"Can you move?" A hurried but coquettish voice came out of the second burly man as he crouched over his counterpart's wailing body.
"Darling, please don't scare me like this," the man said, his meaty face full of apprehension. His expression was worried, with extreme concern written all over his face.
Only... this was his feeling towards another man.
It was in this particularly questionable state that the guard of the barony walked in upon them. The burly man's visage instantly turned cold and he protected his companion behind his back.
"I wonder what business the Baron's guard has in such recesses of the slum's forest?" His tone was cold and he was proactive, but he remained polite. Such was the respect the Barony received.
The guard didn't reply at first, choosing to observe the injured person on the floor and the nature of his injuries.
He finally looked up and asked in an imperative tone. "What happened here?"
"How's that your business?" The burly man retorted.
The guard's eyes narrowed and he pulled out his sword, its blade gleaming with sharp indifference. "I won't ask one more time."
The burly man grumbled inwardly before speaking in a hateful tone. "It was a boy, a naked bastard that somehow shattered my darling's bones with a kick!"
His voice was hateful and a bit agitated, confirming the truth of his words, but the guard frowned instead.
"He was naked, and? Don't tell me that's the only piece of information you have about this particular 'boy' "
"Of course not," the burly man replied, clearly irritated. "He was also... Huh?"
In his mind, there seemed to be an invisible eraser removing the image of the boy from his mind and soon, the only thing he could remember was that he was naked.
His eyes widened and he forgot to speak for a long time. Eventually, he muttered in shock and fear.
"I... can't remember..."
---
Othello moved through the forest unhurriedly, each step carrying him away from the earlier scream. The canopy above scattered the rays of the afternoon sun into tiny rays that have his surroundings and an indescribable charm. His movement was silent, making him feel more unnatural.
'I'll have to get used to this sooner than later,' he let out a small breath.
He was nearing the outskirts of the forest, still a bit bothered about how to find clothes when something disrupted his rhythm.
A tremor from the earth.
Then another.
Two sets of footsteps— one frantic and light, the other heavy.
Othello paused, not afraid of being found due to his position in the trees.
The sound of rustling fabric reached his ears, followed by a muffled whimper that seemed to dissolve into the trees. His eyes narrowed and his curiosity burned strong. Without missing a beat, he silently moved towards the sound.
It didn't take long before the scene revealed itself.
Behind a cluster of shrubs, a thin young woman struggled against the grip of a broad-shouldered man on her throat. The man grunted a few times from her frail punches as he fumbled with the folds of her dress. Tears flooded her eyes, panic gleaming on her face.
Othello stopped several trees away, his presence hidden by the huge shadow of an oak.
He watched calmly, his eyes indifferent.
'Finally, clothes I can wear,' he thought with a bit of relief.
Below, the man had stripped the girl's dress, leaving only her inner garments. Othello saw this and rubbed his temples.
'Now... how do I get the clothes without either of them seeing my face?'
His thoughts moved fast.
'If I approach from the left, she will see my face.'
'Right isn't an option, but if I approach from behind, she might turn around at the moment of impact.'
His gaze shifted between the man and the struggling woman, calculations forming in his head at speeds that he would have never imagined prior to his transformation. All this led to one conclusion:
There was no way to take the clothes except knocking the both of them out.
'Judging from my recent strength, it should be easy.'
'A moderate impact to the pressure point behind the ear causes unconsciousness for three seconds.
'Non-lethal strike to the cervical base. Time of unconsciousness should be twelve seconds.'
A faint certainty surfaced in his mind, the feeling of a memory clearing up made him blink.
'Memory? But I don't remember learning any of this... could it be the book?'
Othello shook his head slightly, choosing to focus on the now naked lady and the man who had conveniently stripped himself to enjoy his deed.
In the next moment, he moved.
The burly man barely had time to register something landing behind him, and a powerful impact sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. The man's eyes rolled back, his grip on the girl loosening immediately.
The woman felt the change almost immediately. She turned around to see what was happening, but Othello moved faster. A gentle force hit her, causing her to fall into the former 's arms.
'That smell, it's from the slums,' Othello thought to himself as he carefully laid down the lady.
His thoughts didn't fluctuate due to the sight of a defenseless feminine body. It was quite... disappointing.
He let out a sigh and quickly picked up the clothes on the floor, putting them on and dressing the woman quickly. He didn't possess or 'remember' such knowledge, but it was easy for him to reverse engineer the undressing process.
When he was done, he slung the woman's body over his shoulder and continued on his way.
Signs of exiting the forest began to appear in the evening. Trees grew thinner and shorter, the soil became more compacted, and the faint smell of civilization—which was none other than the horrid smell of the slums begin to appear.
Smoke
Stagnant water
Unwashed bodies.
Above him, the redness of the evening sky spread to the shadowy settlement before him, strips of light illuminating a beautiful lie for those who didn't know better.
A quiet, beautiful slum.
As he drew closer, the endless chatter signifying humanity started to reach his ears. Curses, bargains, gossip, arguments, and meaningless chatter.
Somewhere, a child cried. Elsewhere, the sound of drunken laughter erupted before being swallowed by the darkening sky.
He stopped for a moment, then placed the lady on his shoulders in a relatively open space near the entrance to the slums. Taking her in himself would enhance her chances of survival, but would draw unnecessary attention towards him.
He didn't want that.
As Othello placed his foot on the narrow road leading into the slums, the first feeble lanterns flickered into life, heralding the arrival of dusk.
And perhaps...
Something more sinister.