Chapter 8 : Ugly eight years old (4)

A month has passed since I became an employee at the grocery store.

Every morning, I wake up, head to the shop, and before the uncle arrives, I clean the interior and restock empty shelves.
I memorize the prices and quantities of goods, the inventory stacked in the storage.
During busy hours, I sit at the counter, greeting countless mothers.
I even brew tea for the surprisingly hardworking uncle.
That’s how a whole month of diligent work has flown by.

Oh.
Ohh…
A long stretch of humiliation (shame) and oppression (the mothers’ affection)… I’m sick of that tea.
Now, it’s time to settle my pay as a proper employee.

“Uncle.”
“…Hrm. This can’t be right.”

The sales doubled compared to last month.
And that’s probably because of…
My all-out performance of cuteness and charm, the childlike smile I forced under capitalism’s heel, the head I offered for pats while giggling.
It’s fair to say that’s the price paid.

Recalling that grim past, I speak to the uncle.
“But it is right. Remember our bet? Hmm, I think you said you’d give a percentage of the sales.”
“Hey, you rascal! I never said that much! Just how much are you trying to squeeze out of me?!”

Tch, he’s not falling for it.
Anyway, I grin and hold out both hands toward him.
“Give me lots, my salary.”
“Hmph…! A deal’s a deal, so no helping it! Fine, I lost the bet, so I’ll make it generous!”

The uncle nods reluctantly and thrusts a money pouch at me.
“Wow, thanks!”
“You cunning little… Normally, you barely smile, but with those ladies, you were downright ruthless…”

Ignoring his muttering, I excitedly count the contents of the pouch.
1000 dera… then 2000 dera.
Good, my base salary’s there.
So, the bonus is 3000 dera… over 4000 dera…

“…?”
What’s this?
Why’s it not ending?

The seemingly endless amount only stops after I count another 1000 dera.
“5000 dera seems like a bit much, uncle…?”

Honestly, I didn’t expect more than double my initial salary.
“You did better than I thought, kid, so I packed in extra this time. I knew you were sharp, but I didn’t expect you to outdo most adults. So, giving you this much still leaves me ahead!”
“….”

Staring up at him, surprised by the hefty sum, he laughs heartily, saying he’s profiting by hiring a kid this capable so cheaply.
“But don’t expect this every time, you rascal! This is just for your first paycheck!”
“…Thank you.”

Weird uncle.
Weird guy.
I think this as he ruffles my hair vigorously.

Anyway.
After settling my pay, I place exactly 500 dera back on the counter with a thud.
“Hm? What’s this? No need to return it just because it’s a lot.”
“Not returning it. Give me 500 dera’s worth of food each month. Stuff that doesn’t need cooking and lasts long.”
“Haha! You thoughtful kid, trying to help Lane out!”
“No, it’s for a poor dog in the alley.”
“?”
“What?”
“Haha! You unthoughtful kid! Never thinking of your mom, huh!”
“….”

He looks at me, appalled, but I just shrug it off.
Well, Mom’s fine without it.
“Oh, and please make it cheap with an employee discount.”
“Well, look at you, trying to bleed me dry!”
“With your size, uncle, you’ve got plenty of liver to spare.”

He’s even bigger than Dad, who I called bear-like, so his liver’s probably huge too.
Big enough that a kid taking a bit won’t hurt.
Thinking this, I stick out my tongue despite my blank face.

The uncle, seeing this, looks exasperated and finally pulls out my sore spot.
“Ha, I don’t get how a kid like you acts so cutesy with the ladies. Fine! If you want it that bad, show me some charm too! Then I’ll make it cheap!”
“….”

Argh!
Damn it, stop bringing that up!
I’ll have to keep acting like a kid this month, next month, next year, and the year after until I’m not a kid anymore.

Glaring at him, he grins and says,
“Don’t wanna? Then pay full price.”
And my body starts bouncing reflexively.

Money.
Gotta save it.
No choice.
Yup.

As the afternoon edges toward evening, one hand holds jerky and other long-lasting food from the uncle, while the other carries ointment, bandages, and disinfectant cotton I charmed the nearby pharmacy into selling me cheap.
“….”

Life’s tough.
It’s a harsh world to scrape by in.

To sum it up:
Harsh world or not, I grip the items tightly and head away from home.
Unlike my hesitant steps a month ago, there’s no reluctance now.

Using the excuse of no money, I bought a month to think things over calmly.
I’m going to help the ashen girl.
I won’t let her eat rotten food or suffer from festering wounds.
I want to fix her slurred speech, never taught properly, and if possible, help her work and earn money herself.

This is pity.
It’s the human heart and emotions I have.
And it’s calculated.
A rational choice to ensure she doesn’t become a calamity that harms my parents.

By helping her adjust to society, letting her slip into people’s lives, she might realize the value of an ordinary life.
Only then will my role end before I become an adult.
The self-assigned role of the witch’s watcher lasts until I’m sixteen, when I take on a new role as an adult.

So.
“Long time no see.”

I enter the alley, look down at her, and say this.
“Ah…”

Her voice is still cracked, but she responds faster than before. I nod impassively.
It’s been a month, but we’re not close enough to ask about each other’s lives.
Even if we were, there’s nothing to ask.
I’ve lived normally, and she’s struggled as always.

A new scar on her forehead whispers pain, and blood from an unhealed wound on her arm trickles like tears as I approach.
“….”

I don’t know the words or actions to comfort such a state.
I’ve never met someone in this condition before.
But I approach with the medical supplies in hand.

Indifferently, I press disinfectant cotton to her dirty wounds.
“….”
“….”

It must hurt, but she just stares at me blankly.
Ignoring her gaze, I clean the wounds, apply ointment, and put on bandages.
I repeat this process slowly for each wound.

Then, quietly, I say to her, still watching me,
“When I’m not here, you do this yourself. Got it?”
“….”

No answer, but her head nods slightly up and down.
I look at her briefly, then hand her the jerky and other food.
“…Eat this when you’re hungry. Don’t dig through trash.”

I brought enough for about a month, all long-lasting, so no worry about spoilage.
I plan to visit once a month to give her more.
With today’s meeting done, I stand to leave.
As always, I turn away from the ashen girl.

And a voice comes again.
“…Next, time.”

Still slurred, still cracked, her voice reaches me.
“Come… again…”

She echoes my words.
The vague promise I made a month ago, she now repeats.
It feels like she’s whispering for me to turn back, making it impossible to ignore.
If I choose not to look back, the future blurs hazily.

I stop, turn, and face her again.
“…Yeah.”

I answer, staring at her for a while.

Looking at the ashen girl, a thought strikes me.
I’ll break free from the novel’s center.
I’m just an extra with no role, so I’ll make it happen.

But you.
Assigned the role of the witch who’ll destroy the Empire—what do you want to do?

I silently ask her this.
Like I rolled the dice.
Roll yours too.
Make your choice.