Chapter 15: The Royal Selection Candidates' Side Glance (Patreon)

Otto Suwen.

A drifting, homeless peddler who'd failed at trading more times than he could count, a man whose life had never gone the way he wanted, gloomy and adrift.

Precisely because of that, he was willing to take on any job at rock-bottom prices, turning no one away — and that included becoming a middleman, a go-between, the very first merchant willing to publicly represent the slum.

Sometimes all it takes to break a deadlock is one person stepping forward to set an example. Subaru Natsuki, who'd read more than his share of tales about kings and rulers, understood that much. And as luck would have it, he'd found Otto — someone he'd taken an instant liking to. Coincidentally, Otto had taken to him just as fast.

Was there anything in the world more convenient, or more fortunate, than that?

Earth dragons hauled the dragon carriage forward, one after another in a long, magnificent line, an overwhelming sight that drew crowds of passersby.

Otto held his hat in one hand and shook a rattle-drum with the other. All sorts of delicious and delightful things spilled faint hints of themselves out of the wagon beds, and the children on the roadside froze in place, unable to look away, whining and begging their parents to buy them something.

Parents with pressing business of their own wouldn't indulge them, of course — if the kids got too unruly, a smack across the mouth settled things fast. But there were always parents with time to spare, unable to hold out against their children's pleading, and before they knew it they were tagging along behind the spectacular procession of wagons.

By the time they realized the wagons' final destination was the slum, it was already too late to turn back.

Because another sweeping, magnificent sight had already filled their eyes.

At the very edge of the slum, right where it bordered the commoners' district, two rows stood facing each other — one of men, one of women — each lined up in neat formation as if for some kind of welcoming ceremony. Every one of them was an adult, dressed in clean, simple clothes and shoes, backs straight as rods.

It completely upended everything the newcomers thought they knew about slum-dwellers. But what upended them even further was this: in each row of roughly twenty or thirty people, every single one of them was holding an instrument — some battered secondhand things, others crude but functional pieces that looked freshly made.

Then the music began.

It was a melody no one in this world, on this land, had ever heard before — a tune from Earth, carried here by Subaru Natsuki. Music has always had the power to move hearts, so long as it's good enough, and the performers sincere enough.

And the people heard it, truly heard it.

It was a rousing, upward-soaring sound, full of grand ambition, carrying the feeling of a gut full of resolve to shatter the very sky and face down anything in its path — a song of reform, played from the heart. Even though most of the players lacked any real skill, there was one man among them who'd been a musician before falling into the slum, and his playing alone made the whole piece sound achingly beautiful.

Even so, none of it came anywhere close to noise. It only made people stop, lean in, listen — and the longer they listened, the more their spirits lifted, a faint thrill rising in their chests.

But that wasn't all.

A cluster of children — malnourished, yes, but with rosy cheeks and bright, healthy color in their faces now, utterly adorable — carried baskets of flowers and scattered them with abandon, carpeting the ground in vivid color to welcome the arrivals.

"This—"

No one could say how large the crowd gathered around had grown by now. Whoever they were, every last one of them stood frozen in shock.

A regular customer who'd hitched a ride with the fruit-stall owner stood there slack-jawed, turning to the man beside him in a daze. "This is the slum?"

"Don't ask me. I don't know either."

The fruit-stall owner looked even more dumbfounded than he did, half-convinced he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere.

But he hadn't.

"Set sail! Here we go!"

At the head of the procession, Otto was just as stunned as everyone else, but he recovered quickly, forcing down the excitement welling up in his chest as he pulled his hat down low. A sudden feeling struck him.

This might just be the most pivotal turning point of his entire life.

Creak, creak, creak.

The wheels turned. With Otto in the lead, every wagon and every merchant, without the slightest hesitation, streamed one after another into the slum. Behind them, the crowd of onlookers exchanged bewildered glances.

Some let curiosity win out over caution, stamped their feet in resolve, and marched on in. Others turned and bolted, eager to spread the news — the slum undergoing this unprecedented, earth-shaking change was breaking news, and they needed to get out there and play the know-it-all who'd seen it first.

There's nothing quite like that feeling — knowing something no one else knows, making everyone turn their eyes to you just to hear what you have to say!

The news spread like a tide, one person telling ten, ten telling a hundred.

"Mm!"

The two rows of slum-dwellers playing their welcoming song at the border watched the first ordinary person — not a plant, not one of their own — walk in. Then a second. Then a third. They kept coming, one after another.

The performers' eyes grew wet, but they only blew harder, without pause, without rest. Today, even if they played themselves breathless and dropped dead right there, it would all have been worth it.

A little girl held her mother's hand, looking every which way, curious about everything — she'd never been anywhere like this before, and there were so many things here she half-recognized and half-didn't. Her eyes sparkled as she turned to look at something nearby. "Mama, what's that?"

Before her mother could answer, the slum-dweller in charge of that spot had already broken into a grin, brimming with pride, and with a flourish pulled a picture frame out from beneath a black cloth cover. "Good question, little miss! Today's our grand opening special — heh, you're in for a real treat. Watch closely now, don't blink — ta-da-da — this is one of our Magic Wonderland's finest tricks: The Divine Dragon Takes Flight!"

But what was inside the frame wasn't a painting — or rather, not an ordinary one.

It depicted the imagined majesty of the Protected Kingdom's guardian dragon soaring through the sky — except it had been created entirely by ants. A swarm of black ants, working in perfect unison, had arranged themselves with pinpoint precision into the towering, majestic form of a dragon in flight!

"What?!"

The mother had assumed the black cloth was hiding something shady, and had half-decided she shouldn't have come in after all. Before she could pull her daughter away, though, she found herself staring at the picture too.

How was she even supposed to describe this?

A swarm of ants alone would've just been repulsive. But a swarm of ants obediently arranging themselves into the noble form of the great dragon? No one — child or adult — could tear their eyes away.

There was nothing left to do but marvel, nothing left but to praise it.

Nearby, unloading cargo, Otto himself stood stunned. "There's actually a trick like this..."

He had a Divine Protection that let him communicate with all manner of insects, so he could understand them — and what the ants were saying was that the honey tasted good.

Which meant the picture had been made by dabbing honey in the shape of a dragon onto fixed spots within the frame, then releasing the ants inside. The ants, chasing the honey, naturally gathered exactly where the honey was — and in doing so, drew out the dragon's shape all on their own. That was the whole trick behind it.

Only because he had his Divine Protection did Otto understand how it worked — and even he was only just now learning such a thing was even possible. For anyone without a gift like his, it would look like nothing short of a miracle, astonishing beyond belief.

And at this very moment, tricks of this same miraculous caliber were happening all across the slum...

Playing out, unmistakably, dozens upon dozens of times at once!