Chapter 9 : Ugly eight years old (5)

To me, the Hero seems like a pretty weird guy.
No, I don’t mean just how he is now.

“…Hmph.”

Come to think of it, he’s still weird now, but the problem might be that I’ve gotten used to his oddities.

Anyway.
Before the departure ceremony, back then, the Hero used to skip the Empire’s knight training often.
The reason was something like…

“Those knights are so weak that just breathing near them gives me muscle loss. I’m heading to my usual training gym.”

He’d say stuff like that, leave the palace, and return around evening.
Crazy bas—
No, I mean.

So, he’d go out, come back in the evening, and always tell me about what happened outside.
Things like, “Hmm, the street food was pretty good today. They sell stuff packed with protein—shows they know what’s up. I’ll get you some next time,” while eating something weird-looking.
Or, “People keep running away scared when they see me. Do I look that frightening? I wasn’t even threatening them,” said by a hulking, intimidating man over two meters tall, sounding like a total idiot.
Stuff like that.

But one day, he told a particularly unusual story.
“I was running late, so I cut through an alley and saw ashen hair.”
“What…? In the heart of the Empire?”
“Yeah. Felt uneasy, so I approached to kill it.”
“No, you can’t just kill someone because they’re ashen…”

Life is precious.
Even if they’re ashen, they’re still one of God’s creations.

“I didn’t kill her. It was a frail little girl, barely clinging to life. Didn’t seem like she’d survive the winter, so I left her be.”
“Hmm… I see.”
“Like you always say, if she’s got some divine grace, maybe she’ll survive. If she becomes a calamity, I’ll kill her then.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“So, don’t slack off and train. Lugging around that fat and just eating will give you muscle loss.”

Watching him head back to his quarters, I thought:
What the hell is this guy?
Or rather, I almost did.

Recalling those memories with a chuckle, a voice comes from behind.
“Lua, stop giggling and sleep. If you don’t sleep on time, you’ll get muscle loss.”
“Yes, Hero.”

Yup, the Hero’s still a weird bastard.

• [Excerpt from Episode □□. The Saintess’s Gossip]

Winter is approaching.
With it, the end of my eighth year comes into view.
As if riding the novel’s flow, the days remain calm and peaceful, stretching into winter.

Word is, the Hero and Saintess’s training will wrap up in about two years.
That means their departure ceremony will happen then, and I want to witness it up close.
Unlike when I was five, barely catching glimpses from afar, I don’t want to miss it this time.

As I’m thinking this, a booming voice calls from behind.
“Ain! You rascal, stop daydreaming and get ready! You’re the one who asked for more money!”
“Uncle… You’re gonna make me deaf.”
“I called you three times, three! Take this basket and make the delivery, you brat!”

Ugh, I’ll go deaf at this age.
Wincing, I grab the basket he hands me and step out of the shop at his urging.
After slamming the door shut, I mutter softly.
“…What a harsh world.”

• I heard that, you little punk!
  “…I didn’t say anything.”

No, seriously.
My ears are about to give out, but this old man’s hearing is sharp as ever.
Thinking this, I start walking.

Grocery delivery.
It wasn’t a thing before, but I suggested it to the uncle to earn a bit more.
For a small fee of 10 dera per delivery, the shop brings your groceries right to your door.
The split’s 8:2, with me taking the 8, obviously.

Since we don’t need two people in the shop during slow hours, I organize the orders and deliver them myself when it’s quiet.
The shop mostly serves locals, and the fee’s low, so busy mothers use it often.
Thank you, thank you.
I’ll save every bit for my future travels, dear ladies.
I’ll keep up the cute act and charm.

So, here I am, out for another delivery.
“The address… Oh.”

No matter how I look at it, it’s my house.
Mom, please, don’t do this.
With that thought, I trudge toward home.
My steps feel miserably heavy.

Right.
I’m not an ungrateful son, but there’s one reason I dread Mom’s delivery orders.
“Oh, the delivery’s here~ Thanks for your hard work~”
“…Grocery delivery.”

When I run into her while working, Mom treats me like an actual delivery boy.
Separating work and personal life is great, but Mom has her reasons for being so strict about it.

“Haha~ Must’ve been tough coming all this way. Want a cool drink?”
“No, I’ve got to go. Bye…”
“Hey, you can’t just leave! You’ve got to do everything properly!”
“…Mom, why are you like this?”

Her playful, expectant face.
Waiting for me to do something.
It’s downright diabolical.

“Mom? I’m just a customer! Come on, hurry up!”
“….”
“Tick-tock! Time’s running out!”

She’s right—time’s short.
I’ve got another delivery, so I can’t waste it here.
So, I flash a fake kid’s smile, bow deeply, and say,
“Thank you! Please, please order again!!”
“Hahaha! Bye~”

I bolt out before her laughter even stops.
“….”
Embarrassing.
Humiliating.
I’m gonna die like this.

By evening, as the shop’s closing, I’m still running deliveries back and forth.
“Kid! Head home early today!”
“Huh? But I should stay till closing.”
“I’ll handle it, so take this and go, you brat!”

He tosses me food—stir-fried meat and vegetables, leftovers from today’s sales.
What’s this?
Giving me food now feels super suspicious.
Is he planning to cut my pay because I’m costing him too much?

“…You’re not docking my pay for not closing, right?”
“Argh! Are you possessed by a money ghost?! I’m not docking you, so take this and go check on that mutt you’re so fond of! I’m being nice, and you’re whining! Get out of my shop!!”
“Well, I’m not that fond of it, but okay, I’ll head out.”

What a great uncle.
Nodding, I start to leave but glance back at him.
“What now?”
“Since you’re giving me this, can I take that old mat from the storage?”

With your grand generosity, feeding a stray dog and all, maybe you could spare an unused mat for the winter.
I flash a grin, and—
“…This kid’s lost it.”

I get kicked out.
With the mat in hand, of course.
Gruff but kind uncle.

It’s twilight, the sun not fully set.
With the sunset at my back, I carry today’s food and a thick mat toward the alley.
It’s chilly enough that my breath fogs when I exhale.

Living outside in this weather, especially in the coming winter, seems impossible, but there’s nowhere for her to stay.
Given the stigma against the ashen, no one would take her in.
Not even our house or the shop would.

So, maybe besides this mat, I should find some wooden planks to build a wind-blocking shelter.
“….”
Would that be too much like a doghouse?
Pondering this, I keep walking.

The path’s become familiar, my steps as light as when heading home.
At this hour, kids are indoors, so there’s no chance of a fight like last time.
Come to think of it, some kids still come during the day to bully her and throw stones. I should suggest she move somewhere else.
If she relocates, she might avoid harassment for a few months.

Since adults, wary of the ashen curse, don’t touch her, dodging kids’ attention should be enough.
Yeah, not a bad idea.
With that thought, I turn into her alley, and as expected, she’s there alone—or should be.
But a massive figure looms before her.

Wearing a robe that barely covers their frame, holding a greatsword as tall as a person.
They approach her slowly.

My heart pounds wildly at the sight.
Even under the robe, I know.
There’s an unmistakable aura of intimidation.
You don’t see someone that huge every day.

It’s the Hero.
The novel’s protagonist, the eye of the storm, wielding his sword at its center, is here.

Tick.
Tick.

The scales of fate, destined to lead to the witch’s death, tip sharply.

I should run.
That’s the obvious choice.
But—

“Huff, hah… Hngh, hgh…!”

Before I know it, I’ve dropped everything and thrown myself between them.
Shielding the girl behind me, I glare at the Hero.
My trembling hands spread wide, I snarl with the fiercest face I can muster.

“….”

His gaze, staring down at me, is too ferocious to call benevolent.
The greatsword in his hand rises slowly, clear in my vision.
Tears stream down my face as I brace for death, arms still outstretched.

“Do you know what you’re protecting?”

I know.
I’ve known since I was younger.
So—

“…Don’t come closer.”

Honestly, I don’t even understand why I’m doing this.
Is it a shred of pity or guilt? Or a calculated move for some gain?
I can’t pin it down, but if I had to say, it’s this:

The role I gave myself.
The choice I made after being pushed to decide.
To fulfill the responsibility of stepping into the story as the witch’s watcher.

How much time passes?

“Ha.”

The Hero lets out a hollow laugh, sheathing his greatsword on his back.
He looks straight at me and says,
“You’re a man.”
“….”

F*ck, what else would I be?
You damn Hero bastard.

Still trembling, I stand my ground. He picks up the food and mat I dropped and hands them to me.
“That’s how you protect. Something precious.”
“….”

It’s not precious.
My life’s the most precious thing.
More than some witch staring blankly behind me.

Unable to voice those thoughts, I keep my arms spread, blocking her, until the Hero’s massive back fades into the distance.

I’m not going to that departure ceremony.
Damn bastard.

One winter day.
The Hero, as usual, returns late.
“Hmm, muscle loss.”

Saying that, he approaches and stares at me blankly—now a daily routine.
“Is there something you want to say?”
“I was running late, so I cut through an alley and saw ashen hair.”
“What…? In the heart of the Empire?”
“Yeah. Felt uneasy, so I approached to kill it.”
“No, you can’t just kill someone because they’re ashen…”

Life is precious.
Even if they’re ashen, they’re God’s creation.
I glare at him, but he shakes his head.

“I couldn’t kill her. I was approaching with my sword, but some man blocked my way.”
“What…? Someone in the Empire could stop you?”

Someone who could stop the divinely chosen Hero?
They should join our journey.

“There was. Thinking back, he was impressive. No one’s ever radiated such fierce intent toward me.”
“If they’re that remarkable, we should convince them to join us…”
“No. He wasn’t the type to be swayed. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”

Thinking of that person, the Hero flashes an uncharacteristic smile.
As I stare, he reverts to his stoic face and tosses out,
“Don’t slack off and train. Lugging around that fat, eating that bread? That’s all muscle loss.”

Watching him head to his quarters, I think:
What the hell is this guy?
Or rather, I almost do.