That's right; whether it was the writing in the square or the strange occurrences at the Mayor's house, they were all the handiwork of Jack, Gwof, and the others.
Actually, when Jack was first brooding by the river and about to turn dark, he ran into Ben.
Under Ben's guidance and their kindness...
Jack's descent into darkness failed.
At that time, he gave up the idea of revenge and planned to leave directly.
But he was stopped by Gwof.
Gwof insisted that Jack must take revenge... "Wait."
Gwof suddenly spoke; his voice wasn't loud, but it was like a stone thrown into still water, carrying an unquestionable firmness.
He walked over from the riverbank, the soles of his shoes stained with damp mud, a flat pebble held in his hand as his thumb rubbed the patterns on its surface.
"Just leaving like this?"
"What else?"
Jack gave a self-deprecating smile, the sleeves of his multi-colored clothes fluttering in the wind like a leaf that had lost its strength.
"Surely I'm not supposed to listen to the ghost in my heart and drag those children off to drown?"
As he spoke, his fingertips tightened unconsciously, gripping the flute until it felt slightly warm.
"That's not necessary."
Gwof shook his head, the pebble spinning nimbly between his fingertips with a faint whistling sound.
"But you can't just suffer an injustice for nothing. It's like being stepped on—if you don't say a word, next time someone will spit in your face."
Ben frowned, his brows knitting into a knot; his lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.
He was willing to believe him.
"We are kind; we can resolutely draw our blades for a stranger we've never met, for a small country thousands of miles away being trampled by an evil dragon."
Gwof's gaze swept across the distant mountains, his voice carrying a vast openness.
"Even if we must cross mountains, rivers, and seas, even if we know we might never return, we show no fear—that is the backbone kindness should have, isn't it?"
Jack was stunned for a moment, his fingers instinctively loosening.
He had never thought that "kindness" could be linked with words like "drawing a blade" or "going to one's death"; in his eyes, kindness was forbearance, taking a loss, and the bit of warmth felt when sharing a wheat cake with a stranger.
But Gwof's words were like a seed that suddenly sprouted in his heart.
"But have you ever thought,"
Gwof's voice slowed down a bit, like water flowing over pebbles, yet carrying a power that struck directly at the heart.
"We harbor kindness to protect those worth protecting and to bring more warmth to this world, definitely not so that the world's injustices can be repaid in kind."
He turned to look at Jack, his gaze like tempered iron, becoming exceptionally firm.
"When I didn't know you, if you encountered trouble on the road, I could share half a piece of hard wheat cake with you, help you mend your worn-out bags, and even block hidden arrows for you—that is kindness.
But if someone harms you for no reason, destroys your home, and kills your relatives, are you still going to tuck away that 'kindness' and just turn away?"
Jack's body jolted violently as if struck hard by something; even the old wound on his lower back throbbed with pain.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say "that's what a kind person should do," but the words were blocked by the sharp glint in Gwof's eyes.
Indeed, when his master's leg was broken by local thugs years ago, hadn't he chased them for three streets with a stone in hand? Was that "unkindness" wrong back then?
"Kindness isn't like that,"
Gwof's voice gradually softened, like a spring breeze melting ice, yet it still carried an unquestionable power.
"Revenge doesn't mean you have to drown the children of the entire town."
He curled his finger and lightly tapped the flute in Jack's hand.
"The one who truly needs to pay the price is that greedy Mayor, and his henchmen who helped withhold grain and bully the neighbors.
As for those indifferent onlookers, a small lesson is enough—let them remember that silence is sometimes a sin.
Only then, the next time they see someone using their power to bully others, will they dare to stand up, even if just to say 'this is unfair'."
Standing to the side, Ben's cloudy eyes gradually brightened, like a dusty bronze mirror being wiped clean.
Gwof's words were like a beam of light, suddenly illuminating the blind spots in his understanding—it turned out that true justice wasn't blind concession and forgiveness, but making the evildoers receive their due punishment, allowing the victims to vent their suppressed grievances, and reducing the fertile ground for injustice in this world.
Jack looked up, the light of the setting sun falling exactly on his face, exposing the confusion in his eyes before it was replaced by a firm light.
In that light, there was anger, clarity, and a kind of rediscovered courage.
He looked at Gwof, then at Ben, and saw Ben nod with encouragement in his eyes.
"You're right."
Jack's voice was a bit raspy but exceptionally clear; he nodded slowly, his fingertips gripping the flute again, this time with a steady and resolute force.
"I can't just leave like this. I want to make those who did evil pay the price they deserve."
The wind blew from the river, lifting his multi-colored clothes; this time they no longer looked like a weak leaf, but more like a flag ready for action.
And so, that matter was settled.
Afterward, Jack parted ways with them.
Although Gwof wanted to ask him to stay, he could only hide his thoughts and head toward the capital of Clothes Country.
It was just that... perhaps because the journey had been a bit long, he felt a little tired.
Probably, after visiting that foolish King in Clothes Country, he would go home... and sleep.
However, he didn't expect that on the way to the capital of Clothes Country, he would encounter another fairy tale—Rapunzel... and yet another forest.
Towering ancient trees blotted out the sun, their branches and leaves interlacing to weave a giant green net, sifting the sunlight into fine golden spots scattered on the leaf-covered ground.
The air was filled with the smell of damp earth and the fresh scent of pine needles; occasionally, a Squirrel would "zip" up a tree trunk, sending a few withered leaves rustling down.
Gwof and Liya lay on the back of a gentle gray donkey; the donkey's hooves stepped on the thick fallen leaves, making a soft "shasha" sound like a lullaby.
The Ugly Duckling in Liya's arms was curled into a ball, snoring softly;
Gwof pulled his wide-brimmed hat very low, covering most of his face and only revealing his clearly defined jawline; beneath the brim, a pair of furry wolf ears were gently swaying with the movement of the donkey's back.
Little Bottle walked at the very front holding the donkey's rope, a colored lollipop in his mouth; the syrup trickled down the corner of his mouth, but he didn't care at all, occasionally wiping it haphazardly with his sleeve.
"I say, how much further?"
He spoke indistinctly with the candy in his mouth.
No one answered; Liya was already dozing on the donkey's back, her breathing even;
Gwof had his eyes closed as if he too had fallen asleep.
Ben leaned on a branch he had picked up, following slowly behind.
He stopped from time to time, bending down to look at the footprints on the ground and then up at the shadows of the trees, as if identifying the direction.
"Just walk slowly; treat it as sightseeing."
The group hadn't walked far into the forest when the sunlight was gradually blocked by thicker foliage, and the surroundings darkened a bit.
At that moment, the wolf ears under the brim of Gwof's hat, as he lay on the donkey's back, suddenly twitched.
Those wolf ears were a hundred times more sensitive than a normal person's and could capture the footsteps of a wild rabbit three miles away; now, however, they were drawn by a faint sound—it was singing.
"I count the shapes of clouds, guessing the wind chimes outside."
"Stars fall into my eyes, and I am no longer a lonely island."
"..."
"O wind, blow across the meadow beneath the tower,"
"Take me to see where the stream runs,"
"Hair flying, heart soaring,"
"Even if just for a moment, to touch the distance."
The singing was very light, like the tinkling of a spring in a mountain ravine or the forest wind brushing against harp strings, possessing a clear and pleasant quality.
But listening closely, there was an indescribable loneliness hidden in the melody, like a lost child humming softly; the final notes were drawn out long, with a hint of imperceptible trembling, entangling among the branches and merging with the sound of the wind.
Gwof snapped his eyes open, the gaze beneath his hat becoming sharp.
He listened intently; the singing was coming from behind a misty patch of bushes ahead, intermittent and seemingly far yet near, but it possessed a strange magic that made one unable to resist approaching.
"Did you guys hear that?" Gwof suddenly sat up, the wolf ears under his hat still twitching slightly; clearly, the singing had moved him quite a bit.
Liya was startled awake by the movement, rubbing her bleary eyes, her long eyelashes like two small fans sweeping over the faint dark circles under her eyes.
"Hear what? I only hear the sound of the donkey panting."
The Ugly Duckling in her arms was startled awake and gave a "guji" cry, rubbing its head against her chin.
Little Bottle also stopped, "ptui-ing" out the lollipop stick in his mouth, which rolled twice on the fallen leaves.
He smacked his lips, looking bewildered: "What sound? I only hear the wind."
Gwof's mouth twitched, inwardly cursing "useless devil."
Ben's ears weren't as sensitive as Gwof's, but he also listened intently for a moment, his brows gradually knitting into a knot before he frowned and said:
"It sounds like someone is singing... the tune is quite soft, but this place is deserted, miles from anywhere—how can there be singing?"
The singing continued, the melody as graceful as a mountain bird hopping on a branch, sometimes high and sometimes low, entangling in the mist of the forest with an indescribable ethereal quality.
Could it be Rapunzel?
This thought suddenly popped into Gwof's head.
That Rapunzel locked in the high tower.
Thinking this, his sleepiness vanished instantly, and a curious light appeared in his eyes.
"Come on, let's go see!"
He patted the donkey's back and was the first to jump down, his boots making a soft "pu" sound as they hit the fallen leaves.
Now everyone became curious.
Liya didn't care about dozing anymore, clinging to the donkey's neck and peeking around;
Little Bottle also quickened his pace, excitedly running toward the direction of the singing.
This path was truly difficult to walk.
The bushes in the forest grew wildly and without order, their branches tangling together haphazardly, half a head taller than a person; the dark green leaves had a cold glint on their edges, and only upon closer inspection did one see that the tip of every leaf hid tiny thorns like countless miniature daggers—a slight brush against clothes could cut a thin opening and draw beads of blood.
The accumulated rotting leaves on the ground were thick enough to submerge ankles, making a "puji" sound when stepped on; occasionally, one would kick an unknown hard object, whether the remains of a wild beast or items left behind by Travelers.
However, for Little Bottle, this was nothing at all—after all, he was a native Forest Devil, and these plants could be considered his "old neighbors."
He stood there and, with full confidence, snapped his fingers; a few sparks of ghostly blue fire burst from his fingertips like a mischievous firefly.
Strangely enough, as soon as those sparks hit the ground, the surrounding bushes seemed to come alive, retreating one after another.
The thorny branches were pulled apart as if by invisible hands, the vines automatically coiled upwards, and the originally airtight green wall split open with a "huala" sound, revealing a passage wide enough for two people to walk side by side; the gravel and broken branches on the ground also seemed to have grown legs, rolling to both sides to reveal the flat soil beneath.
"Done!"
Little Bottle clapped his hands.
He proudly tilted his chin at everyone, the corners of his mouth curling up so high they could hold an oil jar.
"How's that? My skill?"
Liya was amused by him and nodded while leaning on the donkey's back: "Impressive!"
The donkey's hooves stepped on the soft rotting leaves, making a soft "shasha" sound like silkworms munching on mulberry leaves, blending wonderfully with the singing coming from the distance.
The singing was sometimes high and sometimes low, entangling among the branches on both sides of the passage; even the bushes that had retreated to the sides seemed much quieter, their leaves swaying gently as if listening intently.
The mist at the end of the passage grew thicker, and the singing became clearer, as if an invisible hand were leading them toward that mysterious high tower.
After walking for about three minutes, the mist ahead gradually dispersed, and the singing became even clearer.
Everyone pushed aside the last hanging vine and looked ahead, and they were all stunned—
In the clearing surrounded by trees ahead, a high tower stood tall.
The tower was built of bluish-gray giant stones, with ancient moss accumulated in the gaps between the stones, exuding a desolate coolness.
The entire tower seemed to have grown directly from the ground, extending straight up until it was wrapped and entangled by thick ivy; the dark green vines were like countless arms tightly embracing the tower, with scattered small purple flowers blooming among them—the petals were as thin as butterfly wings, trembling gently in the wind, adding a bit of life to this cold stone tower.
The top of the tower was pointed, like it was wearing a steeple hat, piercing into the sky and almost poking through the clouds overhead.
Most strangely, from the bottom to the top of the tower, not a single door or window could be seen; the smooth stone walls were covered by vines, fitting together as tightly as a sealed stone box.
The singing was coming from the top of the tower; the graceful melody sounded even more lonely now, like a skylark trapped at the peak, its wings tied by invisible threads, wanting to fly but unable to go high, only able to chant over and over to the empty forest; the singing hit the tower walls and bounced back with an echo, making one's heart tighten.
Gwof stared at the high tower, secretly excited—this scene was likely that Rapunzel.
"This... such a high tower?"
Liya leaned on the donkey's back, craning her neck to look up until her neck was almost sore, her eyes wide.
"There couldn't... there couldn't be a princess, right?"
As she spoke, she laughed at her own unrealistic imagination.
But Little Bottle didn't care about any of that; he stuffed the donkey's rope into Gwof's hand and rubbed his hands together, about to rush forward, his toes kicking up a breeze as they touched the ground: "Let's try shouting first!"
He took a deep breath and shouted toward the top of the tower: "Hey—is anyone up there?"
The voice exploded in the empty forest like a stone thrown into a deep pool, rippling with layers of echoes and startling several birds on the treetops into flight, their wings cutting through the air and leaving behind a string of hurried chirps.
The singing at the top of the tower suddenly stopped, coming to an abrupt end like a kite with a snapped string.
The vines entangled at the peak seemed to stiffen for a moment, and the small purple flowers closed slightly as if startled by the shout.
Silence filled the air for a moment, and even the wind seemed to stop.
The next second, a clear female voice came from the top of the tower, like spring water from a mountain ravine dripping onto jade, but with a bit of timid doubt and a few hints of imperceptible trembling:
"Who... who is down there?"