Kurai Hi

### YUME

### Chapter 1: The Masked Riders

The morning sun had barely begun to illuminate the world when the silence surrounding a secluded lake was shattered by the thunderous pounding of hooves.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

A group of mysterious riders emerged from the dense forest, their black horses galloping across the narrow trail. Every rider wore dark clothing and a grotesque mask carved in the likeness of a demon. Their faces remained concealed, and their intentions were known to none.

The horses snorted as they approached the lake, their breath rising like pale smoke in the chilly morning air. The riders pulled their reins simultaneously, bringing their exhausted mounts to a halt beside the water.

For several moments, nobody spoke.

The lake lay motionless beneath the pale sky, reflecting the surrounding mountains and towering trees. Mist drifted across its surface, concealing the opposite shore in a veil of silver.

One of the masked riders dismounted and surveyed the surroundings. His gloved hand rested upon the hilt of his sword.

At last, he broke the silence.

"We made it."

His voice was low and gravelly, devoid of relief or excitement.

Another rider turned his demonic mask toward the forest.

"Are you certain this is the place?"

The first man glanced at the lake.

"According to the instructions, this is where we wait."

"How long?"

"Until they arrive."

Nobody asked who they were.

The masked men simply remained beside the lake, their black silhouettes standing motionless against the morning mist.

Far away from the mysterious riders, another kind of trouble was about to begin.

And unlike them, its cause had absolutely no intention of saving the world.

The sunlight crept through the cracks in an old wooden window, spreading across a small, untidy room.

A boy lay sprawled across his bed, wrapped in a blanket that had seen better days. His dark hair was a complete disaster, his pillow rested on the floor, and one leg dangled dangerously over the edge of the mattress.

On his right hand was a peculiar scar.

It stretched across his palm like a crooked lightning bolt, its edges darker than the surrounding skin. Nobody in the village knew how he had acquired it, and whenever anyone asked, the boy always changed the subject.

His name was Lucci.

And at that particular moment, he was enjoying what he considered the most important activity in existence.

Sleeping.

Unfortunately, the sun had other plans.

A beam of light struck him directly across the face.

Lucci frowned.

He pulled the blanket over his head.

Silence returned.

Three seconds later, a rooster outside his window unleashed a deafening cry.

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOO!"

Lucci shot upright.

"SHUT UP!"

The rooster answered with another triumphant crow.

Lucci glared through the window.

"One of these days, I'm going to turn you into dinner!"

The rooster flapped its wings and strutted away as though it had just won a great military campaign.

Lucci collapsed back onto his pillow.

"Even the chickens in this village have no respect for human suffering."

Then he noticed the sunlight.

His eyes widened.

He scrambled out of bed, stumbled over a wooden stool, kicked his blanket into a corner, and rushed to the window.

The sun was already shining brightly above the rooftops.

For several seconds, he stared at it in absolute disbelief.

Then his expression turned pale.

"Oh, no."

He grabbed his head.

"NO, NO, NO!"

He rushed around the room, searching for his clothes while nearly tripping over everything he owned.

"It's too late!"

He snatched up his shirt and pulled it on backward.

"That old man is going to kill me!"

He corrected his shirt and rushed toward the door.

"Not literally, probably. But he'll definitely kill my future!"

Lucci burst outside and began sprinting down the narrow village road.

The reason for his panic was simple.

Every morning, an elderly man named Master Genji opened the gates of the village training hall. Anyone who arrived late was forbidden from entering, regardless of their excuses.

And Lucci had already been late six times.

Today would make seven.

Master Genji had warned him that another late arrival would result in his name being removed from the training register.

For Lucci, that would be a catastrophe.

He had spent years dreaming of becoming a great warrior. He imagined himself wielding a legendary sword, defeating terrifying monsters, and earning the admiration of people throughout the world.

There was only one small obstacle standing between him and that magnificent future.

He was extraordinarily lazy.

And, as fate would have it, he was also remarkably talented at making terrible decisions.

Lucci raced down the road, kicking up clouds of dust.

"Please, please, please! Let the old man have a stomachache! Let him oversleep! Let a dragon land on the training hall!"

He suddenly stopped.

"No, wait. If a dragon lands on the training hall, there won't be a training hall."

He considered this for a moment.

"Actually, that might solve my problem."

Then he shook his head and continued running.

"FOCUS, LUCCI!"

By the time he reached the edge of the village, his lungs were burning and his legs felt like overcooked noodles.

The training hall stood on the opposite side of the settlement, beyond the river and a winding path through the woods.

He was already too late.

Still, he refused to surrender without trying.

After all, there was always a possibility that Master Genji had suddenly become a kinder person.

Lucci immediately dismissed the thought.

"Forget it. That old man would probably reject his own funeral invitation for being five seconds late."

He turned toward the river, hoping the shorter trail along the water might save him a few precious minutes.

Unfortunately, the universe had prepared a different distraction.

A very distracting one.

The river flowed peacefully through the forest, its crystal-clear water glimmering beneath the morning sun. Wildflowers grew along the banks, and the gentle rustling of leaves mingled with the distant songs of birds.

As Lucci hurried along the trail, something caught his attention.

A small pile of clothes lay beside the riverbank.

He slowed down.

Then he stopped completely.

He stared at the garments as though he had discovered a treasure chest abandoned by an ancient king.

"Huh?"

He glanced around.

Nobody appeared to be nearby.

Then he heard voices and splashing from farther along the river.

Several young women from the village were bathing in a secluded stretch of water, unaware that someone had approached the nearby trail. Their clothes had been left on the bank, not far from where Lucci stood.

The boy immediately realized the situation.

He should have turned around.

He should have announced his presence and walked away.

He should have done practically anything other than what he did next.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward the clothes.

Then toward the direction of the training hall.

Then back toward the clothes.

An expression of dreadful inspiration slowly spread across his face.

"Wait a minute..."

He placed a hand beneath his chin.

"If I sell these, I could make enough money for breakfast."

He paused.

"Actually, enough for lunch too."

Another pause.

"Maybe even dinner."

His stomach growled as though it enthusiastically supported the proposal.

Lucci looked toward the river again.

"This is a terrible idea."

He nodded solemnly.

"An absolutely terrible idea."

Then he picked up the clothes.

"I should be ashamed of myself."

He stuffed the garments into a bundle.

"Deeply ashamed."

And with the speed of a thief who had just remembered that consequences existed, he bolted into the forest.

A moment later, a startled voice echoed from the riverbank.

"WHERE ARE OUR CLOTHES?!"

Lucci ran faster.

"IT WASN'T ME!"

He immediately realized his mistake.

"WHY DID I SAY THAT?!"

Behind him, angry shouts erupted from the river.

"THAT BOY! CATCH HIM!"

Lucci glanced over his shoulder and nearly crashed into a tree.

"WHY IS EVERYONE SO GOOD AT RECOGNIZING ME?!"

He darted between the trees, clutching the bundle against his chest. Branches slapped his face, roots threatened to trip him, and his lungs begged him to reconsider every decision he had ever made.

Eventually, he reached an abandoned shed near the edge of the village.

He threw himself inside and slammed the door shut.

For several seconds, he remained motionless.

Then he cautiously peered through a crack in the wood.

Nobody was following him.

He exhaled.

"Wonderful."

He looked down at the bundle in his arms.

"Now, let's turn this disaster into a profitable business."

By noon, Lucci had washed the clothes thoroughly at a secluded part of the river, carefully removed the mud he had collected during his escape, and hung the garments behind the shed to dry.

He had even convinced himself that this constituted honest work.

After all, he had washed them.

In his mind, that somehow made everything better.

"See?" he muttered proudly. "I'm practically a merchant."

He folded the garments into a neat bundle and carried them home, avoiding the main road whenever he spotted anyone familiar.

Every passing villager seemed suspicious to him.

A woman carrying vegetables glanced in his direction.

Lucci immediately turned around and walked into a bush.

An old man greeted him.

Lucci pretended to be a tree.

A little child pointed at him and shouted, "MOM! THAT'S THE BOY WHO STOLE THE BATHING LADIES' CLOTHES!"

Lucci fled before the mother could respond.

By evening, he had hidden the bundle beneath his bed.

He lay down, folded his arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

"Tomorrow," he declared, "I shall begin a respectable business career."

He smiled.

"First, I'll sell these clothes. Then I'll buy food. Then I'll become rich."

His stomach growled.

"And then I'll finally become a warrior."

He closed his eyes.

"Everything is going perfectly."

Outside his window, the rooster crowed.

Lucci threw his pillow at the wall.

"GO TO SLEEP!"

The following morning, the village marketplace was already bustling with activity.

Merchants arranged their merchandise beneath colorful awnings, farmers unloaded baskets of fresh produce, and customers wandered between stalls, bargaining over everything from vegetables to handmade tools.

Amid the commotion stood Lucci.

He had arrived early, dressed neatly, with the bundle concealed beneath a piece of cloth.

His expression was solemn.

His posture was dignified.

And his conscience was absolutely nowhere to be found.

He approached an elderly merchant who sold secondhand garments.

"Good morning, sir."

The merchant glanced at him.

"What do you want, boy?"

Lucci placed the bundle on the counter.

"I have some excellent clothing for sale."

The old man unfolded the garments and inspected them.

"They're clean."

"Spotless," Lucci replied.

"Well maintained."

"Of course."

The merchant narrowed his eyes.

"Where did you get them?"

Lucci smiled with the confidence of a man whose entire future depended on the next sentence.

"A complicated business transaction."

The merchant stared at him.

"What kind of transaction?"

"The kind that is best left unexplained."

The old man slowly put the clothes down.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then the merchant sighed.

"You're a terrible liar."

Lucci's smile vanished.

"Really?"

"Terrible."

"Could you at least pretend otherwise?"

The merchant chuckled and offered him a modest sum.

Lucci accepted the money with trembling hands.

He had done it.

He had transformed stolen clothing into actual currency.

As he walked away, he gazed at the coins in his palm, his eyes shining with pride.

"Lucci," he whispered to himself, "you magnificent genius."

He immediately purchased a large breakfast from a nearby food stall.

Within minutes, half his earnings had disappeared into dumplings, roasted meat, and sweet rice cakes.

He stared at the remaining coins.

Then at his empty plate.

Then at the food stall.

"Could I have some more?"

The vendor folded his arms.

"With what money?"

Lucci looked at his coins.

He looked at the vendor.

Then he slowly placed one coin on the counter.

"One more dumpling."

The vendor handed it over.

Lucci took a bite and sighed with satisfaction.

"Ah... the life of a successful merchant."

Unfortunately, his happiness was short-lived.

Across the marketplace, three furious young women were questioning vendors about a boy with dark hair, a scar on his hand, and an unmistakably foolish face.

One of them suddenly spotted Lucci.

"There!"

Lucci froze.

Their eyes met.

For a single, dreadful moment, the entire marketplace seemed to fall silent.

Then Lucci swallowed his dumpling.

"Oh."

The women began marching toward him.

Lucci turned around.

"Well..."

He wiped his mouth.

"It was a pleasure doing business."

And he ran.

Again.

As angry shouts echoed through the marketplace, Lucci sprinted between the stalls, narrowly avoiding baskets, carts, and one extremely offended farmer.

He had no idea that his morning's foolishness was about to bring him into contact with something far more dangerous than angry villagers.

Beyond the marketplace, at the secluded lake, the masked riders were still waiting.

One of them had received a new message.

He unfolded the parchment, examined the inscription, and slowly raised his head.

His demonic mask reflected the sunlight.

"The boy has been found," he murmured.

The rider beside him turned.

"Are you certain?"

The first man folded the parchment.

"The scar on his hand matches the descr

iption."

A cold wind swept across the lake.

For the first time that morning, the horses began to panic.

The masked rider tightened his grip upon the reins.

"Then our orders have changed."

He looked toward the distant village.

"We bring Lucci back alive."

And somewhere in the marketplace, the boy in question was still running for his life over a few stolen clothes.

He had no idea that someone had finally come looking for him.

And they were not coming to buy anything.

END OF CHAPTER 1.