The Protagonist Is Always Busy (2)

After finishing our meal, we climbed into the limousine. Eri sat by the window, completely silent. The girl who had been aggressively tearing through lobster just moments ago was now staring blankly out the window.

Is she sleepy because she's full? Or is it...

Her profile looked strangely familiar. It felt like someone I had seen in my past life...

Who was it? One of the residents...?

Wondering about Erika's state of mind, I turned to look out the opposite window. The limousine left Civitas Square behind and began its ascent toward Sanctum Hill.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

At that moment, Erika's mind was in a state of utter chaos.

Waking up in a noble's annex, witnessing a transaction involving astronomical sums of money, and stuffing herself with an overwhelming abundance she had never even dared to imagine—everything she had experienced today felt like a dream.

Yet, even in this dreamlike space, the head butler's questions about her "qualifications" had been more than enough to drag her back to reality.

I think I finally understand why Uncle Tao did what he did.

The undisputed ruler of the Red-Light District, the Slum Boss—Wangcho, Tao Chen.

One could not conquer that place with fists alone. The slums, where the dregs of society gathered, were always filled with malice that defied imagination.

To become the master of such a place—of the Red-Light District—meant possessing a corresponding level of ruthlessness and cunning.

Thus, Erika knew. She knew just how shrewd, sly, and, when necessary, brutal that man could be, despite how he always grinned like an idiot in front of Julian.

And the people of the Red-Light District still remembered. That day, in the dead of winter, during the heavy snowfall. The story Wangcho had spread as a warning.

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Erika knew this rule all too well. It was the very rule that had saved her life when she was feared as the "Vampire's Bastard."

The mid-level manager had simply been an idiot; the people of the Red-Light District understood the underlying nuance of "children do not work in the brothels." Whatever it was, do not touch the children.

That was why, even though people considered Erika an ill omen, they never dared to do anything worse than occasionally strike her.

Was it out of fear of a Blood Fiend's vengeance? No. It was out of fear of the Red-Light District's master.

And even deeper, it was out of fear of the mysterious "person" whom the master himself dreaded.

Thanks to this, Erika, who had been living in hiding, had at least been able to move around at night starting a year ago. Yet, Erika herself had known nothing about this "person" who protected her. Until a few days ago.

It was the Doctor.

Erika felt all the pieces finally falling into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place.

Wangcho hadn't changed the rules on his own. Director Schnabel had laid down the law, and Wangcho had simply obeyed. Why? It couldn't just be because Director Schnabel was a major client who utilized Wangcho's slaughterhouse.

With the Doctor's daily income...

A man like him could easily buy Wangcho's life.

No, he wouldn't even need to buy it.

If a noble hunted down a slum dweller, they would only have to pay a paltry fine. No matter how powerful Wangcho was as the master of the Red-Light District, to a noble of Sanctum Hill, he was nothing more than a passing ant.

"A dog doesn't need to question the food placed in its bowl."

She finally understood the meaning behind the words Wangcho constantly repeated.

As long as you stayed quiet and breathed next to him, sweet honey would fall into your lap. But if you got greedy for no reason, you could end up as a "John Doe" floating down the sewer the next day.

She now understood why a man as ruthless as Tao Chen acted like a puppy showing its belly in front of this man.

Loyalty was born of fear. Only after understanding them did her fractured sense of reality begin to return.

And a man like that made me his assistant?

A chill ran down her spine.

At first, she thought it was a golden rope thrown down to save her. A lifeline to escape ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the gutter. But now, that rope looked like a gallows.

Then where am I standing right now?

Erika looked down at her hands.

A sense of superiority from suddenly granted power? That was a feeling you could only enjoy when you actually knew how to wield it. This was like asking a child to swing a greatsword. And if swung incorrectly, that greatsword could easily cleave her own body in two.

If I make a mistake, will this man do to me what Wangcho did to...?

There was a proverb: "A rope woven of gold is also fit for hanging."

It was the perfect proverb to describe her current situation. The rope pulling her up was shaped perfectly to slip around her neck.

And according to that proverb, the price of her mistake might not end at the slaughterhouse. No, it could be far more dangerous. The higher one soared, the more gruesome the fall that awaited them.

Just as these thoughts began to choke the breath out of her—

"You're going to get indigestion."

Julian's voice suddenly cut through her thoughts. With a jolt that made her heart drop, Erika snapped her head toward him.

"W-what?"

"Why the sudden formal speech?"

"I-I'll only use it today. So, what is it?"

"...Your expression looks awful. I figured you ate too quickly."

Julian rested his chin on his hand, looking out the window. "Eat slowly next time. The food isn't going to run away."

Instantly, goosebumps broke out across Erika's skin. The words Wangcho had reportedly said to the purged manager echoed in her ears:

[When you're trying to survive, greed is only natural.]

Her own image, greedily devouring lobster without knowing her place. Had this man seen her filthy appetite as a form of greed unbecoming of nobility?

Erika hurriedly bowed her head.

"...I-I'm sorry. I will never... be greedy again."

"...It wasn't something that warranted that kind of reaction, though."

Erika replied in a barely audible whisper. Julian's response didn't register in her ears. No, even his casual reply sounded like a warning that she did not belong in this space. The terror of being discarded at any moment squeezed her heart.

It was then that Julian stepped into the gaps of her consciousness once more.

"Come to think of it, I was like that once too."

"Pardon...?"

Julian's gaze remained fixed outside. The gas lamps of Sanctum Hill were beginning to flicker to life one by one. Their soft glow cast gentle shadows across his face.

"I am an adopted son of this family. It's different now, but there was a time when I was treated like a foreign object."

Erika's eyes widened. It was the last thing she expected to hear. Judging by the treatment he received at the mansion and the head butler's attitude at the restaurant, she had assumed he was a biological son.

"Everyone else is laughing and chatting elegantly, while you feel like you're floating in midair. Like anyone could replace you at any moment."

Julian let out a soft chuckle and turned to look at Erika. "The first time I rode in a luxury carriage like this, it took my breath away too."

"Y-you experienced that too, Doctor?"

"Of course. How could I not know the sorrow of an interloper?"

Julian shrugged. His grey eyes held a playful yet somehow bitter light. "The more you feel that way, the more you need someone to tell you why you belong here."

"..."

Julian tapped his fingers against the window frame. "If you don't know why you're here, you burn out quickly. You end up wearing yourself away, constantly walking on eggshells around everyone else."

Erika bit her lip. That was exactly her current state.

"So, let's make things clear."

Julian's half-closed eyes focused on Erika. His gaze was warm, yet carried a faint trace of nostalgia. "Why do you think you became my assistant?"

"Uh... because I can feel that strange energy inside people's bodies?"

"Right. That's one reason."

Julian nodded. He held up one finger, then uncurled a second. "But there's another reason. You survived Limbus Pit."

"Why does that..."

"When you only look up, you can't see what's beneath your feet."

"..."

"And if you don't know what's beneath your feet, you're bound to slip eventually."

Julian let out a faint yawn. "I happen to have a personality that can't rest unless I know exactly where my feet are planted."

Erika chewed on his words. Looking beneath one's feet. She understood that. But why her, of all people?

"...Is that why you need me?"

Erika was surprised by the words that escaped her own mouth.

Julian turned his head. His half-lidded eyes locked onto her. "To see what's beneath your feet, you need eyes that grew up down there," Julian replied in a calm, steady voice.

"Eyes raised in Sanctum Hill can't see Limbus Pit. The same goes for Wangcho. He has already climbed too high."

Julian turned his gaze back to the window. "But you're different. You survived down there."

Erika stared at him blankly.

The fact that she had grown up there. That she had survived by licking blood off the slaughterhouse floor. That she had spent shivering nights huddled beside trash fires. Did all those shameful memories actually hold value to this man?

"...Is that really useful?"

"Of course it is." Julian chuckled.

"Without you, our clinic wouldn't even function anymore. And you yourself are valuable enough. You're the one who detected malaria in our last patient. Do you think Wangcho could have done that?"

Erika couldn't answer. Something warm and overwhelming welled up deep inside her chest.

Until now, her existence had always been a curse. The Vampire's Bastard. A blood-craving monster. A filthy thing. Someone who shouldn't exist. Someone who ought to disappear.

Yet, this man denied all of that. He called it a talent, not a disease. He told her she was here not out of pity or sympathy, but because she was needed.

Ah.

Only now did she understand the old butler's words. They hadn't been a test of her qualifications.

[If the clothes are too big, you simply have to grow into them.]

[You just need to work hard until you fit in.]

He was saying it was fine if she didn't fit in right now, and that she just had to work hard until she did. And it meant she had the right to make that effort.

"...I understand," Erika said softly. "I just have to watch your step for you, Doctor."

Julian looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Yes. So, I'll give you your second assignment."

Julian pointed at her. "Stop walking on eggshells and using formal speech all of a sudden. What I want is a partner, not a servant."

In that instant, Erika's heart pounded. She had been acknowledged. To her, who had absolutely nothing, this towering figure had granted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a sense of belonging.

The weight of it was so heavy, yet so incredibly warm, that Erika bit her lip without realizing it.

"...Yes—no, I got it." Erika forced herself to use her usual casual tone. She couldn't hide the slight tremor at the end of her voice, but she could fix that over time. "If you trip, Doctor, I'll be the first to catch you. I know the ground of Limbus Pit like the back of my hand."

"Good. That's more like it." Julian chuckled. Leaning back against the window frame to close his eyes, he murmured softly, "Whenever you doubt why you're here, just tell me. I'll remind you anytime."

Soon, Julian drifted off to sleep with his arms crossed. Silence enveloped the limousine.

Erika quietly gazed out the window. The distant sky above the smog was still beyond her imagination. She didn't know if she dared to fly anywhere near such a place, let alone covet it.

But she was no longer afraid. Because she finally understood what this man wanted from her. The moment she could comprehend it, the moment she felt understood, it was no longer an object of fear.

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As food coma washed over me, I closed my eyes in the carriage and thought: Why on earth is she stressing over something like that?

I had suspected Eri was feeling intimidated, and talking to her confirmed it. No wonder she was eating so poorly compared to when we first walked into the buffet.

I knew I'd seen that look somewhere.

It was exactly like the symptoms I experienced back in medical school and during my residency. In medical circles, we jokingly call it "altitude sickness"—a condition that manifests when the world you live in suddenly changes.

It's not that your actual world changes, but rather that you find yourself surrounded by so many brilliant people that you start feeling incredibly small. Especially right after the college entrance exams, when you join those ranks, you can't help but feel utterly insignificant.

Or was it just me?

Maybe it hit me harder because I came from a dirt-poor background. If these thoughts worsen, they manifest as "imposter syndrome." It's a very common affliction among residents and graduate students.

Who am I? Where am I? That pretty much sums it up. You constantly worry that you're tricking everyone, feeling like people rate you far higher than your actual abilities warrant.

And then, you just want to run away before you make a massive mistake and expose your incompetence.

There's a reason why protagonists in misunderstanding-themed stories always make running away their ultimate goal.

If you don't address imposter syndrome early on, it spirals into a vicious cycle. Everyone else seems to be doing perfectly, while you—the luck-reliant protagonist of a misunderstanding comedy—feel like you'll never measure up.

Since you don't trust your own abilities, you start making actual mistakes, which leads to wasting unnecessary effort, tanking your efficiency, and eventually burning out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until you try to avoid work altogether.

We actually had a resident run away because of that.

Back in my past life, when I was a fellow, a new resident joined general surgery. He convinced himself he'd only gotten in through sheer luck, and sure enough, his mistakes started piling up.

Seeing my own greenhorn days in him, I went out of my way to look after him. But lo and behold, one day the guy vanished without a word.

I still vividly remember chasing him all the way to Tsushima Island, buying him sushi, and dragging him back to the operating room.

Chunsik, my boy. Are you doing well out there?

...Come to think of it, to him, I must have looked like some crazy magic tower master trying to put a collar on him. Wow! "Chunsik's Misunderstanding Fantasy"! Complete! Anyway, enough digressing.

Sigh. I can't exactly go on a manhunt in this world too.

Maybe the original Erika had a runaway event in the novel. But I have absolutely no desire to experience that. I want to enjoy the perks of a misunderstanding fantasy, not faithfully reenact the grim original story.

To prevent that, I need to constantly remind Erika that she's here because of her skills, not luck. In short, if your neighbors are the Joker, Batman, and Two-Face, you need to keep reminding yourself that you're at least Scarecrow.

Eri, you really are that good.

You're as precious as insulin, colchicine, and quinine. The talent of a magic caster isn't something you find on every street corner. You're basically the equivalent of a state-of-the-art MRI machine.

In that sense, I couldn't quite fathom why she was reacting like this.

Well, I suppose it's a classic trope of misunderstanding stories.

The classic trope: there's always an unpolished gem nearby who completely underestimates their own worth. It's a necessary plot convenience so the protagonist can discover them and coast through life on their talents.

Thinking of it that way, a little lip service was nothing. Isn't it a protagonist's duty to polish a rough diamond into a brilliant gem?

She barely ate anything today because she was so intimidated.

I made a mental note to take her to another buffet next time and feed her until she burst. Or maybe I'd just rent out an entire restaurant so she could eat without worrying about anyone else.

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Before long, the gentle vibration of the limousine's engine subsided. As the vehicle came to a halt, Erika, who had briefly drifted off, opened her eyes.

A grand mansion came into view.

The limousine door opened. Julian stepped out first, and Erika followed closely behind. Walking in his shadow toward the mansion, she whispered softly under her breath,

"...Thank you."

Julian didn't hear her. Or even if he had, he would have brushed it off as nothing.

That night, for the first time, Erika slept in the annex without a single nightmare. The down blanket was unbelievably warm.