The Boy of Steel (1) <Side: Trike Steel>

A certain day, the boy fell into the world.

Unfamiliar with the ways of the world, the boy wandered through its harshness without knowing the names or faces of the parents who had birthed him. A life devoid of even the slightest love or pity swiftly stained the boy's pristine, blank-canvas heart with mud.

With his spirit broken, the boy failed to awaken his talents, left with only one burning obsession: the will to survive. Because burying his face in the mud would fill his throat and kill him.

Thus, to live, the boy did anything. Of course, a boy who had scraped by in an unjust life couldn't survive through righteous means. He stole to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠live, sold or bartered the stolen goods for money to buy food. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠For the uneducated, misguided boy, that was the law of the world—his lifeline.

Leveraging his small frame, he slipped into crowds, pilfering coins and items from pockets. Guilt? He felt none. By this point, his heart was worn beyond repair, devoid of such human sentiments. He harbored no anger toward those who hadn't helped him. He simply... grieved if he failed to steal enough for a meal that day, and rejoiced if he could eat.

If caught ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stealing, he was beaten half to death. But that was it. He'd endure, vowing to be more careful next time. His battered, swollen, bleeding body grew tougher by the day. The boy took pride in his steel-like resilience.

Yet something trivial pierced his arrogance and put an end to it.

As usual, blending into the crowd to steal, he slipped his hand into a man's pocket. In that instant, sensation vanished from his left hand, and heaviness rapidly spread from his left arm through his body.

The boy, who prided himself on his pain tolerance, watched in horror as his cherished steel arm turned against him. For the first time, he felt true panic.

Unable to bear the weight, he collapsed into the street. The arm's immense mass cracked the pavement; even crawling was impossible. Its smooth steel surface reflected his sweat-drenched face.

Still in disbelief, he caressed the steel arm with his remaining right hand. He'd only touched steel in scrap metal sculptures or daggers he'd stolen. It felt the same.

The man smirked at the cowering boy. "Pay for your thievery." Bandages wrapped tightly around the man, he dropped a crystal into the boy's hand and vanished with final words.

The price for a lifetime of sins was far too heavy for the boy. He could survive without a wrist, eat without a tongue. But a steel-heavy arm...? He grasped his fate instantly. I'm done for. No way to break it...

Already burdened by sins, he'd stolen not just from commoners but fellow alley comrades too—saved only by his nimbleness.

Clutching the crystal, his left arm moved as if by magic. He flexed fingers, bent elbow, flipped palm. It was his hand, yet not his—steel alien to him. Three days. Avoid the comrades lurking in alleys to punish his crimes. No choices. No time for despair.

The emotionally numb boy shook off melancholy and rose. Dying without trying terrified him, but that was all. Had his mind turned steel too? He staggered into the alley shadows.

Never show weakness. That was his survival instinct from the lawless urban underbelly. Rags wrapped his arm, he lurked in shadows, seeking a cure.

Priest? No—faithless hypocrites. Adventurer? Never—pleasure-killers of vagrants. Guards? Dumb brutes, per comrades. Mage...? Yeah, someone that powerful might carry curse-lifting items.

This is the story of a certain boy. And of his fateful reunion with the mage who saved him.

* * *

Rachel's threat. She ripped out my steel arm effortlessly, declaring coldly with a smile. Unignorable. Speaking truth endangers not just me, but those around—especially Heri-sama.

"Huu..." Lost in worries, I reached the Guild's back door. Heri-sama registered me as staff, but secret tasks required back-door returns. Her magic sealed it to authorized personnel only.

--Creak... It opened automatically as I approached. Up the stairs beyond lay the door marked 'Guildmaster's Office.' Her magic funneled all entries here, regardless of door.

"Heri-sama, it's Trike. Coming in."

I knocked lightly and entered. Others needed permission; Heri-sama said, "Trike can just come in!"

She lounged, chin-propped, reviewing floating documents. Her stern face lit up at me.

"Oh... ah! Trike! You should've sent word—I could've prepared..."

Right... I forgot to signal amid the chaos.

"Sorry. My inadequacy..."

"No, no! Trike did nothing wrong! Everyone forgets sometimes!!"

She waved it off, comforting me. Gesturing, she filed documents to her desk and sat.

"Ahem... So cute. My Trike♡ Right! How was Beth? Anything odd?"

Kuh... Knew it'd come. Must report Elizabeth's actions—but omit the incident. Hesitating, I handed my log.

"Elizabeth left the Guild, bought an apple at the grocer. No meetings or talks on the street."

"Hmm... Nothing special with the shopkeeper?"

"Just checkout chat."

"Really? Then next?"

She wanted verbal details before checking the log. After grocer, Elizabeth met Raysi at the armory...

"W-weapon... Ah...!"

Rachel's warning flashed. She'd torn log pages—including the armory meet. Mentioning it...

No, maybe Heri-sama...? Grand Mage title's no joke. She might beat Rachel.

But if Rachel learned I defied... If Heri-sama got hurt because of me...? Endless thoughts in seconds.

Heri-sama taught: "When choosing, weigh gains/losses. Big gain, small loss. Equal or unknown? Minimize loss."

Minimize loss... means...

"Nothing happened... She wandered streets post-grocer, then went home."

Worst-case assumption: withhold truth.

"Hm...? It's around 6 PM... Beth left at noon, brief grocer stop, wandering 6 hours?"

"Ah... that..."

Disaster. Didn't think that far. Even fudging, her investigation would expose. Too late to confess—we'd both suffer.

She opened the log, reading intently.

"No meetings... home at 6... That's all?"

"Yes..."

"Trike, one question."

"...?"

"What's with the torn pages?"

...!!

Torn by Rachel—unnatural gaps. She noticed, pressing.

"M-miswrote and tore it..."

Lame excuse, irreversible.

"What'd you miswrite?"

Sharp gaze unrelenting. Expected. But I doubled down foolishly.

"T-time wrong. Tore and tossed..."

Idiotic. Basic lesson: leave no traces in covert ops—from books and her lectures.

"I see... Tore and tossed... Hmm..."

Log in one hand, she fiddled keys with the other, pondering inscrutably. Punishment? Or else...?

"Heh... Such inexperience is cute too♡"

"Pardon?"

"N-nothing!"

Smiling faintly, she rose, approached, stroked my cheek.

"Sorry for grilling you, Trike. Sensitive case, had to be thorny. Hurt? Next time, correct on next page or strike through—don't tear. Rule one: no traces. Got it?"

"Y-yes, noted."

"Shall we head home?"

She offered hand warmly. I lived with her; we returned together post-work.

"Oh, first—return the magitech from morning. Coat too?"

Right... Tailing gear, including invis cloak. Handed coat.

Her face twisted.

"T-Trike? Your left sleeve... why torn off?"

"S-sleeve?"

Following her gaze: left sleeve gone, gleaming steel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arm exposed. Right intact—stark contrast.

"Trike... really nothing? Believe that seeing this? Truth now. What'd Beth do?"

Fierce expression—first since meeting her. Shadowed face, gripping shoulders trembling.

"R-really nothing... just..."

Amicable air shattered. Black aura of rage swirled.

"Fine. Can't trust you on this. Gagged by Beth? 'Speak and die'?"

"N-no..."

Realization: no words sway her now.

"Dare touch my Trike? Even Beth unforgivable, unforgivableunforgivable..."

Nail-biting mutter, explosive tension. If she stormed after Elizabeth...?

She'd never survive. Can't let that. Heri-sama's my savior...

--Hug!

"S-stop, Heri-sama!"

"E-eh...! T-Trike?"

I embraced trembling her from behind. She startled, stammering, turned.

"I-I really wasn't hurt. P-please, home. I'm hungry too. And... and..."

Tears welled. Couldn't bear her hurt by my fault. Begged desperately.

Her face softened at sobs; tremors, aura faded.

"A-hem... First time seeing Trike like this♡ Okay. You suffered too. Home first—talk later."

Beaming, she draped her coat over me, clasped hand.

"Trike... so cute♡"

"Y-yes...?"

"N-nothing!? H-home quick. Dinner—you're hungry."

Hand-in-hand, we returned. She'd invited homeless me, let me stay indefinitely. Endless gratitude.

"I'll wash up. Wait—dinner soon."

She always showered first post-return. I tidied gear, awaited.

"Wish today was a dream..."

Undesired memories: Rachel's massive jiggling breasts, wicked smile. Arm-ripping monster...

But why... recalling her face, memories... makes my dick hard...!?

Why...? Her soft breasts buried me in sweet scent, plusher than my gifted pillow. And her parting words lingered.

Why...? I wouldn't doubt my savior over such words. Life changed post-rescue.

--Slap, slap!

Cheek slaps to refocus—her taught method for dilemmas.

Forgettable yet unforgettable day. She'd calmed at Guild, but post-shower...?

She spotted sleeve instantly—knew something happened.

"Can't tell..."

Repeated inwardly. Speak=die. Real threat—endangers her too.

Pondered futilely. What to do...?

"Tri~ke♡"

"E-eh...? H-Heri-sama?"

Steamy-fresh, towel-clad, she hugged from behind.

"P-put clothes on... e-embarrassing...!"

"Trike's always like this—why embarrassed~?"

Her post-shower towel norm, habituated. Yet gaze drew to damp cleavage, pink strands evoking inexplicable mood.

Pink hair... like Rachel's... but smaller breasts... No. Why think of Rachel seeing Heri-sama!?

"Trike seems troubled. Something..."

"N-no. No worries."

"Hmm... okay? Dinner then~"

Subtle smile, she summoned nightclothes, kitchen tools auto-cooked. Familiar magic awed: kitchen alive, chopping, grilling, plating in 10 minutes.

"Eat well, Trike♡ Grow big—no need, just stay healthy♡"

"Itadakimasu, Heri-sama."

"Yes yes~"

She waited for my first bite. Asked once: "Watching you fills me." Routine dinner.

"Tomorrow's plans, Trike?"

"T-tomorrow...?"

Soup spoonful in, she smiled satisfied.

"Think I'd let it slide? I'll confront who touched my precious Trike."

"W-wait! Heri-sama, really...!"

"Stop. Said I can't trust you here. So, new task tomorrow."

She'd pondered while watching. Panicked mid-bite, yelled—but she continued unfazed.

"Can't send you to that danger again. But Beth's dear colleague. Conflicted..."

Shadowed face: disappointment in attack, desire to help clashed. Hard for friendless me to relate, but pained me seeing her.

"Anyway, familiars watch Beth. Trike, meet exiled Myrit outside territory tomorrow?"

"M-Myrit-sama...?"

Unexpected: Myrit Ledias, Elizabeth's husband, rank-1 adventurer. Gauntlet-crusher, sharp tactician—per her.

"While you tailed Beth, I sent duel-loser Myrit a letter via familiar. Reply just came."

"Content...?"

"Wants to talk. Meant to go, but post-your-incident, can't risk Beth-side. You instead?"

Shook envelope. Pure concern for me. No refusal.

"Early Guild tomorrow, so map spot on table. Magitech plenty—take all."

Done, handed letter, ate.

"Hate sending you alone—like Beth. Myrit's sane enough not killer."

Bitter smile, munching soup.

"Am I worthy such heavy task...? Not great..."

Ever wondered: why infinite trust in gutter thief like me? Who tried stealing from her...

"Not great? Ha! Who says? Ignore. Whatever world says, I believe in you. Cheer up—you're my lovel—precious man♡"

Sincere words, earnest face encouraged, soothed.

"Th-thank you, Heri-sama..."

We enjoyed cozy dinner; no more Elizabeth talk, her worry evident.

* * *

Dinner cleared by gesture. Post-wash, she took my hand to bedroom. One bed—we shared.

"Haa... Ending day with Trike's soft cheeks♡ Love it♡ Sniff... hair so fragrant♡"

Bedtime ritual: cheek-rubs, hair-sniffing. Norm post-rescue.

--Squeeze♡

"Mm..."

Head buried in her chest, I slept in embrace. But tonight felt off. Her breasts this small...? Or Rachel's haunting...?

"Goodnight, Heri-sama."

"Yes, sweet dreams, Trike♡"

Exhaustion won; her whisper, soft bed lulled me.

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