Disclaimer: Can be read at any time. TW: short mention of abuse and murder

Antoine Hallsey

few hundred years ago, a human boy lived in the capital of Eaveton. His family was poor, but so were others. Apart from other species, of which few were in the city, every human, whose lifespan was shorter and considered to be worth less, had lived in poverty ever since the new King and his Captain appeared. The Great Witch, whose immense power saved the nation from one catastrophe, brought with it another: dead land all around, the whole area where the spell occurred ― and it was vast. Those for whom the few remaining farmlands belonged raised prices so high that food was impossible to buy daily; but even if everyone were able to afford it, there wouldn’t be enough anyway.

So human children got one task from their fathers: bring home food by the evening ― more precisely, steal. They all became skilled little thieves, soon stealing not only from elves and witches but from each other too. So this boy, Antoine Hallsey, stood on the street, turning his head this way and that way, and was unable to move. There was no food left on the market sold by farmers; now the competition was just between the kids. He’d seen them around, and not one of them felt evil. All were good children; they were just hungry, and they were afraid of their parents. He didn’t have the heart to steal from any of them.

This was not the first time he got home empty-handed and had to endure a great deal of scolding. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be able to steal if he wanted to, but it felt so alien to him that his whole body refused it, however hard he tried to persuade himself. He imagined his victim left there empty-handed, being afraid to go home. The only time Antoine got himself to steal was when an older boy, quite skilled, found a clumsy kid and kept looting him for more than necessary. So Antoine stole it back for him.

Soon, adults realized that going to work was futile. They could never keep up with prices, and most products got stolen before reaching the market. So they joined in on the real battle for food. Kids rarely dared to seriously hurt others to take their things, but parents were different. Mothers too; they did anything to make sure their own child survived. This is how Antoine was killed too.

I was standing in the middle of a grass field, and I was looking into the distance without moving an inch ― for several hours, maybe. There was not a single soul to be seen, only nature all around, constantly moving as the wind blew ― or maybe a little because of me too; I was somewhat dizzy. I didn’t know how I got here or who I was, but it didn’t feel like I lost my memories. It felt like I'd just been born. It was strange, since I could see that I was far above the ground; I was already quite tall… around a hundred and sixty centimeters, maybe. How could I be so grown if I was just born, or how could I have known how even to count that out? I was pretty sure I was just born, though.

I didn’t know what to do, so I set off in one direction, where high, snowy mountains could be seen in the distance. There was no particular reason why there; I just really liked how they looked.

I walked for what seemed like an eternity until I finally arrived at a village at the foot of the snowy mountains. There was snow all around the village too, so I was surprised to find it here of all places. But it had a tranquil and friendly feel to it.

I walked around and met some villagers. They all immediately came up to me when they saw a stranger and were the nicest people one could imagine. They welcomed me, offered me a meal, and then another, and told me about themselves and asked me about myself too, though I couldn’t say much.

An old couple, seeing how lost I was, said they’d offer me a place to stay for the night. I was welcomed into their home, and not just for the night: they treated me as their own. I could sense how melancholic they were, and I tried to be the kind of child they could be proud of. They were already quite old, humans too, and I knew they didn’t have much left. They told me about a son they had many years ago named Antoine, who got killed in the capital where they used to live. They told me he was a very kind boy and could never bring home food because his heart was so big he couldn’t get himself to steal from others. Even if they always scolded him for it, because “these were just dire times like that”, they were always proud to have such an “angelic boy”. Since I didn’t have a name, they named me Antoine as well. I didn’t mind being called that, if it made them feel better at least a little bit. I felt admiration towards Antoine anyway. His heart, which stayed pure during such times, resonated with something within me, and I decided to lead a life like that as well.

After my parents passed, that house became my own. It was small, but I gradually renovated and expanded it. Well, actually, I never had an actual job even after I grew up; I lived my life as planned, helping others here and there, without expecting anything in return. But this village had such a nice little community that they never left any goodwill unpaid ― and sometimes even helped me out as a surprise, bringing planks and bricks when they saw I started working on something new for my house again. Louie, the self-proclaimed village clown who was my best friend ― or something like that ― even helped me with assembling the building. Well, sometimes he helped just by entertaining me, though other times that felt annoying and did the exact opposite of helping. But I appreciated him keeping me company anyway. It’s not like he had other things to do; he usually just walked around, annoying people and talking as if he was doing some kind of performance, but nobody minded him since everyone knew he had a good heart too and always helped where he could.

All in all, I guess I found home and companions in Haran too. My house became big, but it was so empty that some mice and rats decided to move in. They were funny to look at, so I accepted them as my new housemates, and children started calling me Mice Man. After a while, everyone in Haran just called me Mice.

I think of myself as a normal person, but this way I ended up looking very strange wherever I go to take care of something. They either call me Mice out loud, see me holding a chubby rat in my hand, or if an actual human accompanies me, it's Louie - so not much better. But overall, even if I still have some things to resolve in myself, I think I quite like my life here…