Chapter 24: Finally, the Lower District

What greeted her eyes was a wasteland.

The town was cloaked in shades of gray, the streets reeking of a sour, vomit-like stench that lingered in the air. The people passing by had hollow eyes and numb expressions, trudging like zombies toward the mining district, pickaxes in hand and no protective gear in sight.

Not far away, a group of thin children played together, their red, frostbitten noses dripping with snot. Their worn cotton clothes provided only the most basic warmth.

Many elderly people, their faces weathered and worn, sat on the thresholds of their homes, trembling hands gripping canes. Their cloudy eyes lacked any spark of hope for survival.

They saved all their food for the young and strong in their families. When thirsty, they drank snow water filtered through crude methods. When hungry, they tightened the belts around their waists. If the hunger became unbearable, they punched their stomachs until the pain forced them to stop.

Further away, in the buildings, the irritating cries of a baby echoed, followed by the sounds of a man and woman shouting at each other. A loud crash of breaking glass silenced everything, leaving only the pitiful wails of the child.

On a rooftop, a shadowy figure seemed to fall, landing with a sickening thud like a bag of garbage. Red and white fluids spilled into the alley, causing passersby to frown, spit in disgust, and hurry away.

Just setting foot here, Bronya’s heart was struck by wave after wave of shock.

...Why is it like this?

Shouldn’t the Lower District be a stable, safe rear area?

The Lower District her mother had described was nothing like this living hell.

Like a lost child, Bronya murmured softly,

“Why... is it like this?”

Walking beside her, Venti seemed to catch her words and replied meaningfully,

“You must already have some answers in your heart, but I want to tell you—this is only a glimpse of reality.”

Bronya looked up, startled.

“When I first saw this, I also wondered why it had become like this. But—”

As he spoke, Venti quickened his pace, greeting a group of children running toward him. Like a magician, he pulled out snacks from nowhere and handed them out.

Cheers and laughter erupted. The more sensible children took the food to the elderly at home, who forced weak smiles and nodded in gratitude before pushing the food back, muttering,

“...Not hungry... you eat...”

As they watched this heartbreaking scene, Venti turned to Bronya and said softly,

“To survive here, the first thing you must learn is not to dwell on such things.”

“Not to dwell...”

“Because the people living here have never had a choice.”

Venti’s eyes carried a hint of melancholy.

“Whether it’s the harsh conditions or the hopeless tomorrows, too many accidents and changes can happen here.

If you dwell on what you can never have, you’ll only drown in anger and frustration over the unfairness of it all.”

“......”

Bronya fell silent, her guilt and self-reproach hard to quell.

“Alright. This is just the first stop. Let’s keep going—”

After waving goodbye to the children, Venti took Bronya to Natasha’s clinic.

Along the way, the kind-hearted noblewoman wanted to imitate Venti and give the children something, but this trip had been rushed, and she hadn’t brought any food. When she tried to offer Winter City Shields, Venti stopped her.

To them, it wouldn’t be care—it would be condescending charity.

Moreover, the children, weak and vulnerable, couldn’t protect the Shields. It would only put them in danger and foster unhealthy “habits.”

Even Venti didn’t always give out snacks for free. Sometimes, he asked the children to run small errands for him.

This was one reason he was so well-liked among the children. Simply being kind to them would only create a skewed perspective, depriving them of the concept of equal exchange.

Here, “equality” referred to interpersonal relationships, teaching them that interactions shouldn’t be one-sided.

However, as Venti was imparting this lesson, three little figures came running from the other side of the street—members of the Mole Gang.

The leader was Hook, her expression panicked at first but quickly turning to trust and urgency upon seeing Venti.

“It’s bad, Honorary Member Venti! Old... I mean, Sister Natasha is in trouble!”

“What’s wrong with Natasha?” Venti asked quickly.

“Oh, it’s not Sister Natasha! A lot of Wildfire members were brought in, all badly injured!”

The little girl accompanying Hook, Alina, added hastily.

“Yeah, and I saw Hook’s dad being called to help dig out a collapsed mine!”

Julian chimed in, equally worried.

“A mining accident, perhaps...”

As Venti pondered, Hook pushed him toward Natasha’s clinic, and Bronya, as an adult, was naturally drafted as extra help.

Upon arriving at the clinic, Hook and the others were sent home—the scene inside was far from suitable for children.

The clinic beds were filled with Wildfire members, their faces twisted in pain, sweat and blood soaking the sheets. Among them was Oleg, whom Venti knew well.

His injuries were especially severe, teetering on the edge of death. Natasha was performing emergency treatment, and when she spotted Venti entering, she called him over to help wheel Oleg into the operating room.

Bronya stood at the entrance, lost and unsure, until a cold female voice snapped her out of her daze.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around here. Which street are you from?”

Seeing the dazed woman still frozen, Seele’s tone grew impatient.

“If it’s just a minor issue, go sit over there and wait. We’re busy here, so don’t block the exit.”

“...Alright, sorry.”

Bronya quickly stepped aside, and the other woman walked in. Only then did Bronya notice the injury on her right arm, hastily bandaged, with blood seeping through like crimson butterflies.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, Seele frowned and turned to face her with a guarded stance, coldly saying,

“What, got a problem?”

“No, you misunderstood.”

For some reason, Bronya felt inherently inferior in front of this girl.

Seemingly convinced of her “harmlessness,” Seele leaned back against the wall and said bluntly,

“If you don’t want to be misunderstood, keep your eyes to yourself. Don’t stare at people like that.”

She made a quick gesture mimicking a pickpocket.

“You should know, only thieves and those spineless looters do that.”

“...Thieves, looters...”

As Bronya murmured, Seele grew even more suspicious of her out-of-place demeanor.

“Hey, I asked you a question earlier. Where are you from—”

Just as Seele was about to press further, the bright red light of the operating room turned green, and a weary Natasha and Venti emerged.

The former’s medical gloves were stained with blood, while the latter, though still spotless, looked far from carefree.

“Huh? Bard, what are you doing in there? How’s the boss?”

As Bronya was about to speak, the fierce girl beside her stepped forward, her tone unexpectedly warm and familiar, leaving Bronya feeling awkward.

She can talk nicely? Why’s she so harsh with me?

“Oh, Seele! Oleg was hanging by a thread, but I had a stroke of genius and used my lute strings to stitch up his wounds—”

As Venti began to ramble, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, Seele cut him off sharply.

“Get to the point.”

Her bloodshot eyes were filled with emotion, making Venti hesitate. He adjusted his hat and let Natasha explain.