The Orphan Collector の小説・ストーリー

I don't! Accepting this harsh reality that Orni is no more I left the city. I came to a small town and built an art gallery here. Whatever I earn now, I donate to orphanages. I don't feel anything for money. There is no greed for money in me anymore. Whom should I earn this money for? Orni wanted me to be a good human being. A true gentleman. I still remember the day when she requested me to fulfil this wish of her. She wanted me to be a gentleman who respects every human being. Specifically, women. That's what I am trying to do.

It wasn't until I got my memories back a month ago, and until he threw me into the blizzard last night, that I finally woke up. I wasn't some unwanted orphan. I had the most loving family in the world, and they had been searching for me like crazy. "Your Highness..." The Chief Healer knelt respectfully by the bed, his voice trembling slightly. "Your inner wolf is severely damaged. I need to examine your body to see if there are any unhealed fatal wounds..." My mother wiped her tears and carefully undid my frozen cashmere sweater. The moment the collar opened, dead silence fell over the room.

They took loans bigger than their balls and gambled it all down till there's nothing but their shriveling flesh left to offer, when the time came to pay up. Then they begin to beg, cry, whine for their pathetic lives. It's always so fucking ugly that I wanted to grab their neck and snap it every time they did, so they never utter a sound again. Or better yet, rip out their vocal cord from their mouth. I was here to collect. As per usual. It was my job. I even earned a nickname for it. The Debt Collector. Or for short, The Collector. Under the command of my master I visit whom I'm told to visit to collect the debt owed when it's due. And when it’s not met, well, you know the drill.

They wore a dark cloak that obscured their features, and in their hands, they held a staff that pulsed with sickly green light. "There you are," the figure said, their voice neither male nor female but ancient and cold. "The last Silvercrest. Come with me peacefully, and I will call off the attack. Resist, and everyone here dies." Korra stood slowly, the pendant burning hot against her skin. "Who are you?" "I am the Collector," they said simply. "And I have been searching for you for a very long time." The staff pulsed brighter, and suddenly, Korra couldn't move. Magic wrapped around her like invisible chains, pulling her forward step by step.

“Perhaps you can give some insight into our current plight. What do you know of the Collectors?” Romani’s eyes darkened. “I know them well. An unfortunate side effect of traveling in the Shadow World.” He took a deep breath and continued. “The Collectors are an abomination. Their magic feeds off of life itself. The more they use their abilities, the more their corporeal form fails them.” Vanessa thought back to the rotted chunks of flesh and bone that seemed to cover each Collector. “Eventually they all fall to the Veil. They remain trapped there, suffering in endless agony as they rot for all eternity but never die.”

instinct to return to the source. From the fog, a single, black ship emerged. It didn't have a flag. It didn't have a name. At the bow stood Silas Vane, holding a staff tipped with a glowing obsidian shard. "Rose," his voice echoed across the water, amplified by the drones. "The nursery is full. It’s time to pay the rent." The Sanctuary was no longer a refuge; it was a trap. The Siren frequency was holding the children in a trance, drawing them toward the beach where Vane’s "Collectors" were waiting with silver nets and sedative harpoons.

“You’ve made a fatal mistake‚ little wolf. That power is mine.” Sharon’s blood iced over. Jake moved in front of her‚ every muscle coiled to spring. “Who are you?” he demanded. The creature’s lips peeled back to reveal fangs like ivory blades. “I’m the Collector‚” it growled. “And I’ve come for what’s mine.” Deep inside‚ Sharon knew this was only the beginning of the nightmare.

My steps halted before entering, my eyes widened as my mouth hanged opened “An orphanage. “Hello, welcome to the crystal orphanage, do you wish to see how we operate or are you here to donate?” An old woman smiled at me wearing a scarf, my eyes look for Adrian who is already disappeared, apparently, the woman senses the distress on my face “Are you looking to meet,sir I mean Mr Adrian.” she says.

That help is waiting. The contract is written in elaborate script, the words flowing across the parchment in what definitely looks like dried blood. I scan the terms, my stomach sinking with each line. *The Bearer of this Contract, hereafter referred to as "The Collected," does willingly and without coercion bind herself to The Collector for the duration of her natural life.* *The Collected agrees to:* *- Serve The Collector in all matters relating to the acquisition and maintenance of supernatural artifacts* *- Use her bloodline, abilities, and curse fragments for The Collector's benefit*

Two words are written in a surprisingly neat cursive center in the paper. Stop him. "Seems as though the Luna knows she's let a disease infest her pack," Kennedy reads the note over my shoulder. He continues to read the rest out of the note aloud, "Packs and Rogues are not the only things he's Collecting...why did she capitalize that word?" "The Collected...he has a collection of souls that he uses," I saw them once in my vision. When he had Marked me... "I don't know exactly what they are. My ancestor, Zemira, might. She has similar powers to Orion."