Sloth and Dad [5]
I scooped Lulu up, burying her completely inside my oversized hoodie, and stepped out into the living room.
Looking down at the now fluffy, clean child, I tossed out casually,
"Lulu, you're pretty now."
Her eyes went wide at my words, and she asked back,
"Lulu pretty...?"
"Yeah. Super pretty."
With just that, Lulu grinned like a fool, as if she'd conquered the world.
"Heehee... Lulu pretty. Heehee...."
She seemed in high spirits right away, searching for Mimi the moment we entered the living room.
She hugged the doll tight and whispered preciously,
"Mimiii, we're out! Lulu reaaaally pretty, they said."
Watching Lulu brag to her doll, I fell into thought.
Outside the window, the world had already sunk into thick darkness.
For kids her age, it was time for dinner and bed.
But not for Lulu.
...For her, this was wake-up time.
In my memories of her nights, they were always hectic. Dodging harsh glares, she'd rummage through trash only under this blanket of darkness—her sole freedom.
Her napping during the day and sparkling eyes at night stemmed from a brutal survival instinct that had flipped her days and nights completely.
...I want to erase every shadow of darkness from Lulu's world.
So she never has to hide in the night's fringes again. I wanted her to run freely under bright sunlight, to learn how warm the light-filled world truly is. To start, I had to gently reset her inverted clock.
She'd need to make friends later, go out for tasty treats—so this sad habit had to go first.
Just as I pondered putting her to bed, Lulu tugged my clothes hesitantly and spoke up.
"Daddaa... Wanna go outsi-ide, outsi-ide now."
I looked down at her in surprise.
To Lulu, outside wasn't fun. It was a battlefield where she'd risk her life just for rotten scraps to survive.
"Huh? Why outside? It's dark now."
Her eyes sparkled as she replied,
"Ung! Daddaa... Now, gotta go now... This is when fooood reaaaally comes out!"
Her innocent answer stabbed at my chest.
...Has moving at this hour become second nature?
I'd known from her memories, but hearing "fooood" straight from her lips hit with new weight. More familiar with foraging than sleeping. I gazed into those clear eyes looking up at me.
Lulu's face held a strange mix of anticipation and joy—like a kid's thrill at maybe finding a bigger "treasure" tonight.
I stroked her head, pretending nonchalance.
"Huh? We ate bread earlier. Still tons of food left."
She shook her head frantically.
"Nuh-uh! Tomo-rrow's stuff... day-a-fter's stuff... And, and... gotta eat reaaaally lots moooore!"
Her voice was desperate as her tiny fingers wiggled, counting "tomorrow" and "day after."
A full belly now didn't matter. Tomorrow's bread was uncertain; the day after, trash might yield nothing. That vicious uncertainty kept her on these night streets.
...She hoards out of fear of scarcity.
I gave a wry smile watching her. Even stuffed full, her anxiety proved the years she'd endured, weighing heavy on my heart.
"Alright, let's go. But Dad'll find the food, so Lulu show me your favorite spots to play."
"...Huh?"
Her eyes widened at the unexpected offer, staring up.
"I wanna know what you did for fun, where you liked."
Shock flashed in her eyes, then bloomed into a world-conquering smile.
"Ung! Yay! Lulu yay! Lulu tell aaaall! Heehee!"
Overjoyed someone cared about her footsteps. Pride and pity mixed as I scooped her up again.
...Whew.
I smiled outwardly, but a short sigh escaped inside.
"...Not scared? There might be people outside who hurt you before."
She flinched, hugging my neck tighter, but soon shook her head firmly, whispering solemnly,
"Ung! It's okay! Dad stwong! And... Lulu no get caught! Shhh— and Lulu hide reaaaally good!"
A chuckle slipped out at her confident finger-to-lips pose.
Her lifelong secret to surviving unseen? Just hiding well. That was her only defense.
I tapped her nose lightly, murmuring low,
"Don't worry. Dad'll protect you. No more hiding. Even meeting others, don't be too scared, okay?"
Her eyes rounded. No hiding, someone shielding her—it must sound like the world's strangest spell.
"Ung! Daddaa... Heehee, yaaay!"
She burst into laughter, as if my arms were the sturdiest fortress ever.
...Gonna deal with the villagers slowly later.
I itched to shred the memory-haunting humans who'd hurt her, but not at the cost of ruining Lulu's first outing.
"Shall we?"
"Ung! Daddaa, le's gooo!"
She hugged my neck tight.
Feeling her steady little heartbeat, I stepped slowly toward the dark-covered door.
Turning the knob, it creaked, letting in cold night air. Pale moonlight and sporadic village gas lamps stretched long shadows on the ground instead of morning sun.
A scary night for normal kids, but for Lulu, this darkness was her true sanctuary to breathe.
In my arms, she squinted, then turned to our door, gasping sharply.
"Eh...?"
At her gaze's end: the ragged box pile and torn cloths where she'd huddled from rain till yesterday. Outwardly the same miserable trash heap, but inside hid the dream sanctuary we'd just left.
"Hic... hic goone... Wooow..."
She blinked in disbelief. I smirked, tapping her nose.
"Dad's power. Impressive, huh?"
She erupted in giggles, hugging my neck and kicking excitedly.
"Sooo cool! Daddaa reaaaally sooo cool!!"
Her cheers warmed me as I headed to the village center.
But soon my brow twitched faintly.
Lulu laughed in my arms, but her fern-like hands around my neck tightened. Her tiny body began to tremble.
As I turned toward the square, she pressed my shoulder urgently, shaking her head.
"D-Daddaa... N-not hereee... Can't go here...!"
Terror shook her lost eyes.
"This... this place Lulu can't go. Lulu pretty, people get mad... Gotta run, Daddaa. Quick...!"
Her voice quavered wetly.
To Lulu, this vast square wasn't survival ground—it was an execution stage where existing alone earned stones. Normally she'd skulk alley edges like a mouse, but in Dad's arms entering this "forbidden light," instinctual fear exploded.
Her mind said Dad's here, it's fine—but her body remembered bright streets like midday terror: curses for emerging, stones on eye contact, kicks without reason. Trauma etched deep.
I said nothing, just patted her back slow and heavy, stride unbroken. My arms filled with her shakes, but I crossed the square center bolder.
"Lulu, Dad's here. You're not alone anymore."
My low, firm voice made her flinch up at me. I met her teary eyes, smirking.
"No one touches Lulu. No one touches Dad either. Dad's the strongest."
"D-Daddaa... stwong...?"
She blinked. I tapped her nose, adding assuredly,
"Yeah, super. No fear—who'd dare touch my girl? Dad'll handle 'em. Just trust Dad and look around. Got it?"
"...Ung! Daddaa... Heehee, Daddaa stwong...!"
"Not alone" and "Dad's strong"—those simple truths became her sturdiest fortress, after a life of flight. Tension eased; she nuzzled my chest, giggling softly.
Haa... Healing.
Walking with her, I pondered. Not just body scars—the kid twitching periodically in my arms needed someone to mend her shattered heart too.
Early evening streets gathered daytime bustle. Footsteps passed; merchants hurried closing, stalls clattering.
Lulu peered around curiously, head swiveling. No stones, no curses—this unfamiliar peace slowly loosened her.
...Mental stability needed too.
I scanned memories of every passerby. Hunting for someone with the vessel to piece her broken heart, soothe her world-fears.
But this damned village had none. Trash enjoying pain or indifferent; no warm souls to heal her spirit.
Tch, no decent ones as expected.
I shifted strategy, pulling only "Holy Kingdom" info.
Exact location, defenses. If needed, I'd flip the whole place to fetch her perfect caregiver and therapist.
Someone for my girl's dedicated doctor and counselor must be there.
Preaching mercy under gods—they'd be ideal for tending her wounds.
First, tomorrow's food.
I eyed closing stalls carefully.
Lulu's malnourished frame was fragile—one bump from snapping. Not just filling bellies; she needed quality nutrients for bones and organs.
Foods good for growth...
Preservation? Trivial—Sloth Force kept freshness easier than blinking.
Key: picking "real food" harmless in this barren village.
Proteins for growth like meat, milk for strong bones.
I glanced at Lulu in my arms.
Relaxed now, she hugged my neck, peeking at passersby cautiously.
Good, belly's fine. Pre-summon memories held vivid residue: violent vomiting, raging fever from bad food. Alone in cold boxes with Mimi, retching bile, frail body shuddering in agony. Recalling tightened my chest again.
Worried sudden real food might upset her, but she took it fine.
I headed to the village's largest grocer.
Skimmed the young guard's memories—despising weak, pocketing gains. Trash; lost interest quick.
I piled fresh beef for growth, soft bread, soothing milk on the counter.
"Total 100 dong."
His rote tone met my steady gaze as I murmured low,
"...You'll just give it, right?"
"Ah... Yes. I'll... give it free."
Life drained from his eyes. He blanked, packing carefully.
I took the bundle, planting a brief suggestion instead of coin, and left.
"Today's sales ended great."
Behind: "Thank you, come again..." mumbled blankly.
Lulu eyed the "gift," head tilted curiously.
...Enough till morning.
Floating the heavy bundle lightly with Sloth Force beside us, I readjusted Lulu and asked warmly,
"Now, Lulu guide?"
"Ung! Yay! Lulu yay! Lulu tell aaaall! Heehee!"
Thrilled, she hugged my neck, pointing with tiny finger.
"Lulu knooow! I'll show! Lulu know this place good!"
She chattered nonstop: pretty stones here, prime nap spots there, fences with most "fooood" left...
Miserable survival logs became her "world's best sights," introduced joyfully.
"Daddaa! Thereee, stair mi-ta-ba-ba!"
She pointed to dim stairs littered with hard bread crusts someone discarded.
"What's there?"
"Thereee, sometimes kitty this big sleeps! Lulu watch, it goes 'meow' hello? Lulu scared, watch from far... but kitty looook sooo soft!"
Stray cats glimpsed afar as "greeting friends." Her prattle continued.
"And theree light! Night twinkly lights! Day sun suuuper twinkly! Pretty butterflies fly... Lulu sit there, watch butterflies, sleeept."
She wiggled fingers at a just-lit streetlamp. Daytime: warmest sun drawing butterflies, village's brightest nook.
"But scary uncles yell 'go away' if Lulu there... So Lulu watch from faaaar. Hehe."
Even simple sun-naps denied; she admired from cold shade. Yet she hugged my neck tight, babbling like it was epic.
"But now Dad heeere! With Dad, butterflies no scare Lulu? Daddaa, Lulu loooove! Heehee!"
No stones in this night. Inside Dad's mighty fortress, she claimed those once-stolen ordinary scenes as hers.
...Damn.
Hanging on my neck, endless chatter—I chuckled inwardly.
Streetlamp sunbeams, strays—pure bliss for her. Each nose-wrinkle imitation tickled my heart oddly.
Honestly? Adorable.
I brushed her sunken cheek oh-so-gently. Gaunt from starvation, but warm joy transmitted clear.
Bony ridges under fingertips crushed my heart.
...For now, protect this smile first.
"Daddaa, put Lulu down! Lulu walk clop-clop show!"
Eager to trot her spots herself. I relented, setting her down. Gripping one finger tight, she charged ahead on short legs.
Smartly skipping painful-scary memories—only sharing joys, happy moments with Dad.
Pointing to dark corner, eyes shining,
"Heeere, reaaaally big bread crumb! Mimi and me nom-nom! Suuuper tasty!"
Another alley: twig on roadside.
"This! Perfect skewer... Snap. Sad."
Brief pout, then rallied,
"And theree! Found biiiig house? Lulu heave-ho, heave-ho move it? Lulu stwong, huh?"
Calling a ragged rain-box "house," heaving it tiny-bodied—chest stung imagining.
But her eager steps slowed after two alleys. She stopped, patted knees, pouted.
"Ogoo... Lulu legs huuurt..."
Adult-mimic groan hilariously cute. I chuckled, scooping her up.
"Lulu stronger than Dad?"
"Nuuu... Lulu stwong, but legs napping bit."
Lame excuse, face buried in neck—I sat on a bench facing the square fountain.
"Tired showing, huh Lulu."
She hugged my arm, beaming,
"Nuuu! Not tired at aaaall! Heehee!"
Holding her, gazing at fountain, I mused. No negativity in this kid.
My daughter endured hellish years unbowed. Rain or snow, alone; no hate even for stone-throwers.
A miracle unseen in my brief past life or eons in Hell. How does such pure soul exist? Ages witnessing lives, first self-shining one like Lulu. I stroked her soft hair slowly.
This child... and the villagers...
Anger boiled from toes, but I breathed deep. Savor this peace, her trusting smiles just for me.
Cold air brushed cheeks, but Lulu in arms was warmer.
Full darkness cloaked square; lamps flickered shadows long. About to head home—then "useful" voices caught my ear.
I halted, ears perked toward the sound.
"No, it's true!"
"Man, war's raging—why'd the Saintess come here?"
Under lamplight, middle-aged men spat excitedly. First speaker lowered voice aggrievedly,
"True! Heard the captain while cleaning guard post!"
"Even if, why this refugee dump? Nothing here."
"Dunno! But chance. Saintess pities us, blesses—life changed!"
Blessings. Greedy chatter of life flips. No suspicion of vanishings, no unease at village hush—just drooling over golden Saintess fantasy. Vowing to flee this hell via her grace.
I glanced, skimming the first man's memories lightly.
...Ha! Perfect.
Confirmed: real Saintess dispatched from Holy Kingdom heading here. Unbidden grin spread.
"Daddaa... good...?"
Lulu peered curiously. I poked her cheek lightly,
"Yeah. Just right."
No hunting needed. Coming on her own—thanks.
"Home time, Lulu."
"Ung! Daddaa...."
She nestled happily into my chest. My darker-than-night red eyes lingered beyond her path.