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Chapter 65 - The board of many faces

At the center stood a massive wooden billboard, its surface absolutely buried beneath papers. Old sketches, torn edges, and weather-stained ink all missing-person notices. There were so many of them that newer sheets overlapped the old, creating layers of forgotten grief.

An old woman stood there, clutching one particular poster. Her hands trembled as she tried desperately to press it back against the board, even as a younger man beside her firmly pulled it down.

"Please," she begged, her voice raw. "Don't take it down! He's still out there my grandson's still out there!"

The man sighed, exasperated. "Granny, it's been four years. We've got too many gone now. We need space for the new ones."

A few townsfolk nearby murmured some nodding, others looking away in pity.

The woman shook her head furiously, clutching the poster to her chest. "You don't understand! He's not gone! He's not! I just know it! I heard his voice last night!"

"Stop it, Granny! You know he's gone just accept that damn reality!" the man snapped, shaking her wrinkled old hands off his sides. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and appeared to have the duty of managing the notice board, and when he pulled away, her frail frame nearly stumbled. The crumpled poster fluttered to the ground, but she immediately scrambled and clutched it back to her chest as if it were something she couldn't live without.

Gasps rippled through the small crowd. Someone muttered, "That's enough, Harl," referring to the tall man, but he only gritted his teeth, guilt and anger mixing on his face.

From afar, we watched. "Wow, well, they weren't pretending not to care about the missing people after all," Father murmured. He wasn't willing to step in, wisely allowing the locals to handle themselves. "Wow, so much going on here."

"Yeah, Father," Astraya agreed quietly.

I stared in silence, Morad as well as he moved in his fish bowl.

"On the other hand," Father observed, watching the scene unfold, "you have people right there selling and buying, not paying attention at all to this. Then you have these people arguing over space and posters. What a weird dynamic."

I stared in silence, Morad as well as he moved in his fish bowl.

The man, Harl, jabbed a finger toward the old woman. "Alright then! The only way I'm letting your poster back up here is if you pay the fee! Haven't I tried my best, huh? You know you pay to have the poster here, you know how much you owe, Granny? Twelve shards! And you'll need an additional twenty-four shards to outbid the family that bought this space on the board. Then I will allow it!"

"Harl, you dog!" someone shouted from the edge of the crowd.

Harl snapped back, "Well, screw you! Whoever said that! She's been on this board for four years is that fair?"

Nobody replied. They seemed to agree with his point, yet still hated him for making it.

Before anyone could move, another voice cut sharply through the noise.

"Make room!" a woman shouted.

A couple approached mid-forties, both weary-eyed, carrying a fresh poster still wet with ink. The wife stormed up, clutching the paper like a weapon. Her makeup was clearly washed away by crying, but her voice was laced with a chilling, vile tone.

"Move aside, Maera!" she spat at the old woman. "We've just lost our daughter, and I won't waste another breath crying. Take your poster and leave this place!"

The old woman—Granny Maera—lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were timid, as if she knew trouble had arrived, but her voice was still weak and broken. "Rina, you're here. I'm so sorry about Hana. But why did you buy all the spaces on the board? What about others? What about my grandson?"

Rina, the newcomer, was indeed different from the rest of the townsfolk. Her flamboyant attire suggested a wealth or status apart from the drab norm, but it couldn't hide her irritating demeanor.

"I don't give a damn about anybody here. If you want the space, then outbid me," she snapped, staring around the square, daring anyone to counter her.

"Are you all going to allow her to talk to us like that?" Granny said.

Harl, tired of the spectacle, intervened. "Granny, just go home. You can paste your poster at your front door. The town needs this notice board for paying people."

Rina's expression twisted, as though the sight of the grieving old woman disgusted her. "And don't you think that poster has done enough to this town?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at the shrinking grandmother.

"What do you mean? Do you mean what I think you're saying?" Granny Maera stared up, horrified.

"Yes. You know exactly what I mean. Tch," Rina scoffed.

Her husband quickly stepped in, trying to hold her back. "Rina—enough."

But she shoved him off and pointed a shaking finger at Maera. "You all pretend! But not me! You pretend not to see it! She's the reason this town is facing all these disappearances! She called it on us, with her wailing and her prayers!"

A shocked murmur ran through the villagers. Harl immediately stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable. Others exchanged wary glances.

"So because my grandson was the first to go missing means he cursed this upon this town?" Granny Maera replied, completely heartbroken.

"Yes" another voice answered from the crowd.

The tension thickened, turning the square cold. Rina's husband tried again to calm her, but she only tore free, shouting, "Yes… You think we don't know? You cursed us, Maera! You cursed all of Blackroot!"

Maera's voice cracked completely. "Harl, please put it back! Don't take away my only hope!"

The air seemed to still. Rina, seeing that the old woman's only concern was the poster she believed was bad luck, was about to explode.

"Why, you old ha—" She lunged, clearly intending to grab the frail woman.

It was then that Father stepped forward at last, his tone calm but cutting cleanly through the crowd's noise. "Enough."

Heads turned. Father's presence alone seemed to press the moment down, the clamor immediately ceasing. He looked first at the densely papered notice board, then at Harl, and finally at the distraught couple.

He stood beside the old woman, his stance protective. "Firstly, you all are being unnecessarily disrespectful to this old lady," Father said, his tone authoritative. "Her poster is only one. There is enough space for everyone. You can see she is clearly still shaken by the situation."

"Who the hell are you?" Rina shot back, her voice ringing with defiance. "And this isn't your concern! Get lost!"

A murmur of agreement ran through the villagers. Astraya and I exchanged worried glances; this was clearly problematic, and these people were acting irrationally. They wanted to know why he thought he could step in.

"Sigh. Well, you leave me no choice." Father brought out his pocket watch.

As the bronze surface caught the light, he simply stated, "I'm a Manomancer."

Everyone gasped in shock. There it was again the immediate, overwhelming effect of his occupation.

But this time, the reaction was mixed. Someone from the crowd muttered loud enough to be heard, "Great, another cursed person is in this town."

Father didn't flinch. He met the man's gaze. "Well, that's correct. But this cursed person is backed by the state and the King. If you have any complaints, go to Manyblood. I'm sure they will be glad to hear it, huh?" The sarcasm in his voice was thick.

The crowd's feelings were a jumbled mess some were awed, some were clearly hateful, and others seemed resigned to the fact that someone with power had arrived.

Father spoke again, making it an open question to the onlookers: "Why do you people pay to have a missing poster on the board? Sigh. It's clearly for everyone."

He then fixed his strict gaze solely on Harl. "And why is her poster the only one removed here? You keep saying space, but there is more than enough . So why don't you want her to put hers up?"

Harl, shaken by the presence of a man backed by the state, grew sweaty. "Wel… we… welll, she has long overstated her usage of the board, sir."

Assessing Harl's strained tone and shifty demeanor, Father said, "Oh, really? So you're telling me that if I check these other posters right here, I wouldn't find others just as long overused as Granny's poster? Okay then, let me check for myself."

"Ahhhh! No! No need for that, sir!" Harl immediately protested.

"Well then, why are you not allowing her?" Father demanded.

Everyone was quiet, suddenly curious. It was as if Father was implying Harl only didn't want Granny's poster specifically. Father stared Harl down until the man clutched the back of his head, feeling the pressure.

"Oh, well that's interesting. I think I understand it now." Father turned to Rina. "Did you pay extra so Harl wouldn't allow Granny here to keep her poster there?"

Rina didn't even care to hide it; she replied bluntly, "I'm not going to place my daughter's poster where it's ridden with bad luck and a curse!"

"Hmm. Well, then, too bad. I have decided." He faced Harl. "Let the old woman keep her poster. It harms no one."

Everyone gasped, as though Father were playing with fire. Harl, finally accepting the guilt of being caught, had no choice. "Alright, sir," he muttered, and carefully placed the old, crumpled poster back on the board.

Father now faced Rina. "Well?"

Rina was boiling. "I will never share that board with that poster!" she snapped. She whirled around and stormed away. Her husband apologized profusely to Father. "Sorry, sir, she is just grieving. I apologize again."

He then added, his voice lowering with urgency, "Thank goodness you're here! You can help with the situation in this town now. Thank goodness We now have two high-profile people in this town."

"huh?" Father replied, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

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