's expression was difficult to describe. It was like a bitter sadness, like a smile without contempt. She set the teacup she'd held on her thigh.

“It's unique. It is a name that isn't generally used in the dome.”

The lady inquired as if merely passing the time.

“Who gave you your name?”

I gazed at her fair skin, fleshy body, with interest. She seemed uninterested in the goods I stole. She didn't even appear to want to cut off my arm.

However, I could not handle a noble like her, who treated me as a charity case. Ten years of standing on the outer wall. If the stolen goods were nothing more than an excuse to hold me, there must be something else she wanted.

“Madam, do you want any information?”

“Information?”

The lady's expression changed. Sympathy disappeared and her interest was revived. It seems as if the lady hadn't even considered asking about it, typical of those who have grown up beautifully.

“You must be selling information, too.”

“If the lady wishes.”

That day was the worst. Flying insects were laying eggs in the stew, the underwear hanging on the clothesline were almost rained on, and the pickpockets who looked like they were snooping around were caught. And of all things, I just had to be caught by the Lady of Vallerka, a high-ranking noble. I do not know what someone from Vallerka would be doing in a back alley, but I'll be grateful if she cuts off one of my arms. If I make a mistake, she'll probably have both my legs cut off.

The lady's interest seemed to be waning. She put the teacup to her lips again and glanced at me with sharp eyes. She could have been more of an annoying character than an outspoken evildoer. Perhaps she enjoys psychologically driven torture, the kind of person that takes pleasure in seeing a person's face turning pale.

“Madam.”

If that was the case, pleading would work better than negotiating.

“If you're going to cut it, cut off my right arm.”

The lady's brows furrowed terribly. However, the atmosphere defied my expectations. Her silence emphasized the sound of pouring rain. My situation was similar to a raindrop hitting a carriage. Falling somewhere undesired before breaking into pieces. But there was a difference. Rain held no feelings, whereas I, will surrender with open-mouthed fear.

“Why the right hand? Don't people usually ask to cut off their left arm?”

Fortunately, the lady's face regained the calmness of the spring sun on New Year's Day. She was a woman good at controlling her emotions.

“We all have the same arms, so there's something we can do with our left and right arms. But if you don't have your right arm, you'll likely be unreliable in the back alley, and they'll feel sorry for me even if I beg.”

The outer walls are full of one-armed and one-eyed, who are useless as they are lame. If a person's life was ruined the same as the previous generation (who became lame), wouldn't it be natural to follow their footsteps (do what they do in order to get sympathy).

I always had a hunch that this day would come before I could even stop it. Whether it be yesterday or today, it followed me like a fate I'd inevitably face. Still, if one of my arms is cut off, I won't be able to  steal any more, with nothing but my left arm I could stick my hand out and beg.

“Iara.”

If only I can survive this lady's clutches.

“I…”

The lady put the teacup she had placed on her thigh under her feet. She straightened her back and neatly put her hands together. She appeared earnest to engage in conversation.

“I won't chop your arm off.”

'Are you going to torture me then?' The words were at the tip of my tongue, but luckily, I didn't spit them out. I had an eye to discern the obvious. This lady was peculiar. Maybe she wanted to play a different kind of game. The problem was I couldn't figure out what kind of game it would be.

“I don't know what you want from me.”

“Would you mind answering my question?”

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It was a rude question. However, the lady seemed to welcome me with open arms.

The request was simple. Who was I to rebel? What else can a puppy do besides wag its tail?

“Yes.”

The lady smiled graciously and crossed one leg.

“Do you have parents?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Why wouldn't everyone else have one? They were gone before I got a taste of this sour world. But I was in front of someone who could save my life. I muttered my reply.

“I don't know what my father did, and I don't remember my mother……All I can remember is baking cookies or something.”

I grew up in the back alley of the outer wall since I was four years old. My memories of my family were vague. There weren't many to dwell on or recall. I hummed a song while sitting at a woven table. Mother was baking sweet cookies which made my mouth water. A grey-haired woman stroked my head, saying, “You'll just have to wait a little while, so sit still.”

Every time Lupen said this: It's you who came to the back alley by rejecting the orphanage. I didn't have a suitable guardian, so I learned there how to steal since about four or five years ago.

“Was your mother's name Sina?”

“I don't know.”

“I see.”

The Lady was like a doll in a display window. Dolls adorned in dresses sitting side by side watching passers-by. Their glass eyes were unchanging, their hair never out of place.

This lady always speaks kindly, if I had a chance to be like her, I'd have no choice but to be born again. It has been fifteen days since I tied my hair back, it was like a hood over my stained face. My jacket was also worn out, the sleeves looked ragged as if eaten by rats.

I couldn't help that we were born different. This lady must have lived in the city of Bayer since birth, and, given that I am a lone child of the outer wall since birth, each person's birthplace is naturally what controls one's life.

“Iara.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to read?”

“Just a bit.”

The lady's face brightened a little. She pulled out a book from the leather bag she brought. It was a book the size of the palm of my hand.

“Would you like to read this?”

I alternated looking at the lady's hand and my darkened hand. The surface seemed to be dyed black. I shook my head.

“I think it will get dirty.”

“It's okay if it gets dirty.”

“Why?”

“Hm?”

Lupen, my so-called father, slapped me in the face if I brought money that fell short of the usual quota. He did not hesitate to threaten me, often telling me that he would stab me with a knife. He was the adult that was often around me.

I hated people who make me feel ashamed and humiliated. Those people usually live with greater darkness inside their hearts. People with sweet tongues and cold eyes. Those who tried to weigh me down with their shady desires. Those who think it's better to be an adult who beats and yells.

“Why do you not mind if I get this dirty?”

I wish she would cut my arm off. It was uncomfortable here. It felt like I was peeking into a life I couldn't enjoy, as if my situation was like a caterpillar that had burrowed in the ground. Like said caterpillar, I'd be forced to crawl beneath a carriage for the rest of my life.

The Lady was not cruel, but my life here was.

“Iara.”

“Yes.”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

Is she criticising me for being badly ruined? Even though Lupen sometimes said he'd pluck out my eyeballs and put them up for auction, it's beautiful. I felt embarrassed to raise my head. There was nothing to look at, so I stared out the window. I thought she'd scold me, but the lady lifted her cup without saying a word.

Once upon a time, someone said that when the sky cries, it rains. Today's sky must be filled with sad things. The crying sky seemed to predict my future as I held back my tears and runny nose.

Is it enough to work as her maid? I didn't want to bend my back under such a person. I didn't mean to live listening to this innocent lady. There was freedom in the back alley. If only I earned the quota that day. But to do maid work in a place where I was uncertain when they'd cut my arm off?  It would be safer to run on thin ice.

The carriage silently crossed through the rain, came to a stop. The horseman knocked on the carriage politely. The sound was almost buried by the pouring rain. The lady gazed back at me and smiled.

“We've arrived.”