Mr. Death in the Steam World

After finishing her porridge, Melina placed the empty bowl on the bedside table and looked up at Phils.

"Sister Phils."

"Um?"

"Why are you helping me?" Her voice trailed off.

"We don't know each other, I have no money to give you, and I can't even remember all your names..."

"Aren't you afraid I'm a fraud? Aren't you afraid I'm just pretending to be pitiful to deceive you?"

Phils thought for a moment, then took Melina's hand, turned her palm over to reveal the old and new scars.

She patted Melina's head.

"Melina, a con artist wouldn't want to leave these things on herself."

Melina lowered her head and pursed her lips.

"And," Phils continued, "I know someone who's very good at telling if someone is lying."

"If he thought there was something wrong with you, he wouldn't have brought you here."

"That person..." Melina asked softly, "was it the brother who just rescued me?"

Fils couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, that's him. His name is Moon, and he's a detective."

"A detective?" Melina blinked. "The kind who helps people find things and solve cases?"

"Pretty much, but what he's looking for isn't something, it's the truth."

Melina nodded as if she understood, but didn't ask any more questions.

Looking at her bewildered and vulnerable profile, Phils suddenly recalled her own experiences.

That night in Wonderland, she was trembling with fear from the nightmare cards, but Moen stood in front of her and shot them into powder one by one.

On the night the demons descended, she was overwhelmed by the demon lord's oppressive aura, and it was Moen who stood in front of her again.

In the alley of Ironcrown City, a few drunken thugs blocked the way, and Moen knocked them down with a single punch.

Every time she was afraid, someone would stand in front of her.

And what about Melina? She's only twelve years old this year, about the same age as Clara.

Even after experiencing so many setbacks, no one will come to save her.

Melina has never been protected by anyone.

This thought was like a dull knife, cutting into Phils's heart again and again.

She suddenly realized that ever since the flame flower mark appeared on the back of her hand, what she had been thinking about was—why me? I don't want to be any kind of proxy.

I didn't beg Him to choose me. Why should I be dragged into this? All the problems are "me," all the fears are "me."

But now, looking at the dark red brand around Melina's wrist, she suddenly felt that those thoughts were no longer so important.

The important thing is not whether she is willing or not, but—

An unprecedented impulse surged from the bottom of her heart, making her body feel hot, causing the mark on the back of her hand to begin to heat up slightly, and leading her to say something that even she herself had not expected.

"Melina."

"Um?"

"You won't be taken back."

It was as if he were making a vow to himself, or as if he were declaring something to Sidwin Ashton, who was nowhere to be found at that moment.

"I promise."

The moment those words were spoken, the flame flower mark on the back of his hand suddenly lit up.

It was a warm, bright, golden light, like the morning sun.

The heat spread from the back of the hand to the wrist, from the wrist to the arm, and finally flowed throughout the whole body along the magic loop.

She no longer sees herself merely as "someone who gets caught up in trouble."

She wanted to protect someone, not as a candidate, not as a magician, but as herself.

Just like how Moen stood in front of her back then, just like how Arthur and Emily followed her to Ironcrown City without saying a word, she wanted to stand in front of another person as well.

This feeling both frightened her and made her more determined than ever before.

Instinct compelled her to extend her arm, and a flower of flames rose from her palm, exquisitely beautiful.

An intuition told her that this flower was like Moen's "Guardian Flame," capable of protecting those she wanted to protect.

She smiled and handed the flowers to Melina, who took them blankly. The flowers instantly dissipated, transforming into warmth that enveloped her entire body.

"No one has ever said anything like that to me before..."

Melina's eyes were red, and Phils didn't say anything more, just kept stroking her head.

Meanwhile, deep within the mine, at the altar.

Sidwin Ashton stood in front of the crystal, his hands resting on the stone platform, hammering away with a loud thud.

"What do you mean, 'ran away'?"

His voice wasn't loud, but the suppressed rage within it sent chills down your spine more than a roar.

The woman in the black robe stood at the entrance of the cave, her face hidden beneath the hood, revealing no expression.

"The iron windows of the stone building were pried open, but the night watchman was drunk and asleep, and didn't hear anything."

"We discovered it in the morning, but the trail went cold near the shantytown."

"The trail has gone cold?" Sidwin turned around, a dark red fire flickering in his eyes.

"You left that stuff on me, spent so much time and effort in my mine, and a little girl with no magic managed to escape right under your nose? Twice! This is the third time!"

The corner of the woman in the black robe's mouth twitched slightly.

"My mark is still on her. Finding her will be easy."

"Then go find it! Now! Right now! Bring that little mouse back to me!"

"And then what?" the bespectacled man who had been standing in the corner suddenly asked.

Sidwin turned sharply to look at him.

The bespectacled man pushed up his glasses, the gray-white lenses reflecting the light, obscuring the expression in his eyes.

"Young Master Ashton, have you considered how you plan to prevent her from escaping a fourth time, even if you bring her back?"

"Add two locks? Replace the iron door? Or tie her hands and feet? You can't nail her to the altar, can you?"

Sidwin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Moreover," the bespectacled man took a step forward, "the fact that the little girl from the shantytown could disappear so cleanly from the edge of the mine means that someone was helping her."

"That damn third candidate!"

"It might not be her personally." The bespectacled man shook his head. "She doesn't have that ability. You know better than we do who's been coming to Iron Crown City lately."

Sidwin remained silent for a moment, the anger on his face gradually fading, replaced by a coldness.

"You mean, the church is helping her?"

"That's possible," the bespectacled man said noncommittally, "but whoever helped her, one thing is clear—she won't be going back to Shilou."

"She plans to escape every single day you keep her locked up there. You can't keep someone like that locked up."

The sarcasm on the bespectacled man's face was undisguised.

Sidwin gritted his teeth. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

The bespectacled man did not answer immediately, but turned to look at the woman in the black robe.

How many residents are in the shantytown?

"The permanent residents, including the miners' families and migrants, number about six or seven hundred. If you add those living in temporary shelters nearby, the number may be over a thousand."

"That's more than enough."

The bespectacled man smiled slightly, his tone still filled with that unhurried composure.

"If you ask me, Master Ashton, instead of catching them one by one, we should just let them come to us."