Help Me, Bbangsuo
The pedestrians' frantic gestures and shouts began to stretch out longer and longer, like a ventriloquist deliberately slowing his speech. Helen couldn't tell whether her thoughts were accelerating or if time itself was truly crawling. In the gradually approaching terror of death, a strangely hazy, moist glow appeared. Within that light, Helen was smiling, frowning, crying, pouting—her expressions flickering endlessly between light and shadow.
She knew exactly what this vision meant. She knew its identity all too well.
A life flashing before one's eyes. It had begun.
Helen let everything go. It was over. Whether she got crushed under the cart or slammed into the wall, she was going to end up like a burst tomato. Had it been too arrogant to think she could just diligently repay her debts and live an ordinary life?
…And then.
A voice of salvation rang out.
Helen instinctively reached toward the direction of the voice. Her body seemed to float up lazily, as if buoyed by water, before it was yanked upward with a jolt. The owner of the voice had seized her hand and hauled her up with tremendous force. The adrenaline surging wildly through her veins clogged the flow of her perception, making everything feel like slow motion.
In that fleeting instant when her body was lifted into the air by an unknown person's grip, time seemed to freeze.
"Oh my goodness, what on earth is happening?"
"That was a close call."
The distorted senses that had been stretching out the bystanders' exclamations gradually returned to normal. Then—
Thud…
The sound of the cart smashing in the distance arrived one beat late, and her senses snapped back to perfect clarity.
"Haa… huff…"
It wasn't Helen's breathing she heard. Her body was rising and falling in steady rhythm against someone else's chest. Realizing she was being held in someone's arms, Helen quickly wriggled down to the ground and bowed her head deeply.
"Th-thank you for saving me. If you tell me your name, I'll repay you later somehow…"
"Just don't die and pay back your debt. That's all the repayment I need."
"Debt?"
The moment she heard a secret that only one person in the world should know, Helen slowly lifted her bowed head with a growing sense of dread.
"Ugh."
"What kind of reaction is that?"
Helen sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled backward. Even without his signature flat cap, there was no way she could forget that face.
"Th-that's what I want to ask! What are you doing here?"
"For crying out loud, you little rat-sized brat… You can't even recognize your own savior?"
"Eh?"
Helen, who had been ready to argue, paused and took a proper look at Bread Hat's appearance and their surroundings. Only then did she understand what he was saying. His Chesterfield coat was covered in dirt, as if he'd rolled across the ground. His dark brown flat cap was lying on the floor too—it hadn't been left off on purpose; it had been knocked off.
"Um…"
A wave of embarrassment crashed over her. Overwhelmed by the awkwardness and at a complete loss for words, Helen stood there like a silent little statue, cheeks puffed out, lips twitching.
"Aaaagh! What the hell is this sticky stuff?!"
"…Sticky?"
While trying to shake off her embarrassment, a sudden scream made her glance over Bread Hat's shoulder. As expected, the cart had slammed into the wall and shattered into pieces. Among the broken buckets, a thick, pitch-black liquid was spreading across the street, devouring the ground.
"Nyaaaaaaaagh!!! My money!!!"
The sight of the cart that had once carried all her dreams and hopes now bleeding out thick black fluid like it was dying made Helen scream.
"Yikes."
Bread Hat, who absolutely loathed getting dragged into annoying chores like cleaning, didn't even bother figuring out who was responsible for the spilled coal tar. He simply scooped Helen up and bolted.
Carrying the completely drained and limp Helen under his arm, he arrived at a quiet little café nearby. It was the kind of place frequented by philosophers and scholars, full of reading clubs and bridge clubs—an oppressively conventional atmosphere with zero sense of humor. Perfect for hiding.
"May I take your order?"
"One iced Americano and… one milk tea. Mix in some sugar cubes since it's for the kid."
"I'm afraid sugar prices have risen recently, so we can't provide any."
"Then what do you have?"
"Would you like some Zetti instead?"
"Sure, that'll do."
"Understood."
"???"
After finishing the order, Bread Hat and Helen—who was still dangling from his side—moved to a secluded corner and sat down facing each other. Their drinks arrived shortly. One familiar, almost comforting iced Americano, and one cup of Zetti whose very existence was questionable. Helen took a sip of the Zetti through the paper straw and slowly began to calm down.
After facing a situation that had completely blown past the bounds of expectation—an utterly absurd one—everything suddenly felt ridiculous.
"Seriously. Why are you so down over a pile of filth like that?"
"No. Uh. Yeah… You're right. It's stupid."
Sipping the nostalgic flavor, Helen had been radiating the lofty aura of an enlightened monk who had transcended worldly affairs. Her eyes darted around before finally settling on Bread Hat's dirt-stained Chesterfield coat. Only then did she offer a belated thank you.
"Thank you for saving me."
"Wow, that thank-you came really fast, huh?"
"Ahem… Are you okay? You didn't get hurt anywhere, did you?"
"Hurt?" Bread Hat muttered, as if only now remembering. Born with an abundance of mischief and an exceptional talent for spotting other people's discomfort, he felt a sudden urge to tease her a little.
Wearing a faint smile that reminded one of the sly villain in a children's program who cleverly bends the rules, Bread Hat grabbed his left arm and shook it.
"Ow. It hurts so much."
"S-stop joking around."
"I'm serious. It really hurts. I think it's broken."
"Uuuu…"
"Huh?"
When Helen's eyes welled up with tears, Bread Hat became genuinely flustered. What was this reaction? It was such an obvious, clumsy, and terrible fake injury that no one would fall for it—yet she was buying it completely. He was incredibly curious how she'd been fooled. At the same time, watching her teary eyes gave him a strangely… indescribable feeling.
A pathetic sense of satisfaction? Or perhaps the base sadism often mentioned in psychoanalysis. Either way, it was starting to feel shameful.
Before this dangerous emotion could inflict irreparable damage on his normal sense of ethics and reason, Bread Hat quickly confessed.
"Hic… I knew it. There's no way I'd fall for such a terrible act."
"Uh, yeah… Right?"
"Of course. I was just playing along."
Despite her calm expression, Helen sounded slightly angry as she nervously crunched on the ice. She had a lot she wanted to say, but Bread Hat—who didn't want to poke a hornet's nest—simply nodded and smoothly changed the subject.
"So, what was that cart and the black stuff anyway?"
"Ah… coal tar? It was the material for my business item."
"That garbage? Don't tell me you've gotten too obsessed with that fairy tale about selling river water?"
"Hah. Seriously."
Helen snorted. Instead of a pretentious, boring rebuttal, she slammed a pouch containing thirty shillings onto the table with a loud clack.
"Look. This is what I earned in a single day."
"One, two, three… Thirty shillings? You earned this? For real?"
"What do you think?"
With both hands on her narrow hips, Helen thrust out her small chest and chin, looking as smug as could be.
"If I can secure a steady supply of materials and proper transportation, I can earn way more than this. I guarantee it!"
"How did you even do it? I can't even imagine."
"That's a secret. Anyway, it's a business with limitless potential, don't you think?"
"Haha…"
Bread Hat let out a small laugh. He was surprised that the business talk she'd been spouting at the harbor had actually been a serious hardcore strategy. At the same time, his eyes began to narrow. His merchant instincts were kicking into high gear.
If everything Helen said was true, this was clearly a jackpot business. After all, a venture with production costs approaching zero was something he'd never heard of or seen in his life. Plus, the materials were easy to obtain. He was tempted. The desire to either intimidate her or coax her into giving him exclusive rights surged up instantly. He wanted to switch industries. For a loan shark tired of dealing with pathetic debtors, it was an entirely natural desire.
"Hmm? Is there something on my face?"
"No… it's nothing…"
Bread Hat sighed and rubbed his face as if washing it. Only now did he realize it—this kid… was way too naive. Silently accepting her irresponsible parents' debt, going to that brutal factory every day to repay it (he'd already forgotten about threatening her with a knife), falling for ridiculous lies, and blurting out money-making schemes without the slightest suspicion! It was honestly worrying. Even though he wasn't married, he imagined this was how it felt to watch a child you'd left by the riverside.
"Kid, you shouldn't just go around telling people things like that."
"Telling what?"
"Huu…"
He rubbed his face again. Her words and actions really made him think about a lot of things. The fact that he'd tried to send her to a brothel under the pretense of "consideration" now made him feel ashamed.
…Let's stop the self-loathing here.
Anyway, Bread Hat found Helen's business idea quite appealing, but it was also the source of his anxiety. Not for himself—for her. He just hoped she wouldn't get scammed by someone else.
"Hey. Why don't you work with me?"
It was purely the wish that this innocent beginner entrepreneur would only walk on a flower path.
…That way she could pay back the debt too, right?