Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Reunion
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Chik, chik.
A familiar sound.
The idle spin of a lighter's flint, spitting out gas.
"Chik chik... fire... cold, ugh......"
My old man.
A beast no different from any other, his brain pickled in booze.
He was clamping a cigarette between his trembling hands.
I watched from a corner of the ceiling,
arms crossed,
looking down.
A familiar dream.
Tok.
The lighter slipped. Always at the exact same moment.
Right onto the blanket, sodden and reeking of spilled liquor.
Next to it, a soju bottle overturned mid-drink, pouring out steadily.
Whoosh!
The flames spread in an instant.
Red tongues flicked out, coiling around my old man's body.
"H-hot... hooot...! Fire! Kyaaak!!"
My old man rolled around, screaming.
I clicked my tongue.
'Burns nice. Must be toasty.'
The flames didn't stop.
They burst through the front door, devoured the hallway, and spread to the next apartment.
"Fire!! Run away!"
"Daddy! Daddyyy!!"
Hell on earth.
The neighbor guy bolting out in just his underwear, cursing all the way.
A little kid trapped in the corner of a room, sobbing into a teddy bear.
An elderly couple crushed under the collapsed ceiling, hands clasped as their bodies shattered.
They were innocent.
Their only crime was the bad luck of living in the same building.
And so,
Kikik.
The fleeing man halted and turned back.
The crying child raised its head.
Those pitch-black, hollow sockets—eyes burned clean of whites—all fixed on me at once.
[ It's all your fault. ]
[ Take responsibility. Come with us. ]
So, being resented was inevitable.
I yawned.
"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and get it over with."
They closed in. Reaching out with burning hands,
faces melting as they grabbed for me.
Splatch.
The neighbor's hand reached me first.
His palm's skin adhered to my ankle, clumping stickily.
Like melted cheese, hot and gooey.
Then the kid hugged my waist.
Bloody tears streaming from its eyes trickled down my belly, searing the flesh.
The old couple crushed my shoulders.
Their crumbling, ashen flesh rained down my nape.
The sensation of charred meat pressing in from all sides.
Heat that choked the breath from my lungs.
"What do you want me to do about it, you bastards? I'm dead too."
I waved them off lazily.
.....
Normally, I'd wake up around now, or the scene would shift.
But.
"......?"
Something's off. Today of all days, it's unusually
"......hot?"
My ankle feels like it's being severed. My waist like it's snapping.
Vivid, razor-sharp pain drilling into my bones.
The sizzle of my entire back cooking like pork belly on a hot griddle.
...Even the smell of grilling meat.
This is definitely a dream, but something's wrong...
[ Hey! Open your eyes! You fucker! ]
Slap!
A powerful smack across my cheek. My eyes flew open.
"Hahk! Heok, heok......"
Acrid smoke stabbed into my lungs.
"You with us, kid?!"
Someone was running while holding me.
I dangled limply against his chest like a sack of goods.
"Ah... kuaak......"
My entire back felt like it was being seared with a red-hot branding iron.
The right half of my face burned as if it were melting away.
"Damn, if I'd been a second later, you'd be a lump of charcoal."
Kain clicked his tongue and pushed through the crowd, still carrying me.
I groaned in agony and looked down at my body.
My clothes were charred and fused to my skin,
and the flesh peeking through was cooked bright red, oozing pus.
My face was probably no better.
Fuck. Gonna be scarred for life.
Already a beggar, and this halfway-decent face was my only asset.
Irritation boiled up.
Kain stopped in a safe spot. But he didn't set me down.
Hanging from his arm, I craned my neck with effort.
"......Ha."
What a spectacle. A massive inferno was devouring the building.
South Gate Tavern. My home. My shitty little shop.
Wooden buildings were a liability, alright.
One spark, and the whole thing goes up like tinder.
No fire brigade in this backwater dump either.
Then, amid the flames at the entrance, I spotted a familiar lump.
"......Four-eyes."
His lower half was gone.
Crushed by something, or maybe the fire took it first.
Everything below the waist was charcoal, and his upper body dragged along the ground, arms outstretched.
As if trying to block someone.
And beside him,
"Aaak! Aaaak!!"
A beastly wail. It was Beat.
Her hair singed off, clothes torn away, she rolled on the ground shedding bloody tears.
Cradled in her arms: a black lump of charcoal.
Noah. Or Noy. One of the twins.
"My baby! My babyyy!! No! It's hot! Aaak!!"
Beat screamed like a maniac, rubbing the charred baby corpse against her chest.
Forcing its mouth onto her withered, dried-up breast.
"......"
What a sight.
Beat, lost in frenzy, lifted her head.
Her blood-streaked eyes wandered the air until they found me.
Me, nestled in Kain's arms, staring back at her.
"......"
"......"
Our eyes met. Hers were screaming.
[ Why'd you survive? ]
[ My kid's burned to ash. Why are you the only one alive? ]
Resentment. Hatred. The exact same glare as those corpses in my dream.
I met her gaze flatly.
What're you staring at, you crazy bitch?
Did I start the fire? I'm the one with my skin peeling off in agony right now.
I started to snort in derision, but my cracked lips stung, twisting my face in pain.
I glanced at the blackened charcoal lump in her arms and muttered.
"No more... titty time, huh."
Who's gonna feed me now?
Rinea's dead. Master's dead.
And Beat's glaring at me like she wants to kill me.
"What a... ugh. Spectacular life......"
I panted ragged breaths at the roaring flames.
Cold sweat poured like rain, stinging my wounds.
My groans made Kain scowl.
"Quit talking. You're heavy."
"......Who asked you to pick me up..."
"Me. I said go into that fire pit and drag your ass out."
Why's this guy just standing there not moving, anyway?
The pain's killing me. Everything's spinning.
If you're gonna do this, just hurry up and take me somewhere...
In my fading vision,
Clop clop—!
"Kain!!"
"...! Over here! Miss!!"
Cleaving through the noisy crowd,
a baggage cart appearing out of nowhere was the last thing I saw
before I blacked out.
Kaintrea Ducal Mansion.
Crack—!
A sharp crack split the air of the vast, silent study.
"......"
Sharl's head snapped to the side.
Her pale cheek swelled red in an instant, but she didn't even scream.
She just bit her lip hard and turned back to stare straight ahead.
Before her loomed a massive mahogany desk.
And behind it,
the ruler of the south and head of the Kaintrea family.
Her father, Derek de Kaintrea, stood there.
"How dare you."
The duke's voice was low, but its weight surpassed thunder.
"Not content with sneaking in and out past my eyes, you even peddle the family name on the streets?"
His finger tapped the desk. Tok, tok.
The steady rhythm squeezed Sharl's heart.
Here's what happened.
When Kain pulled that guy out of the fire,
even from afar, his condition looked dire.
Like someone tossed whole onto a grill and yanked off.
His body melting, blood dripping to the ground.
Left alone, he'd die,
and Sharl—drawing from her slum jaunts—knew no decent doctor lurked nearby.
So she seized a cart.
Conveniently parked nearby, a merchant caravan halted to gawk at the blaze.
Laughing over others' misery—she charged right up.
[ By the name of Kaintrea, I command! ]
[ Hand over that cart now! ]
Leon made it to the mansion and clung to life,
but her secret outings were broadcast to the world,
and straight to her father's ears.
"Answer me, Sharl."
The duke asked coldly.
"You threw the ducal family's honor in the mud for a single lump of filth?"
"......It's not filth."
Sharl replied clearly.
"It's my toy."
"Toy?"
"Yes. I claimed it. So I couldn't let it get broken."
"Ha."
The duke let out a disbelieving scoff.
"Picked up a slum rat as a toy? And one half-charred to death?"
"Just keep it alive, and it'll be useful. I guarantee it."
"I don't need your guarantee."
The duke sank back into his chair.
He drew a cigar thicker than his finger from a drawer, clamped it in his mouth,
and snipped the end with his personal cutter.
Chiiik.
A match rasped to life, igniting it.
He inhaled deeply and exhaled a long plume into the air.
Thick gray smoke drifted between father and daughter.
"Tomorrow at dawn, toss that hideous thing back in the trash heap."
A flat tone. Casual as discarding a spent quill.
"No."
Sharl shot back instantly.
"It's mine. I saved it. I brought it here."
"I am master of this mansion. I won't allow rotting filth inside my home."
The duke's firm refusal.
But instead of yielding, Sharl twisted the corner of her mouth upward.
"Then give me the annex."
"......What?"
"It's where 'new guests' come and go every night anyway, right?"
Sharl's silver eyes bored straight into her father's.
"Among all those women Father drags in, hiding one more rat...
Who'd notice? It'd go unseen."
And Sharl added with a soft smile.
"In my eyes anyway, those women and the stinking rat are
both just 'trash'."
"......"
For a moment, the duke's hand froze. The rising cigar smoke scattered in the air.
His brow furrowed deeply.
"......You think you can play word games with me?"
Ugh. His grip tightened on the cigar.
"The annex is mine too. Every building under the Kaintrea name is my domain,
and without my permission, not even an ant gets in."
"...Understood. If that's how Father wants it,"
Sharl bit her lip once,
"then I'll have Kain take him."
She'd use a trick she'd picked up somewhere, from someone.
"Kain's quarters are in the guard sector behind the mansion—no chance it'd catch Father's eye."
"...Your bodyguard."
The duke eyed his daughter with displeasure.
He pondered briefly,
"......Fine.
Your toy can roll wherever, so long as it stays out of my sight."
He tapped ash into the tray and nodded.
Permission granted. A relieved smile nearly bloomed on Sharl's lips when,
"However, that's separate."
The duke's voice snagged her ankle.
"Your crime of sneaking through rat holes behind my back must be punished."
"......"
"This proves exactly why the 'rules' you despise are necessary.
I've seen crystal clear how an uncontrolled young lady stains the family name."
The duke twisted his lips into a cruel smile.
She hated to admit it,
but Sharl thought that face looked eerily like her own usual expression.
"If you're caught sneaking out like this even once more."
He blew smoke right at her face.
"Then we'll resume talks of your engagement."
"......!!"
Sharl's shoulders twitched.
She clenched her jaw until her teeth ground,
"......Noted."
She spat curtly, turned on her heel without a bow, and stormed out of the study.
Bang!
The heavy door thudded shut, plunging the study into silence.
Derek slowly puffed his cigar, staring at the closed door.
"Impudent brat."
But a strange glint shone in his eyes.
That exchange with his daughter just now.
[ In my eyes anyway, those women and the stinking rat are ]
[ both just 'trash'. ]
Pfft. A scoff slipped out.
Poking at her father's dirty laundry to create an opening,
[ then I'll have Kain take him. ]
Slipping in a fallback through the gap?
And ultimately securing ownership of that slum brat.
"Not bad at all. I like it."
He didn't dislike that cunning so like his own. No, he was impressed.
That was only fitting for Kaintrea blood.
But admiration was one thing; discipline another.
He was the family head leading the Kaintreas, and at the same time, father to that tomboy.
The family rules—and his pride as a father—wouldn't let it slide.
Hence, the 'engagement' card.
Cowardly perhaps, but negotiation basics: seize the opponent's weakness and shake.
And Derek knew his daughter's weakness precisely.
Derek smirked and sank deeper into his chair.
But the smirk faded quickly as he cocked his head.
"Still, why the utter disgust?"
The second son of the Verman marquis house. Every lady in south high society drooled over him.
Sculpted features, superb swordsmanship, impeccable lineage.
Objectively, the perfect match.
"Is our daughter's bar set too high?"
Well, with a father like him, anything less might not measure up.
Then a remark from Sharl earlier resurfaced.
[ It's my toy. ]
[ I reserved it. I decided to keep it. ]
"......No way."
Derek's eyes narrowed.
Ignoring a flawless prince,
yet so fixated on a half-burned slum rat?
No, surely not.
His daughter couldn't have such poor taste.
Just a curious toy, or pity for a wretched beast.
"But if, hypothetically."
The duke crushed his cigar into the ashtray.
The red ember crumbled to black amid the smoke.
If Sharl saw that rat not as a toy,
but as a 'male'.
"......Then I'll tear it apart with my own hands."
For now,
he'd watch if the thing even clung to life.