The Boy Who Would Not Let Go
Only a faint moonlight cut through the darkness of the night road.
Fiona, the red-haired adventurer, walked ahead in silence.
Behind her followed a small boy who seemed to carry the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, and beside him, leaning precariously against him, a girl trembling like a leaf.
Logan never let go of Irene's small hand.
From the moment he had found her in that closet, she had clung to him like a lost baby bird, refusing to let go.
Save for the sobs that burst from her at intervals, Irene made no sound at all, and the sight of her pressed down on Logan's heart all the more painfully.
How long had they walked?
At last, the familiar lights of the village came into view.
Fiona stopped in front of Logan's house and gave his shoulder a light tap.
"Well, here we are, kid. If you ever need help with anything... come by the guild anytime."
"Thank you... thank you so much, Fiona."
Logan bowed his head and offered her his heartfelt gratitude. Fiona gave a small nod, then turned and vanished into the darkness.
Logan drew one deep breath, gripped Irene's hand all the tighter, and knocked on his front door.
Creeeak—
The door opened to reveal his mother's face, full of worry.
"Logan! Where on earth have you been until now? Do you know how worried I've been—!"
His mother was about to breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of her son safe and sound when she noticed Irene clinging to his side, her head bowed low, and stopped mid-sentence.
His father came out after her, and at the sight of the two children, his face froze and his mouth shut.
Relief mingled with bewilderment on their faces.
For Logan bringing Irene home in the middle of the night could mean only one thing—a terrible tragedy had struck her family.
Even the young Irene seemed to vaguely sense what the adults' silence meant. She clutched at Logan's clothes all the more tightly and shrank her small body in on herself.
At the sight of her, Logan's heart grew only more desperate. He let go of Irene's hand, ran to his parents, and knelt before them without a moment's hesitation.
"Father, Mother, please!"
"Logan...?"
"Son, what in the world—"
His parents were flustered by their son's sudden action.
The pretty, kind-hearted girl who had always followed Logan around like a shadow.
That she had lost her parents overnight and become an orphan was a tragedy too heartbreaking to bear.
But sympathy alone was not enough to take in a child. Adding another mouth to feed to a household that was already struggling was never a decision to be made lightly.
"Logan... we understand how you feel, but our circumstances—"
His father spoke with difficulty, his voice a tangle of regret and very real concerns.
"I'll take responsibility for everything! Me!"
Logan cried out desperately, his voice trembling with urgency.
"Responsibility? You're still a child. What could you possibly—"
"I'll look after Irene! Housework, work outside—I'll do anything to earn money! So please... please, just let Irene—!"
Tears welled in the boy's eyes, but within them shone an unshakable resolve.
In their son's bearing, his parents sensed something different from usual.
This was no childish stubbornness or tantrum. It was the weight of someone who had already resolved to shoulder something enormous.
"...Logan..."
His mother looked back and forth between her son's pleading eyes and Irene, trembling anxiously beside him, and let out a long sigh. Then she gently took her husband's arm.
"Ahh... dear."
"You... don't tell me..."
"Shouldn't we just think of it as having acquired a daughter-in-law early? Hmm?"
At his mother's absurd but utterly sincere words, a flicker of color briefly returned to Logan's face.
"Mother!"
His father fell silent for a moment.
"....."
His eyes moved from his kneeling son, to Irene, who still could not lift her head, to his wife's face as she watched him.
After a long, heavy silence, he finally spoke.
"...Haah! Fine. All right, I understand. But Logan—these are your own words. *You* must be the one to take responsibility."
"Yes! Yes! Thank you so much, Father! Mother!"
Logan, beside himself with joy, bowed his head again and again. Only then did Irene too offer her thanks in a small voice, though no less sincere for it.
"Th... thank you..."
And so, from that night on, Irene came to live under Logan's roof.
Logan's room had never been large, but now it felt all the more cramped with two children sharing it.
Without a moment's hesitation, Logan gave his bed over to Irene.
"I'm fine sleeping on the floor. You sleep here."
"But Logan....."
"I said it's fine. You've been through so much, haven't you? Lie down and rest for now. I'll bring you something to eat."
When Logan gently laid Irene down on the bed, the tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks once more.
"...Logan... really... sob... thank you... so much... sob...!"
"Don't cry, Irene. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay now. You've got me."
Logan softly patted the small back of the weeping Irene. Her trembling came through his palm, pure and unfiltered.
And to himself, he made a vow, again and again.
He would never let her suffer this kind of grief and terror again.
The powerless boy who had frozen in fear before the monster, unable to do anything—he was dead now.
He would soothe the wounds of the girl who had lost her parents, her home, and been left alone in the world. He would become her shield.
For that, there was nothing he would not do.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
From the next dawn onward, Logan's life changed completely.
A ten-year-old's body was far too frail to endure grueling labor, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through.
He rose before daybreak to draw water from the well and split firewood with his clumsy axe strokes.
Beyond running his parents' errands, he threw himself into any work that might earn him even a pittance.
Weeding gardens around the village, hauling cargo, helping scrub down shops—his small hands never knew a moment's rest.
There was no time to waste. He cut his sleeping hours, and ate whatever he could scrape together, carelessly and quickly.
Only one thought drove him: he had to protect Irene.
And the sense of duty of giving her a better life—that alone was the engine that moved him.
"Logan... I want to help too. Because of me, you..."
After a few days, when she had regained a little of her strength, Irene spoke to him carefully, her face a mix of guilt and heartache. She could no longer simply stand by and watch him suffer for her sake.
"No, Irene. I'm fine. You need to rest more."
Logan forced a smile and steadied her shoulders.
"But..."
"Irene."
He said her name firmly. His eyes held worry, but also refusal.
"O... okay... but don't overdo it, Logan..."
"Don't worry."
Irene had no choice but to nod weakly.
Logan believed she still needed time to recover from the terrible shock and grief she had endured.
Watching her struggle was a far greater pain to him than anything else. Far better that he suffer two or three times over in her place.
But reality was cruel.
No matter how hard Logan drove himself, struggling and straining, the money he earned amounted to little more than enough to keep them fed.
Buying Irene even one warm, pretty dress was all but impossible.
*'This can't go on. It's not enough...!'*
Logan's heart grew more impatient by the day.
He wanted to feed her better food, give her a more comfortable place to sleep. He wanted to see her smile brightly again, the way she used to.
But he was utterly powerless as he was. His firm vow to protect her felt hollow in the face of it.
*'More money... I need more money. And strength, too! Working odd jobs alone won't cut it. There has to be another way... Ah...!'*
In that instant, a face flashed through his mind.
Fiona. If anyone could help him find a way out of this situation, it would be her.
Without hesitation, Logan headed straight for the Adventurers' Guild at the edge of the village.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The moment he stepped inside the old but sizable building, a medley of rowdy noise, sweat, and cheap liquor assailed his nose.
Request forms plastered the walls in a dizzying jumble, and rough-faced adventurers clustered around the tables, chattering and tipping back their mugs.
*'She definitely said she'd be here around this time...'*
Logan scanned the guild's interior, looking around uneasily.
The adventurers' gazes converged on the small boy who had appeared out of nowhere, looking skinny and threadbare.
Curious stares, or openly annoyed ones. It was unusual enough for a commoner brat—not even a noble's child—to set foot in a place like this alone.
And sure enough, an irritated voice rang out.
"Hey, kid. This isn't a place for you to come playing—"
A burly adventurer was scowling and moving toward Logan when—
Grab.
Someone seized the adventurer's shoulder in a firm grip.
The familiar red hair. The moment Logan saw her from behind, color bloomed in his face and he shouted.
"Fiona!"
Fiona turned around. Recognizing Logan, a look of mild surprise crossed her face.
"Kid? What brings you here..."
She had told him to come find her if he needed help when they parted, but she hadn't expected it to be this soon—or to run into him at the Adventurers' Guild, of all places.
Had something gone wrong? The monster raid had been fully dealt with, and the village should have been safe.
Logan ran up in front of her and, once again without hesitation, dropped to his knees.
"Please... take me on as your disciple! Please, teach me anything you can!"
"...What did you say?"
Fiona's eyes went round. The adventurers around them, too, stared at Logan in dumbfounded disbelief. Laughter soon erupted from every corner.
"Kwahaha! Kid, go do your sleep-talking at home!"
"Hey, Fiona! Since when do you take in children's games?"
"Yeah, even if you're the famous 'True Flash' who loves sticking her nose in everyone's business, you really think a Gold-rank adventurer has time to teach a whelp like that?"
The mockery and jeers stabbed at Logan's heart like sharp thorns.
But he did not give up.
Fixing his eyes on Fiona alone, he pleaded with her once more, earnestly.
"I'll do anything! Even the menial work! Please—I need the strength to protect Irene... I need the money to properly care for the person who matters most to me...!"
It was the voice of a boy begging, but Logan's eyes did not waver in the slightest.
Within them burned a conviction and seriousness almost impossible to believe in a child.
In that gaze, Fiona saw the boy from a few days ago, screaming his childhood friend's name with everything he had inside that ruined cabin.
The resolve to do whatever it took to protect what mattered to him. It carried a weight that was anything but light.
And so, a faint smile touching her lips, Fiona said,
"...Heh. All right. I like that look in your eyes."
"...What?"
"I said yes. I'll take you on as my disciple."
"Th... thank you! Thank you so much!"
Overwhelmed, Logan bowed again and again. The surrounding adventurers could scarcely hide their shock.
"He's—he's lost his mind! Unbelievable!"
"True Flash Fiona, taking a disciple? And a brat like *that*?"
"Don't tell me the little ones are your type, Fiona!"
As the commotion swelled, Fiona glared around her fiercely and shouted.
"Shut it, you lot! If you've got nothing better to do, go drown yourselves in more liquor!"
At her withering force, the adventurers—as if they'd never been jeering at all—coughed awkwardly, averted their eyes, and hurried back to their seats.
Watching them scatter, Fiona gave a light snort, then ruffled Logan's hair and spoke.
"Let me make one thing crystal clear, kid. Being an adventurer is no joke. You can *really* die out there. Even so... you'll do it?"
Her words were no exaggeration in the slightest. This world was no game, no story.
Not a romantic fantasy, but the harsh reality in which he lived and breathed.
The life of an adventurer was forever shadowed by danger and death. Even a simple monster-slaying request could cost you your life if you made one wrong move.
It would have been a lie to say he felt no fear.
But in Logan's heart, there was something greater than that fear.
The desperation to protect Irene. The burning longing to give her everything.
And so Logan, without a moment's hesitation—
answered with everything he had.
"Yes!"
With a resolve and determination stronger than he had ever known.
For the sun of his small world.
For Irene, and Irene alone.