"Hey, hey! Don't touch the coat, it's new!"
The guards completely ignored me. One of them tried to grab my arm, but I pulled it back.
"I can leave on my own. Thanks for absolutely nothing."
I let out a deep sigh as I walked away from the entrance to Mistral's noble district.
Damn it. I hate guards.
Just because they've never seen me around here, I suddenly become suspicious. I doubt they memorize the face of everyone who walks by. It also had something to do with my Scroll not having the required access level, but I wasn't really paying attention. So I made the most rational choice...
Bribery.
And if they didn't want it, they could've just said no. No need to resort to physical violence.
I'd gone through all that effort just to look more presentable. I bought a white overcoat, the color of dirty snow, with a hood that wasn't just stylish, but practical too. Paired with my new fur cap, it helped hide my face from any curious Spider bandit.
My hair is still too long, but I'm not letting just any barber in Mistral touch it.
I walked a few more blocks until I found a relatively clean park bench. I stopped, tossed my backpack and the rifle I was carrying onto the bench with an annoyed motion, then sat down, rubbing my face.
Twenty-four days left until the competition... If I keep stealing Spider bandits' wallets, I might be able to keep myself going a little longer. But the real problem is where I'm supposed to stay. The original plan was to get a hotel in the noble district, but that doesn't seem like it's happening.
I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the ground. My new overcoat already had a few mud stains from the rain. So far it's just been one pile of shit after another, but I'm not letting that get me down.
Think about their faces, Whitley. Their disappointed, furious faces when you win the competition.
A small smile appeared at the corner of my mouth.
Wow! I already feel a lot better.
I leaned my head back against the bench, closed my eyes, and let out a long sigh while feeling the sun against my face.
That's when I heard footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes, annoyed by the interruption.
"Argh, that's bright..."
I squinted hard, trying to focus on the figure standing in front of me, but the guy's bald head wouldn't let me, reflecting the sunlight straight into my eyes like a damn spotlight.
After a few seconds of adjusting my vision, I finally managed to see who it was.
It was the guy who helped me get to the capital, the tavern owner, the retired Huntsman...
It was...
"Denis."
"It's Doug," he corrected.
I stood up from the bench, brushing a bit of dirt off my shoulders with a wave of my hand.
"And what did I say?"
"Denis. You said Denis."
"Oh... didn't I? I'm pretty sure I said Doug. Anyway, how's the family? I'd love to hear about it, but I've got places to be, so... bye-bye."
I can't believe I'm gonna have to sleep in a dumpster again...
I quickly grabbed my backpack and rifle, threw the straps over my shoulder, and started walking away.
"No, you don't, Mr. Whitley Schnee."
I froze mid-step, feeling my blood run cold for a second. I forced out a quiet laugh and turned halfway toward him, keeping my tone casual and sarcastic.
"I think you've got a few things mixed up, mate."
"I don't think I do, kid," Doug replied.
"Look, Doug, right?... I'm flattered you think I look like that handsome guy, but I'm not him. Besides, he's dead. Don't you read the news?"
"Cut the crap, Whitley. There's a police station nearby. Come with me, and I'll figure out a way to get you back to Atlas," Doug said, clearly exhausted.
I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure.
"Didn't I tell you I have a mother here? I'm pretty sure Whitley Schnee doesn't have a mother in Mistral."
Doug raised an eyebrow.
"Uh-huh. And where is she?"
In desperation, I pointed at the first person I saw—a ragged, middle-aged woman pushing a shopping cart full of old bags on the other side of the square.
"Right there," I answered confidently.
The exact moment Doug turned his head to look where I was pointing, I wasted no time and started running.
Great. Another guy who knows I'm alive and, on top of that, wants to send me home. At least he's not with Spider. He'll give up soon enough. The guy's old. No way he can keep chasing me.
I ran through Mistral's narrow streets, down steep stairways and through tight alleys between the tall buildings. Right, then left, weaving around people and old crates. It was almost fun. The old bald guy wasn't going to catch me.
I turned into another alley—
THUD!
I slammed straight into something solid and nearly landed on my butt. When I looked up, I let out an annoyed sigh.
Doug was standing right there in front of me.
"Guess the homeless lady wasn't your mother after all," he said dryly.
"Hey, mate, that's my mother you're talking about. Show some respect, please," I replied with fake indignation.
She wasn't exactly the best choice for my fake mom, but they had plenty in common. For example, they were both probably going to end up drunk at some point during the day.
Doug stared at me, completely unamused. He crossed his arms, blocking the alley with his broad frame.
"Whitley, this isn't a joke. I don't know how you got mixed up with Spider, but they're dangerous. And from what I've heard, every single one of them is looking for you."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know... OH MY TWO BROTHERS, A GRIMM!" I suddenly shouted, pointing behind him with as much fake panic as I could manage.
Doug instinctively whipped his head around, his whole body tensing like the old Huntsman he was.
By the time he turned back, I was already running away, laughing.
"MWAHAHAHAHAHA! THE WIND BLEW AWAY YOUR BRAINS ALONG WITH YOUR HAIR?!" I yelled over my shoulder, laughing as I ran.
Very nice of him to try being a responsible adult, but in this second life of mine as Whitley Schnee, I'm done with adults telling me what to do. Especially if he wants to send me back to the manor.
I kept running through Mistral's narrow alleys, jumping over crates and taking the stairs two at a time. My chest burned, but the smile never left my face. The old man didn't stand a chance. I was faster, smarter, and—
Fwoooosh!
I heard a strange sound of something cutting through the air behind me. Before I could react, something spun through the air and slammed into my legs.
"What the—?!"
I completely lost my balance and crashed face-first onto the alley floor, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. My backpack slammed against my back, and my rifle slipped from my hand, sliding several meters ahead.
I lay there, dazed for a second, my face pressed against the cold, dirty stone.
"Damn."
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked back at my legs, now tightly tied together.
What kind of primitive tool is this?
It looked like two rocks tied together with an old rope. Who even uses something like this nowadays?
Lifting my head, I saw Doug walking toward me, completely unhurried, as if he'd just finished taking a casual stroll.
He stopped a few meters away, looking down at me with a tired expression.
"You done?" he asked.
Probably not.
Ignoring him, I asked,
"You carry that thing around everywhere just to throw it at people?"
"Nah. Usually I use knives," he replied flatly.
Damn... that's kinda cool.
"Alright, Mr. Badass. I suppose I'll have to listen to you now."
"Good." He crossed his arms. "Now that you've stopped running around like a five-year-old... Spider is really after you. It's not just one or two people, the whole organization is looking for you, and they're tearing the city apart. From what I saw, you even managed to piss one of them off on a personal level."
"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don't know."
"For fuck's sake, kid, this is serious! They're dangerous. You could get hurt—or killed!"
"And why do you care, Doug? Last I checked, this has nothing to do with you. Looking for a reward for finding Jacques Schnee's son?"
Doug looked at me for a moment before answering, letting out a small laugh.
"Not gonna lie, I wouldn't turn down a reward. But that's not why I came looking for you."
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Doug uncrossed his arms and let out a long sigh.
"I know it doesn't look like it, but I was a Huntsman for a lot of years. Even took the oath back in my final years at Haven. Then I find out the kid I brought to the capital never went home and is instead being hunted by a criminal organization... that kind of weighs on your conscience, you know?"
He rubbed his bald head, looking away for a second before meeting my eyes again.
"I should've dragged you to the guards back at that tavern. And I haven't been able to get that out of my head since. I can't just pretend I don't know what's happening."
That was... honest.
The guy really did seem guilty. It was almost kind of cute, in a rough, bald sort of way. But still... I didn't want to go back.
Doug sighed again, as if he could read my expression.
"Alright. You don't want to go back to Atlas, fine. But I can at least get you out of the capital. I've got a few contacts. I can take you somewhere safe, where Spider won't find you."
"No," I answered almost immediately.
Doug frowned, visibly irritated.
"What now?"
Still sitting on the ground with my legs tied together, I crossed my arms.
"I have to compete in the Mistral Shooting Tournament. Twenty-four days left. I'm not leaving the capital before that."
Doug stared at me as if I'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.
"Are you stupid?"
Rude.
I narrowed my eyes and lifted my chin, maintaining as much dignity as possible despite sitting on the filthy ground with my legs tied together.
Doug just stared at me for several long seconds, completely speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again, rubbed his bald head, gestured with both hands as if he had no idea what to do with them, let out a low grunt, and turned his face away, clearly trying to keep himself under control.
"You... you actually want to enter a shooting competition... while the entirety of Spider is looking for you?" he muttered, almost in disbelief. "Kid, that's suicide. They'll find you immediately. It's a public event, there'll be too many people..."
Doug stayed silent for a while longer, taking several deep breaths. Finally, he let out one long, defeated sigh.
"Alright... I've got a safe place where you can stay until the competition. But the moment it's over, you're leaving the capital. Capiche?"
Staying under the protection of an experienced Huntsman sounds a lot better than sleeping on the streets... and he doesn't seem like a bad guy.
"Lead the way," I said with a smile.