22. The Boy's Story Upper
A boy was scribbling something on the floor.
He was younger than the other kids his age, a scruffy little urchin you saw often in the slums. Yet his eyes were sharp, gazing at places others didn’t even look.
-Swish swish.
“...”
No matter how poor the education environment was, he knew everything. He even knew the name of the first disciple of the great Saint was Linar.
From that, Ryly.
Once the old name of his father’s Renest.
Combining them made Ryly Renest.
But since this name had been revoked and was unusable...
He took only the first part and attached “Ryly.” That was his name.
The boy who had decided on his own name rushed home in a hurry.
The father during the day didn’t drink. The mother during the day didn’t leave the house.
That was why he could show off the name he had made himself.
“How is it?”
“Umm... Do as you like...”
The tired mother rolled over with a sigh.
“How is it?”
“...”
The taciturn father showed no reaction.
But it didn’t matter. The boy who had never received a name from his parents—called “Ya,” “You,” or “Kiddo”—now had a name at this very moment. At least neither of them had denied the new name he had created.
If no one gives it to me, I’ll make it myself.
The boy, Ryly, smiled with a mischievous face.
***
Ryly had a dream. The whole family worked hard to save money and one day escape this dreary place.
Even though days were spent chimney-cleaning until his body ached and nights brought beatings from his drunken father, he endured it all.
‘Everyone lives like this.’
Everyone lived like this. It wasn’t just him. It was simply one of the common sights in the slums.
That thought made his heart feel strangely at ease, as if he were melting into something vague and hazy that would become nothing at all.
“I have to go to work! Don’t bother me!”
“You only work? I don’t work!”
“Hah! Hit me? If my face and body get ruined, I can’t earn money? I’ll earn it all by myself!”
“This is real!”
Today he had a new job—moving gemstones into fuel containers inside a large machine. Although the machine was big enough for adults, it wasn’t. This work was meant for children.
When he returned with a body that ached in a different way from chimney cleaning, the same scene always greeted him.
Swearing, throwing things, and beating in the hazy twilight.
Ryly quietly stepped outside.
His heart pounded, but he forced himself to ignore it. Thanks to one belief, he could stay calm.
The dream of escaping this place by exerting strength belonged not only to him but to the entire family.
No matter how often they fought, they always ended up together. Even if they never said it, everyone probably thought the same thing.
We are always together.
A bright red sunset colored the faded land.
Following that color, walking straight ahead, you would see an old man slumped on the ground. Emaciated body in tattered clothes, a pungent smell. A beggar you could see anywhere.
“Grandfather.”
When he sat beside him, there was no greeting. Yet if there was some connection or promise, writing practice began immediately.
How words changed according to grammar. How pronunciation shifted. How conjugation worked. The teaching was surprisingly excellent for an environment with only dirt and twigs.
While studying, the day’s work suddenly came to mind and he opened his mouth.
“Grandfather. I made up my name today. Since Mom and Dad didn’t give me one, I made it myself. Ryly. What do you think?”
“...”
He silently wrote the character “Ryly.” Apart from that, he continued writing practice without any particular reaction.
It was indifferent, but it didn’t matter. In this place where anger and contempt were natural, simply being accepted filled the boy’s heart.
It had started by chance.
While wandering the streets to avoid his parents’ fights as usual, the old man beckoned. Skeptical but hopeful, he responded, and the old man immediately began teaching letters.
For the boy, it was nothing but gratitude. Knowing letters meant possibility. One day he could see a “book,” study, accumulate knowledge, and get a better job.
He didn’t know what the old man had been thinking when he started teaching. Maybe just to pass the time at the end of the road. Or hoping to be repaid for success. Or perhaps a wonderful thought that children must learn letters.
Anyway, it didn’t matter.
“It’s getting dark now. I should go. Thank you again today.”
“...”
As expected, no greeting, but in one corner of his heart he felt at ease. The feeling of silently watching over him oddly felt good.
Leaving him behind, he headed home.
The moment he opened the door, a bottle flew through the air.
“Where have you been wandering around late at night, you little brat!”
-Crack!
His lip burst. It had been healing from a previous hit, but it split open again.
“You’re just like your mother! The things you do and the way you look are exactly the same!”
His head was grabbed. Golden hair was yanked and thrown away.
“...”
It was fine.
It was fine.
It was a common occurrence.
If he didn’t drink, he would be a good man. He didn’t swear or hit.
The neighboring house, the front house, the back house—all of them lived being beaten. It wasn’t just him. It wasn’t unusual.
‘Everyone lives like this.’
The more he repeated it, the more his heart, himself, felt like smoke scattering.
Scraping himself, scraping himself.
***
“I’m home~”
Surprisingly, it was a return home that looked happy.
At dawn when the sun was just beginning to rise, Ryly rubbed his eyes and woke up.
“Mom... Are you back?”
“Yeah~ Ruila? Rialli? I don’t know~ Anyway, kid, come here and eat these.”
“Ryly...”
Muttering, he went to the front door in a daze. There was a lot of food—fruits, roasted meat, and various dishes.
His eyes widened.
“This... Where did it come from?”
“I have a rich customer I like lately, and he treated me to a meal at the shop. I brought some leftovers. Eat. I’ll sleep well.”
“Ah... Good night...”
From the passing mother came the smell of alcohol, cosmetics, and all kinds of debauchery. It was so strong it made his nose wrinkle, but it was the scent that came to mind when he heard “Mom” from Ryly.
“... Noisy.”
In the midst of this, the bedroom door opened. The vibrating smell of alcohol. In the room he had glimpsed briefly, several bottles were rolling around.
“I came back from work, it might be noisy. You go too and eat something.”
“What? Say sorry, say sorry! I just fell asleep and woke up!”
“Hah... It’s starting again. I’m so tired...”
Ryly quietly picked up a piece of meat and a fruit and went out through the window to the outside of the house. Leaning against the outer wall and squatting, the sounds of fighting as usual came vividly.
Hearing it made his stomach turn, but seeing the precious food, he somehow went in. The sight of eating greedily felt pitiful. With moist eyes, he stared only at the ground.
Then suddenly, when he came to his senses, it was a bright morning.
Even in this dreary place, the sun shone without fail. It woke him with dazzling light.
‘... I fell asleep.’
Sleeping in a bad posture, his whole body ached. Every time he moved, there was a creaking sound.
However, he had to go to work.
He had to earn money to escape this situation.
Only then could he, his family, all smile.
If he just escaped from this place without color or answer, everything would be fine.
While chewing on the ultimate goal, he headed to the workplace with a tired body in various ways.
‘Today... Should I go to Grandfather right away.’
Today he was too tired. If he went straight home, he wouldn’t be able to endure it.
Lately he hadn’t been able to rest well because he was adapting to the new job. Since the day he told them his name, he hadn’t gone.
That was the only break time.
Tired at work and tired at home, but the only time he could rest.
The family was of one mind—if they escaped here, everything would be fine. While living hard while believing only that, still...
It was inevitable that a slight desire to run away came.
Ryly endured until sunset and immediately headed to the wall where the old man was. With excitement for thinking about learning letters after a long time, he took quick steps.
“... Huh?”
But it wasn’t there.
The old man was nowhere to be seen, and only the traces of the pair of twigs he used instead of pencil every day and the writing on the floor remained.
An old man with only bones left, unable to move properly. An old man who couldn’t eat proper food.
Suddenly, a bad thought came.
The feeling of heart sinking, he grabbed a passing adult and asked, and the answer came as if annoying.
“I don’t know! Probably died of old age... A while ago, some people gathered over there. Maybe they were cleaning up corpses.”
“...”
After he left.
Ryly blankly stared at the wall.
Quietly standing, he traced the old man’s traces one by one.
When they first met, when he first learned the letters. No praise, but the image of silently teaching him.
The feeling at that time was...
It was fine.
It was fine.
It was a common occurrence.
Dying of hunger, dying from beating, dying from work. Places where the dead were overflowing.
As the world was, life and death always intersected, so it was no different.
He didn’t know when he would become like that too.
For now, he didn’t have the strength. It was inevitable.
‘Everyone lives like this. Everyone lives like this. Everyone lives like this...’
The vague memory that came to mind was that powerless, smelly, hoarse voice that came out every time he taught pronunciation.