The Duo and the First Cracks in Confidence
The duo known as the Tungtung-Bisil pair cursed under their breath as they hauled their handcart up the middle of the hill.
“Huff… huff… Fucking hell…”
“Khaaaack—ptoo! This road is absolute dogshit!”
“Hey… let’s take a break. I’m gonna die at this rate.”
The two young men, teeth clenched so hard their lips twisted and faces scrunched up, finally gave up. They wedged a rock behind the cart wheel and flopped flat onto the ground.
“Ugh, I’m losing my mind. No matter how much the boss orders it, why the hell do I have to do this crap with my level of experience?”
“The guy who’s only pushing from behind is the one whining the most?”
“Look at your damn mouth. Did I just slack off back there?”
“Am I wrong? If you’re so pissed, you pull from the front, you little shit.”
“You fat pig.”
“You skinny sardine.”
The two young men stared at each other and exchanged plenty of healthy, constructive feedback. Of course, the process involved them passionately spitting out all sorts of insults that could easily be misunderstood as fighting words, and it looked like it might actually break into a brawl… but…
“Haa… stop the bullshit and let’s push again. We’ll finish this delivery and head back.”
“After we drop this off, pork cutlet on you?”
“Of course, you dumbass.”
Since it was just their usual everyday WWE match, no actual physical fight ever broke out. In the end, the handcart-pulling duo were coworkers who understood each other perfectly and served as each other’s emotional trash cans.
“Oh, flat ground.”
After passing the slope locals had nicknamed “The Flirt’s Hill,” they finally reached level ground. As their ragged breathing gradually calmed, a chattering voice slipped into the gap.
“But you know, our boss has been acting kinda weird lately.”
“Just the fact that he’s making us deliver this garbage is weird enough.”
“No… that’s true, but… what was her name again?”
“That little kid you first thought was some noble’s daughter and spoke politely to?”
“Your mouth is unusually free today. Anyway, was it Helen?”
“Yeah, Helen. Why are you suddenly bringing her up?”
“Don’t you think she might be the boss’s secret love child?”
“Ah, you’ve finally opened your eyes. Off to the psychoanalysis gallery with you.”
“Stop being sarcastic, you bastard. Even you have to admit it’s weird. No matter how cute she is, does it make sense for him to treat a slum kid like that? With his personality?”
“Aha… so that’s the nonsense you were spewing.”
The skinnier of the two handcart pullers—the one whose cheeks were so hollow he would from now on be called Bisil—scratched his temple.
“You don’t know about the boss’s childhood? He’s just seeing his younger self in her. The boss grew up without parents too, you know. It’s sympathy born from shared suffering.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m telling you his gaze was weird. Like… dripping with honey or something…”
“Think about it, you idiot. How many kids in the world would crawl into a chimney at that age just to pay off a debt that isn’t even theirs? It’s insanely admirable. Even I’d look at her that way.”
“Hmm… is that it? I don’t know. It feels a bit different from that kind of emotion… something darker…”
“So you’re saying the boss is a pedophile?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying, you crazy bastard. Shouldn’t this guy be going to a lobotomy seminar instead of a mental hospital?”
“Why are you phrasing it like that… hmm?”
“Why are you suddenly looking behind you?”
“I feel like someone’s following us.”
“There it is again, your bullshit disease acting up, you damn weeb. Stop reading those Conan or Yanan mystery novels.”
“You done talking?”
As they headed toward the delivery destination, the handcart duo kept raising their voices and bickering nonstop. But now that they had arrived, they reluctantly had to wrap up their argument. No matter how crudely the duo usually lived, it was too much to spew curses freely in front of a little kid.
The slightly plump young man and his polar opposite—the gaunt one—had been glued together so often that Helen couldn’t help but think of Tungtung and Bisil every time she saw them. The pair greeted the brightly smiling Helen with warm smiles of their own.
“Nice to see you, Helen.”
“You guys are here?”
“We’re not ‘guys’…”
Tungtung and Bisil flinched. Bisil, whose pale sunken cheeks made him look twice his age, twitched even more. Helen noticed their reaction strongly and awkwardly scratched the back of her head.
To be honest, considering their ages, calling them “oppa” would have been more appropriate. However, to Helen—who had once been a man—the title “oppa” felt not only extremely unfamiliar and cringeworthy but also carried a somewhat petty vibe. So she decided to thoroughly take advantage of her childlike position and consistently call every man taller than her “mister.”
After all, even though she was in her early twenties, when she wore a military uniform people still called her “soldier mister” on public transport. Yeah, it was that kind of thing.
With that in mind, she trotted over to the Tungtung-Bisil duo as they slowly started working, hoping they wouldn’t feel too upset, and offered to lend a hand like a little kitten.
“It’s dangerous, so stay over there.”
“Okay.”
Helen answered shortly and immediately scampered to the corner, quietly watching them work.
“Damn it… what are you doing?”
“I’m telling you, it really feels like someone’s watching us!”
“Stop bullshitting and work! When I lower this, you have to catch it and load the next one!”
Helen watched the two of them loading and unloading and let out a small giggle. Their body types, tastes, and personalities were complete opposites, yet they were always together—it was both fascinating and hilarious.
“Heh…”
“Huh? Is there something on my face?”
“No, it’s just… um…”
She couldn’t possibly say the nicknames Tungtung and Bisil out loud to people who were stronger than her in so many ways, so Helen trailed off naturally and dodged the question.
. . . . .
After setting the irkalkeke coal tar down in the backyard, Helen and the Tung-Sil duo loaded the now-empty cart full of waterproofing agent and headed for the harbor.
Between the various street stalls, Tungtung and Bisil briskly set down the waterproofing goods. Just as they had promised earlier, they left to go eat pork cutlets.
“We’re off.”
“Thank you! See you next time!”
“Yeah.”
Helen waved at the two young men as they disappeared into the crowd pulling their empty cart. Once she confirmed they were completely out of sight, she started her business in a suitable empty spot.
“Waterproofing agent~ For sale~ Cheap, so cheap~ Only 1 shilling and 5 coppers!”
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other with a bit of rhythmic movement mixed in, her sales pitch was definitely an improvement from last time.
“Waterproofing agent~ Performance guaranteed~ If it leaks, we promise a full refund!”
Helen, who had once been worse at business than a shy recluse, had changed so much in just a few days that it was like she was a different person.
What kind of change had come over Helen?
“Waterproofing agent for sale! Really cheap! Performance is solid!”
In truth, no particularly noteworthy change had occurred. It was simply that the excessive tension and dazed mental state from her very first steps had been suppressing Helen’s natural wisdom.
“Waterproofing agent for sale. Performance guaranteed.”
The wise Helen knew well that the past was nothing but a dream and the future was but a vision. Therefore, a well-spent today could turn every past into a happy dream and every future into a hopeful vision.
“Waterproofing agent… f-for sale… really cheap, I promise…”
This was the secret behind her regained confidence. Although it wasn’t exactly a fair transaction, the memory of her first deal—selling thirty buckets of waterproofing agent all at once—had become a beneficial storm that watered the desperately dry tree of her confidence.
“W-waterproofing agent…”
The so-called taut tension had finally snapped…
“W-waterprooof…………”
?
“Sniff…”
Hmm. It seemed she had overlooked one very important fact.
What was that important fact?
Helen’s monumental first success had been nothing more than typical beginner’s luck.
Let’s review it somewhat coldly from now on.
Helen’s first customer had been a low-ranking sailor who had even embezzled public funds—a man living a complete dead-end life. He had no sanity left to inspect the product’s quality or the seller’s credibility. The only thing that existed for him was the extreme desperation of having to gamble on those thirty leaky buckets and fill the rest with money to fool the captain’s eyes.
In other words, even if it hadn’t been Helen’s waterproofing agent, he would have gladly bought anything that looked similar in color—even mud from the tidal flats.
She had thoroughly ignored the miraculous situation created by countless coincidences, built a happy circuit assuming the waterproofing agent would continue to sell well, and selectively remembered only the favorable memory of her first deal’s great success.
In short, she had fallen into the error of confirmation bias.
Waterproofing agent applied to the bottom of a ship was a critical security material directly tied to the safety of vessels worth dozens or even hundreds of sovereigns. If a dirty little slum kid suddenly showed up with a filthy bucket full of some unknown black sludge and shouted, “This is waterproofing agent! Heehee!” no sane shipowner or fisherman would ever buy it.
“Waaah.”
When her thoughts reached this point, Helen began to cry, squeezing out tears.
As the anesthesia of confirmation bias wore off and the harsh sea wind of reality—armed with objective indicators—blew in, the once-sprouting tree of confidence shriveled up again, its leaves falling off in droves.
Watching Helen like that made my chest feel like it was being torn apart. And the same was true for Bread Hat, who had been sneakily watching her from behind the alley.
“Ugh, that frustrating kid…”
Bread Hat reached out anxiously toward Helen, who had wilted in less than five minutes and was now just sniffling and hesitating, then let out a deep sigh. Deciding this wouldn’t do, he grabbed one of the passing pedestrians with the intention of easing her worries.
“Hey.”
“M-me?”
“Come here.”
“Yes?”
“Come here, you idiot.”
Even in a neutral expression, Bread Hat already looked incredibly intimidating. When he crumpled his face, an ordinary pedestrian had no courage to refuse.
“W-why…? I don’t have anything…”
“It’s not that, so stop being scared. See that kid over there?”
“The crying kid over there?”
“Yeah. I’ll give you money, so go buy one of the buckets that kid is selling.”
“???”
The pedestrian tilted his head. What the hell was this situation? A forced sale? But he was handing over money, so it wasn’t exactly that…
“Stop dawdling and go already.”
“Ah, yes, understood.”
“After you buy it, don’t come back here. Just go on your way.”
“Yes, sir.”
The pedestrian who received Bread Hat’s instructions immediately started walking in the indicated direction. Before long, Helen’s voice rang out.
“Thank you so muuuuuch!!!!!!!”
“Ah, no need. Sell lots.”
Bread Hat repeated this act until Helen’s sales calls returned to their original level.