Psyche's First Bath
“Psyche, aren’t you coming in? What are you doing?”
Psyche was hesitantly pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door.
Is she still too embarrassed to bathe together?
Even so, I couldn’t just leave a child who looked this fragile to wash herself alone. I took Psyche’s hand and led her right up to the bathroom entrance. But she stopped dead just before the threshold, as if an invisible wall had blocked her path.
“Psyche?”
When I turned back to her, she avoided my gaze, clutching the hem of her tattered dress so tightly her knuckles turned white. I could see her small shoulders trembling.
“U-um… Sister. It’s really okay if I don’t wash. It’d be a waste to use water on someone like me. I-I’d rather go wash in the stream.”
A stream? In this weather? It wasn’t freezing, but it was hardly stream-bathing weather.
“What are you talking about, a stream in this weather? No more arguing—come on in, okay?”
“B-but…”
Psyche seemed terrified that this unfamiliar kindness might turn into poison. Being treated well by anyone must have felt like a horror to her.
Recalling how I’d cared for my nieces in my past life, I lowered myself to her eye level, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.
“Psyche. To me, having you get clean and sleep comfortably matters way more than a little water.”
“But… if I go in with my dirty body, I’ll make the whole bathroom filthy… Mom got mad earlier about how I smelled. I don’t want to bother you too, Sister.”
Psyche took another step back. Her eyes brimmed with anxiety, on the verge of tears.
…I couldn’t heal the deep wounds in her heart all at once. But if we didn’t start taking steps forward from now, nothing would change.
I gently wrapped my hands around her cold ones.
“It’s fine. If it gets messy, I’ll clean it up. And Mom’s just rough with her words—she’ll be shocked when she sees how pretty you get later, you know?”
I smiled brightly at Psyche.
“Come on, trust your sister just this once and step inside. Once you’re in the warm water, you’ll forget all about today’s hardships.”
After my persistent coaxing, Psyche hesitated, then very slowly crossed the threshold.
Inside the cramped bathroom, steam rose gently. Psyche stood hunched like a guilty child in front of the large tub filled with warm water.
With practiced hands, I lathered up some soap and gently worked it into her hair. Washing a child felt a bit awkward, but looking at her frail little body made my touch instinctively tender.
“Hold still now. I’ll be careful not to get any in your eyes. Tell me right away if it stings.”
“…Yes, Sister.”
Every time my fingers touched her hair, she flinched like a startled cat. But the warm moisture enveloping her seemed to help; she looked far less tense than she had been in the living room earlier.
As I softly massaged her hair, matted with sweat and dirt, I casually asked, “Psyche, how old are you exactly? Father didn’t say a word—just brought you home and left.”
“Oh, um… I’m five. I’ll be six soon.”
Five years old. On Earth, she’d be playing with friends at kindergarten, snacking, and whining to her parents. Yet here she was, already learning to read others’ faces and apologize first.
I swallowed my bitterness and rinsed out the soap suds.
“I see. So, where did you live before? How’d you end up here?”
At my question, Psyche’s small shoulders sank deeper into the water. She stared blankly at the rippling streams in the tub, then answered in a tiny, cautious voice.
Fragment by fragment, stories spilled out: living in a warehouse, enduring constant scolding; Father picking her up like an object.
“I see. You’ve been through so much, Psyche. No more sleeping in cold places like that—don’t worry.”
I rinsed her thoroughly and wrapped her slender body in a large, fluffy towel. As the warmth enveloped her, she narrowed her eyes in pleasure and leaned her head lightly against me.
Back in the room, I sat Psyche by the bedhead and fetched another dry towel. I began drying her damp hair with care.
As the coarse, tangled strands dried, they gradually revealed their true color—a transparent, pure silver, like moonlight melted down. In the dim lamplight, they shimmered subtly, extraordinary to anyone’s eyes.
Already, glimpses of the saintess praised as the child blessed by God in the original story shone through.
“Wow, Psyche. Your hair is so pretty. It’s like a galaxy floating in the night sky.”
At my sincere admiration, Psyche whipped her head around to stare at me, her large eyes filled with confusion.
“R-really? Everyone said it was eerie… They hated it, even tried to cut it with scissors, calling it ghostly.”
“Eerie? Whoever said that must be blind. I’ve never seen silver this beautiful in my life.”
It wasn’t flattery at all. Psyche’s hair was like—
“Fairy hair, exactly. And with that cute baby face, boys will line up to see you when you grow up.”
Her pale cheeks flushed pink at my praise. She fiddled shyly with the ends of her hair, lips twitching before whispering softly, “Sister’s… way prettier. Yours is black like the night sky, all shiny. It’s such a pretty color… like something I have to protect.”
“Haha, thanks.”
I finished drying her hair and threw back the covers on my bed.
“There, all dry now. Let’s sleep together tonight. It gets cold alone.”
Psyche’s eyes went wide as saucers. She waved her hands in a panic.
“W-what?! N-no! I can sleep on the floor! The bed’s yours—I couldn’t possibly… I’ll curl up small in the corner. Please.”
“The floor’s freezing. What if you catch a cold? Unless… you don’t want to sleep with me?”
I pouted sadly, and she shook her head frantically.
“N-no! It’s not that I don’t want to… I just don’t want to disturb your sleep…”
“Disturb? Truth is, I get a bit scared sleeping alone. If you sleep with me, I can rest easy. Won’t you help your sister out?”
Knowing Psyche fell for it easily, I slumped my shoulders and put on my most pitiful face. She fidgeted anxiously, then finally sat tentatively on the edge of the bed.
I scooted her toward the inside and tucked the thick quilt up to her chin meticulously. Before extinguishing the lamp, I lightly tapped her forehead.
“Psyche, tomorrow let’s not just grab whatever’s around the house like today. I’ll buy us something delicious outside. Something loaded with meat. Got it?”
For Psyche, I wouldn’t hesitate to spend every coin I’d saved.
“W-why treat someone like me to something so expensive…”
“There you go again. ‘Someone like you’? For my little sister Psyche, I’d buy anything.”
I met her eyes and continued. “I’ll show you the breads I developed at the bakery where I work. Ever heard of pizza bread? You’ll be amazed when you try it. Look forward to tomorrow.”
“Bread you made yourself, Sister…? I want to try it.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. I gently stroked her plump cheek.
As I did, Psyche’s breathing grew steady and even. I gazed at the ceiling.
Maybe this is the only path to getting Psyche back to Earth.
If I gave all the hero’s opportunities to her… I couldn’t guarantee success. But one thing was certain: better her than that hero.
If it worked, I’d return to Earth. I looked at the little one clutching my arm in sleep.
At least while I’m stuck in this world, I want to make you the happiest person alive. You deserve it.
I dragged my stiff body upright. Psyche must have been exhausted from yesterday—she was still asleep.
Should I make some breakfast at least?
I carefully adjusted her quilt and headed to the kitchen.
“Still nothing…”
Rummaging through the cupboard, I confirmed we lacked ingredients for a proper meal. I’d have to grab breakfast in the village. Sighing, I returned to the room.
As I approached to wake Psyche—
“Ugh… haa… hngh…”
“Psyche! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!”
Psyche was buried under the quilt, groaning in pain.