Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: It's Not the Child's Fault
Without looking back at the receding street stall,
I tightly wrapped the child in my arms and quickened my pace.
I hated it.
The gazes from those around me,
the suspicion and wariness contained within them,
the inexplicable hostility directed at the child.
All of it was unpleasant.
Just because it was touching the child.
"...".
But,
what I hated the most—
was that this child
was shrinking back as if she had done something wrong.
"It's okay."
"...".
The child quietly regulated her breathing in my arms.
Without slowing my steps, I gently stroked her back.
"It's okay."
I whispered once more.
Slowly,
her shoulders relaxed, and she nestled deeper into my embrace.
That was a relief.
That my clumsy words
could reach her in the form of comfort.
When I shifted my gaze from looking down at the child,
a familiar sign came into view right in front of me.
"The bookstore. We've arrived."
"...".
I grabbed the door handle but hesitated.
Would the bookstore owner
be the same as the others?
Would he look at the child
with those kinds of eyes?
For a moment, I wavered.
I didn't want to see the child shrink back again.
I carefully checked her small face peeking from between the robe.
Our eyes met.
Perhaps because I had suddenly stopped, she looked puzzled.
"?"
"...Hm, how about covering your ears with both hands?"
The child tilted her head for a moment before obediently covering her ears.
Her efforts to cover them with her tiny hands were a little cute.
I pulled the hem of the robe over her face.
"Good job."
"...".
"Sorry. I'm so ignorant, I have no choice but to ask."
As if she could hear my words,
the child, who had been gazing up at me steadily, slowly shook her head.
I turned the door handle.
The door opened with the sound of an old bell ringing.
"Welcome."
"...Yeah."
The same leisurely and calm greeting as yesterday.
The old man stopped sorting books and raised his head.
Our eyes met.
The corners of the old man's mouth curved up slightly.
"You..."
He walked over, passing through the stacks of books.
"You've come again."
"Something came up that I'm curious about."
"I see. What is it?"
For some reason,
a bit of strength entered my hand.
I lowered the hem of the robe a little to reveal the child.
"...How old do you think this child is?"
"...".
A long silence.
I hugged the child tighter.
His wordless gaze felt somehow uncomfortable.
The old man was silent for a while.
Just quietly,
for a very long time.
As if peering not at the child, but beyond her.
The old man, who had been looking at the child, slowly raised his head.
"Not a baby, I see."
"...Is that so?"
That voice
was the same as yesterday.
At his low murmur,
my somewhat tense shoulders loosened.
The old man, who had been looking back and forth between us, let out a light laugh.
"Can't you even tell the difference between a child and a baby?"
"Yeah."
"...Heh heh."
The old man narrowed his eyes slightly and shook his head.
There was no mockery or wariness in that laugh.
It only held the leisure and tolerance of someone who had lived a long life.
"This child is probably... around seven, I would guess."
"I see. So formula milk wouldn't be good for her."
"...You're really learning everything from scratch, aren't you."
I nodded.
The old man let out another empty laugh.
Lowering the corners of his mouth, the old man turned his gaze to the child.
Those eyes
were quiet and deep,
as if holding many things.
"So, the child you picked up was this one."
"You know her?"
"...A little. When you said you found her in the ruins, I had a hunch."
"You did?"
"But you said it was a baby, so I figured it wasn't her."
The old man leaned his head toward the child.
The child hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering the hands that had been covering her ears.
And then,
she gently leaned her head against my chest.
For a brief moment, the old man's and child's gazes crossed.
"...That's fortunate."
"...".
The child nodded.
Was something conveyed just through that short glance and exchange?
It felt a little mysterious.
A brief calm flowed.
As if breaking that calm, the child's stomach growled again.
The sound echoing in the quiet room was louder than expected.
The old man and I
both blinked at the same time.
"Didn't eat breakfast?"
"Yeah. I went to buy some, but they wouldn't sell."
The old man lightly furrowed his brow.
"...By any chance, that food stall next door?"
"Yeah."
"...I see."
The old man nodded slightly and headed to the counter.
The old man sighed and
opened a drawer with familiar movements.
Then he took out something wrapped in a small cloth bundle.
Inside the cloth was a palm-sized piece of bread and a few pieces of dried fruit.
"It's not much, but share it."
"Is that okay?"
The old man nodded and held out the bread toward the child.
"Little miss, it's okay to eat."
"...".
The child hesitated.
Sensing my gaze, she put a little strength into her hand.
I quietly nodded.
Only then did the child cautiously reach out.
Her small hand gripped the bread tightly.
Then, slowly, very slowly, she brought it to her mouth.
"...!"
The child's cheeks flushed a little.
Her eating speed quickened.
The old man chuckled and offered her water from beside the counter.
"Eat slowly. Here, have some water too."
"...!"
"Is this baby food?"
"...You really."
The old man gave a wry smile and shook his head.
"This is just a snack. When a child can chew, they don't need baby food."
"I see. So what should I feed her?"
"...You're truly peculiar. Just give her something mild and easy to digest."
"I don't even know what that is."
The old man chuckled again.
Then he stepped out from behind the counter and headed to the shelves.
A moment later, he returned with
a thick book illustrated largely with human food.
The old man opened the book and showed it to me.
"Here, look. These are foods suitable for children."
"...I see."
I slowly turned the pages.
It seemed to be a book with recipes.
The colorful pictures and complex explanations made my eyes spin.
'Are all these food?'
But,
I didn't even know the names of these foods.
Some ingredients were unfamiliar from the start,
and others, I couldn't even guess how to eat.
After skimming to the end, I closed the book.
"...It's difficult."
"Heh heh, it can be."
"I'll buy this book."
"Go ahead."
The old man opened the drawer again.
He took out a pen and thick memo pad and came over.
"Wait a moment. I'll compile some foods that are easy for beginners."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"No problem."
The old man, carefully turning the pages of the cookbook, paused.
He looked at the child in my arms.
When the old man looked at her, the child set down the dried fruit she was eating.
"...?"
"Little miss, could you wait over there for a bit? This might take a while."
"...".
"In exchange, I'll give you a good book to read as a gift."
The child looked up at me once, then back at the old man.
Her slightly hesitant hand carefully released the robe.
The old man smiled faintly.
"Yes. Come here."
Holding the child, I slowly followed behind the old man.
The old man pulled out a thin book and placed it in the child's hand.
"Here, this one has lots of pictures, so it won't be hard to read."
"...".
The child slowly turned the pages.
As the old man said, it was full of cute illustrations.
The child's eyes sparkled.
"Heh heh, looks fun. All around here are picture books, so read as many as you like."
"...Thanks. I'll pay for it."
"No need."
The old man brought over a chair.
I carefully set the child down on it.
Her gaze, which had been on the book, shook unsteadily toward me.
"I'm watching. I'll be right there."
"...".
The child nodded.
Hearing the sound of pages turning, I stood in front of the counter.
The old man examined the book again, meticulously noting things down one by one.
I gazed down at him steadily.
"...Oh, right. I need to buy writing tools too."
"Is that so? Then I'll give you some when we're done."
"The cost..."
"No need."
The old man shook his head and focused on his notes.
His busy hand gradually slowed.
Instead,
his previously closed lips trembled faintly.
As if he had something to say.
Watching the old man, I spoke first.
"Why?"
"Don't take it too much to heart."
"What?"
"...Not everyone in the neighborhood is like that."
I silently watched the old man.
The old man stared at me for a moment before setting down his pen.
"That food stall owner... has a lot of grudges built up."
"...Against what?"
"Against this child's parents. They did all sorts of awful things to him."
"Awful things?"
The old man let out a low sigh.
He tapped the counter slowly and opened his mouth.
"This child's parents... they were wealthy and had some power."
"They were?"
"Yes. They lorded over everyone like their word was law. Saying anything could be solved with money."
'But in the end, it was all for nothing.'
The old man murmured lowly and continued.
"The stall owner was also toyed with by them, enduring all sorts of oppression and humiliation. They even extorted his shop through vicious means."
"...I see."
"In that process, the owner's wife fell ill and passed away."
I fell into thought for a moment.
If what the old man said was true...
then the child's parents had indeed done wrong.
I could understand the food stall owner's sharp attitude.
But—
"It's not the child's fault."
The old man's gaze slowly rose to meet mine.
I spoke in a slightly firmer voice.
"Why take it out on the child too."
"The child is innocent, but to someone harboring resentment, it doesn't look that way."
"...".
A bit of strength entered my clenched fist.
Not noticing my change, the old man continued calmly.
"You're right. It's not the child's fault. That's why I said it's fortunate that you brought her."
"Fortunate..."
"You may be clumsy, but you have sincere intentions to care for the child."
The old man focused on his notes again.
The sound of the pen moving over the paper
felt heavier and more burdensome than before.
I slowly turned to look at the child.
She was immersed in the book,
flipping through the picture book diligently while swinging her legs.
'...I absolutely can't let it be known that she's the Evil Dragon.'
A small part of my heart sank just a little.