The Woman Who Hated People
The woman hated people. They always despised her, tormented her relentlessly. Even the children hurling stones at her when she was nothing more than a tiny girl. The adults who gazed at that foolish, blameless child with utter contempt.
There had been times when she'd thought she never wanted to approach anyone but Ain—wished they'd all just vanish. That was the fundamental shape that had molded her. Each stone that had flown at her in childhood had hammered away, relentlessly pounding her into form.
The pretty inner heart that once yearned for human affection had grown bumpy and shrunken. The purely kind, round soul had twisted into something sharp and jagged. It had hardened into a shape with no entrance at all, unless melted down and carefully reshaped.
Only Ain, who had slipped inside and held her close back then, had been allowed entry before it sealed shut. Anyone else daring to step within would have to love her and protect her to that very degree. She never imagined anyone in the world would make that effort for a woman bearing gray.
She couldn't bring herself to trust those who offered smiles merely because her hair and eyes had changed color. And so, even the bearded old man who lingered by her side, speaking to her persistently, she dismissed as one of them. At least, that's what the woman who had only ever been wounded by people told herself.
The woman was always clumsy, awkward. She wanted to work for Ain's sake, but even exchanging words with people made her stomach churn. Facing customers, forcing out speech, taking their money—if their hands so much as brushed hers, goosebumps crawled over her skin.
Emotions would surge. Something uncomfortable and sticky would boil up from her chest, so hard to restrain. That was the reason.
Good girl.
The reason she kept fumbling, making mistake after mistake in her clumsiness. ..., good girl. Muttering it endlessly inside, she'd somehow shoo the customer away, seizing the brief gap that followed.
Good girl.
Whipping her head around to gaze at someone, words spilling out.
"Ain, did I do well?"
Meeting the eyes that always watched her, she'd let out a deep breath. That inner murmur of hers.
Probably why she blundered even more on days when Ain wasn't there. No gentle smile watching over her when she glanced back sharply. Just those gazes she found repulsive encircling her.
She had to concentrate to suppress the emotions constantly threatening to spill over. Even though there was one gaze, from a little distance away, watching her with constant worry—that's what she told herself.
And so.
The reason this woman opened a tiny empty space in her heart to someone else. The reason she strove so hard, again and again, to stop making mistakes.
It was because, one day, she finally felt the sincerity wrapping around her.
That day, Ain was off. An unusually busy day with crowds of customers, and several men who seemed to come just to pester her.
"..., Thank you. Have a..., good day."
A customer receiving change deliberately seized her hand.
"That'll be 85 dera total."
"Miss, what do you do after work?"
Even ignoring them, a man leaned over the counter, raking her with lewd eyes.
Good girl.
Every time her emotions flared at the sight of them, she'd whisper to herself that she had to be a good girl.
"..., Thank you. Please, leave now."
"Hey, you ignoring me? What do you do after closing?"
And that's when the mistakes slipped out.
Good, girl... .
Suppressing the gray from overwhelming the shop amid surging emotions demanded intense focus.
"..., Next customer."
"Miss, no answer? I'm complimenting you nicely, saying you're pretty—you deaf or what?"
To keep from gouging out those eyes roving her body, she had to endure somehow.
Good..., g, girl.
Chanting the word like a mantra inside, clenching her fist tight. Nails digging into flesh, blood dripping unnoticed; she breathed deep to steady her trembling body.
For Ain's sake, she'd started this—couldn't cause trouble that might hurt him. So she endured.
"Please leave.... Next customer."
And that alone would have earned Ain's praise if he'd been there.
But.
The man crossed the line despite her ignoring him and other customers' interventions.
"Ha, I wasn't gonna go this far, but this girl just won't do."
Then a rough hand seized her shoulder.
Good...
Despite her desperate efforts to hold back, gray began to rise around her.
G, girl.
It spread so slowly no one noticed, until one starter word from her lips would reduce the man touching her to dust.
Her body shuddered violently. A desperate struggle to halt the swirling gray. Thrashing to avoid being swept into its emotions.
Yet emotions detached from reason forced her mouth open, chanting the first starter word.
"Ash dust."
⟨ Starter Incantation ⟩
And.
Before the next word could follow.
Thwack—crash!
With that sound, the man touching her flew back far away. A thick garment draped over the woman's trembling shoulders, and atop the flung man, someone rained down fists repeatedly.
"Never seen a bastard like this."
The voice spilling from his lips wasn't the usual hearty boom.
Thwack— "Who the hell you touching in my shop?"
It was thick with fury.
Thwack— "The two kids working in my shop are like my own children."
Perhaps that raw depth pierced her heart like a needle.
Thwack— Fists plunged down heedless of the man's screams and groans.
Thwack— Panicked customers rushed to intervene, but he swung with emotion etched on his face.
And loud enough to reach her: "Even I handle her with care! She's like my first daughter, and you dare?!"
It rang so vividly. Echoing in her ears, pounding thud against the firmly shut fence.
"Kids you puny shit aren't fit to touch!!"
Someone seeking to scale that bumpy, shrunken, sharp, jagged fence.
No entrance unless melted and hammered anew—yet.
"You dare...! Dare talk to and touch my daughter like that!!"
The bearded old man who vaulted the high, solid, sealed fence and stepped inside. The one who realized that to enter, one must love and protect her that much.
And so.
"..., Ah."
The gray filling the space around her vanished without a trace.
Thwack— "You damned bastard!!"
Her wide eyes staring at his back as he kept striking despite the pleas proved her shock.
Someone would surely open the gate and stride in boldly. Another might squeeze through a tiny hole at the edge.
People would keep entering her fenced heart. Like Ain, who came first and claimed more than half—others would take roles too.
But no one else would leap the towering fence and startle her like this.
Rendo.
Owner of the grocery shop. An extra on an ordinary stage.
To him too, a new role was granted. New variables kept emerging, slipping into the stage shaped by the gods.
That single anomalous cogwheel slowly colored its surroundings.
Rendo, protector of the gray.
Time passed.
After customers left and the shop door shut, awkward emotions flowed between the remaining two.
"..., You okay? Sorry I didn't step in sooner."
"...."
Rendo's hands bore wounds as he spoke. She stared blankly, then lifted her gaze to his face.
"I'll make sure scum like that never pull shit like this again."
"...."
Still cautious, still awkward around her.
"Uh, and what I blurted out earlier in the heat of the moment—don't mind it at all."
"...."
Even telling her not to worry about his words.
So she gazed at him steadily, then dashed pat-pat-pat to the back room.
"Huh? Where you going all of a sudden...?"
No answer to the voice behind her, but she yanked open a small drawer, pulling out something familiar.
Then dashed back pat-pat-pat to him.
"..., Thank you."
"...."
Offering ointment and bandages with those words.
Now roles reversed; the old man stood stunned, speechless. Bowing her head in thanks, her shy figure startled him into stammering—a far cry from his bold, fierce display moments ago.
Her first words ever spoken.
"And I'm sorry, sir."
"...."
Her first step toward someone other than Ain.