Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: White Crow Unit ― Richard (1)
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The world is cruel.
The strong exploit the weak, and the weak scorn those even weaker than themselves.
Richard had grasped this truth, dimly, from a very young age.
Someone had gifted his parents— who ran a small general store— some precious fruit.
Even Richard, their only son, had never laid a hand on it before it ended up in the mouth of the factory manager's son, who supplied their goods.
That boy would come by the shop time and again, taking expensive toys or snacks as if picking up a package left for him.
The terrifying schoolteacher who took pleasure in beating the children was dragged away by Ossel.
A few months later, Richard spotted him in the neighboring village. The man was crawling on the ground, limbs broken, reduced to a half-cripple, mumbling unintelligible sounds.
The local thug kicked to death the puppy Richard had been raising.
Richard lunged at him and ended up beaten to a bloody pulp, sobbing as he limped home.
His timid parents trembled and scolded him never to do such a thing again. The thug was the son of a notoriously corrupt cop, after all.
The next day, that cop showed up at Richard's house with a new puppy. One of their bitch's pups, he said. He looked down arrogantly at Richard's parents as they fawned over him in terror.
Late that night, as Richard applied salve to his wounds alone, he thought.
I'm weak.
I survived because I'm weak.
If I'd been strong— if I'd torn that bastard apart like I wanted— not just me, but Mom and Dad would have faced retaliation too.
Richard raised the puppy with utmost care.
Every morning, he leashed it and took it for walks along the road in front of the police station.
Occasionally, a cop on his way to work would pat his head.
The boy with platinum blond hair like cotton candy and a gentle face would beam with feigned delight.
His parents were relieved.
The dog lived for 11 years.
It wheezed its last on the day Richard received his acceptance letter to medical school.
The platinum-haired young man shouldered the dog's corpse in the dead of night and secretly buried it in the police station's back yard.
As he dug up the earth, he thought this was the best burial spot.
Just returning what was given.
Over those 11 years, Richard had changed.
The lively, bouncy energy of childhood had mellowed considerably, and his presence had grown subdued in turn. The sharp glint in his eyes now appeared merely kind.
A good-natured, faintly impressionable face.
An easygoing aura that made anyone feel they could approach without hesitation.
The perfect, utterly ordinary and unremarkable person.
The world is ruled by the strong.
But even the weak have their own ways to survive.
Richard always wore a soft smile.
He treated everyone kindly with that harmless grin and defused fights with gentle words.
He never refused a request for help, and when someone poured out their troubles, he offered warm comfort while serving strictly as an emotional trash bin.
He studied diligently and exercised just enough to stay healthy.
He never stepped forward first, but when called upon, he didn't dodge with excuses either. Whatever task was assigned, he carried it out quietly and competently.
That was how Richard avoided being hated.
However, it also meant he could never be truly loved.
His gentle looks and affable demeanor drew people in droves.
But after a few months, a few years, they all gradually drifted away.
No— less "drifted" and more "lost interest." Whether friendship or romance.
He seems off somehow despite appearances. He never opens up. Always says the nice things; he's boring. No real friends, just shallow connections.
The gossip was rampant behind his back.
Those who hadn't known him long dismissed it as envy or jealousy with a laugh, while those who had nodded in agreement— it all rang true.
Richard had his own retorts.
Didn't you all project your expectations onto me? I never gave any signals. You're the ones who poured affection into me and expected payback.
But he never voiced them. He knew it would be pointless.
He just smiled mildly.
These incidents repeated endlessly, wearing him down. But he couldn't stop. If anything, he refined his fake smile further, making it undetectable.
Richard's mask grew thicker by the day.
By the time he entered medical school, no one doubted his sincerity anymore.
Just a quiet kid who did his duties and was nice.
Staying right there kept him out of trouble.
He was content with that life, diligently attending classes through an early winter day.
That's when he met Erika.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Richard stood in front of the massive hotel he'd seen every evening from the streetcar window on his way home from school.
Over 20 stories tall, dazzling lights. Flowers lavishly arranged.
A grand charity gala was underway in the hotel lobby, and his professor— who doted on him— had foisted the invitation on him, claiming he was too busy.
This wasn't his first fancy party.
His easy likability had let him befriend rich heirs and heiresses, earning invites to their birthdays or whatever occasions they wanted to flaunt.
But stepping into a social event for the elite, packed with so many people? This was a first.
Famous actors, military generals, businessmen, professors, journalists.
He wasn't thrilled.
What a hassle...
To avoid disappointing his professor, he massaged the muscles around his mouth into relaxation and entered the venue.
Eat some good food, make a few meaningless introductions, kill time, then leave. That was the plan.
The hall was packed.
Beneath sparkling crystal chandeliers, a charity auction of attendees' cherished items was in full swing.
The enormous proceeds from the sales would go to aid the poor.
It had started in the revolutionary government days, when a turbulent economy flooded the streets with unemployed masses that meager budgets couldn't handle, so such galas were encouraged.
These days, it had devolved into an event for the upper crust to flaunt superiority and network.
Boring.
Richard sat in a corner chair, nibbling grapes from a golden tray while watching the nearly concluded auction.
The soft, sweet juice stained his tongue.
The rare fruit he'd craved as a child, stolen by the factory manager's son— the one that first taught him loss and deprivation.
If only he'd known he could have it so casually now.
Then maybe...
"360,000 felt! Going once? To Mr. Braithner with the highest bid!"
The emcee shouted cheerfully from the distant podium. A portly middle-aged man accepted an actress's dress and joked good-naturedly.
"This'll get me in hot water with the wife again."
The crowd roared with laughter.
He'd heard the Braithner name in rumors. President of a textile factory rising fast.
"...Disgusting."
A voice pierced his ears vividly.
He whipped his head around reflexively. Leaning against the wall in a navy dress was a girl who looked just like President Braithner— but with a cold, hardened expression unlike his jovial grin.
Disgusting?
Had he misheard?
Oh no.
Having stared too long, the girl sensed it and glanced down at him imperiously.
What are you looking at?
Richard flashed a soft smile on reflex and extended a hand in the refined manner of high society he'd picked up.
"Richard Enke."
The girl hesitated reluctantly before taking it.
"Erika Braithner."
"Ah, President Braithner's...?"
"Yes."
Erika gave a curt reply. Then silence fell between them.
As they stood awkwardly, heavy footsteps approached.
"Don't tell that man what I said earlier."
Erika whispered almost inaudibly, straightening her dress.
"Having fun, dear?"
"Father."
President Braithner handed his daughter the actress's dress.
"This would look good on you. Suits you perfectly. Oh, and who's this gentleman?"
Richard bowed slightly.
"Richard Enke. I attend Rudelheim Medical University."
"Oh!"
The president exclaimed theatrically and shook his hand.
"Emmett Braithner. Rudelheim Med School? Elite of the elite! But even a top school wouldn't invite a mere student, would they?"
As he tilted his head, Richard added politely.
"Professor Bauer sent me in his place due to a conference."
"Ah, Bauer I know well. Aiming for surgeon, are you?"
"Yes."
"Trained under Bauer? You'll be top-notch, then. Speaking of— I twisted my ankle coming in. Could you take a look?"
An awkward request. Erika openly grimaced beside him.
A businessman who's climbed that high, yet so brazen and lacking manners.
But it didn't feel malicious or meant to humiliate. Maybe this cheerfulness was his edge in business.
He started to say he was only a first-year with shallow knowledge, but his well-honed social mask stopped him.
"Please rest your leg here, then."
Richard sat in a chair and positioned himself. He palpated the president's bare foot on his thigh, then applied pressure to the ankle.
Crack!
A short sound, and the misaligned bone clicked back into place. The president burst into surprised laughter.
"Hahaha! Incredible! Not a twinge of pain!"
He hopped around childishly in delight. Richard wiped his hands with a napkin, muttering inwardly that this wasn't a chiropractor's office— but leaving a good impression was a win.
That day, President Braithner took a liking to him and asked if he'd tutor Erika for college entrance— with generous pay.
For Richard, saving for a private practice after graduation? No reason to refuse.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Richard visited the Braithner mansion twice a week.
That's how he learned the household was desolate and barren beneath its facade.
On a day of pouring rain, he'd called to say he'd be late but arrived early instead.
Heading to Erika's room, he froze at the sound of ripping fabric.
Through the slightly ajar door, he saw her tearing and cutting the dress from the charity gala.
She whipped her head around, sensing him.
"Gonna tell Father?"
Richard nodded faintly and entered.
"I don't care what the young lady does. I'm just the tutor."
"Good."
Erika rubbed her eyes.
"As long as you're not the watchdog he sent."
"Why would I be."
"Then why stick around this house."
Suddenly, a tear dropped from Erika's eye.
"You get it by now. How twisted it is. Why stay?"
"Because a job was offered—"
"Aren't you curious? Why I rip these expensive clothes. Why I hate Dad. Why doesn't anyone— anyone— care to ask?!"
Erika burst into wrenching sobs.
The passion, sorrow, and shame of a 16-year-old girl poured out raw.
Richard soothed her quietly until the tears subsided.
He realized then: beneath her icy exterior burned a dangerous flame.
He noticed she was falling for him too— the only one who truly listened.
He was merely fulfilling his usual role as emotional trash bin.
He pretended not to notice it all.
But five years later.
After safely entering university, Erika abruptly extended a hand, pulling him into the swamp: the White Crow Unit, an anti-regime group.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Richard didn't regret it.
A life lived to avoid disappointing others.
He'd entered med school as his parents wished.
He had no interest in their talk of doctors always being in demand, good for earning a living.
He joined the White Crow Unit following Erika.
He harbored some discontent with Krüger, but not enough to spark a revolution. Still, to avoid disappointing the members, he participated just enough— moderately.
And yet, it left him disillusioned.
You've been looking down on us. Treating us like kids playing secret society from the start— it was obvious.
When Erika snapped at Lucas Redan, Richard alone gave a wry smile.
Yeah, it was all just a game.
He'd known Erika saw through his mask. Teenage girls were honest with their feelings.
What puzzled him was that she kept treating him as a friend anyway.
That ends now, too.
Richard thought, fiddling with Erika's medical records.
No regrets.
Just a faint pang of regret.
Knock knock knock!
The nurse rapped on the door.
"Doctor, a letter from President Braithner."
It was a party invitation.