The Sad Love Story of a Certain Girl - 3 -
The host continued the narration in a clear, resonant voice.
-The boy, now grown, strove to escape his wretched fate. But now it wasn't just his own destiny he fought for—he wanted to make the dreams of that cranky girl, who had tumbled into his life like a crumpled gourd, come true as well.-
The host's voice rang out purely and gracefully, neither stiff nor laden with emotion, just a low, steady tone. Behind the host, scenes played out of the boy and girl bickering playfully. The child actors tugged at each other's hair over a piece of chocolate, their earnest performance drawing laughter from the audience.
"Puhaha! Look at that little rascal!"
"Go, redhead! Win this!"
"Don't lose to that fallen noble!!"
The young lady, hearing the audience's chuckles, wore a displeased expression. Arms crossed, she huffed with a snort and a sigh.
"It's only natural that the strong one gets to eat it! Whether fallen noble or slum rat, the strongest claims the chocolate... No respect for chocolate...!"
-It's only natural that the strong one gets to eat it!-
I couldn't help but burst out laughing at the young lady reciting the exact line from the play.
"Puhaha! Did you sneak in to watch this beforehand? How do you say it word-for-word like that!"
Her face flushed beet red as she clenched her fists and growled "You jerk!" in a mock threat, but it was so adorable that I just smiled faintly and handed her some caramel popcorn from her palm.
"Why!"
"Here, eat."
"Mm. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Before food, she turned into the gentlest lamb, flashing a small smile as she focused back on the play.
"Ricardo."
"Yes?"
"Was I like that too?"
Staring blankly at Lucia on stage yanking the boy's hair, she asked. I shook my head in firm denial.
"You were worse, miss."
"...No way. I never pulled hair. I fought with fists."
"Isn't that even worse?"
"The world of competition is ruthless by nature."
"..."
When it came to chocolate, her sense of justice blazed fiercely.
After our brief exchange, the host stepped back into the spotlight and resumed the narration.
-The boy gave his all for success.-
-He started begging in the slums, fencing pickpocketed goods for small profits, and his wallet began to swell bit by bit. From stolen purses to jewels, from jewels to fine dress fabrics, from dresses to selling a little house—he amassed great wealth. He fought often with Lucia along the way, and she grew jealous of him working nonstop without playing with her, but their bond was tied tight by the unbreakable knot of friendship.
Just that a shy sprout of love had begun to bud in the boy's heart.
That tiny seed of love he harbored grew larger as he aged. In puberty, his face burned seeing Lucia's changing body, or his heart raced gazing at her beautiful sleeping face leaning on his shoulder—these moments tickled his heart hotly.
Guessing it was love, the boy thought:
-I'm in trouble.
What began as pity blossomed into pink-tinged love, and Lucia began watering that little sprout the boy had nurtured.-
-I'm gonna marry a cool guy someday!
-A cool guy...? Who's that?
-A noble, tall, handsome one! Rich would be nice too!
The boy folded his fingers, swallowing a laugh. 'Three out of three. Not bad.'
With the boy's quiet mutter, the child actors vanished behind the curtain. Then the grown protagonists slowly emerged from opposite ends of the stage.
Lucia, once in rags, was now a mature woman in a splendid dress. The boy, turned merchant, strode confidently in crisp merchant's attire.
Spotlights hit them. Bright light bathed Lucia. Dim light shrouded the red-haired boy.
Emotions flickered across their faces under the contrasting glow. Lucia beamed brightly. The boy hung his head in shadow.
The stage opened amid heavy music, but the young lady's expression darkened.
"Your face looks gloomy, miss. Need the restroom?"
"No. My heart just aches for some reason."
"Hm..."
I shrugged, eyeing the boy's shadowed face.
"It'll be fine. Happy ending, right?"
"The title's The Sad Love Story."
"True enough."
In my mind, love always ended happily, but the play barreled toward tragedy. A tale like mine. Circumstances differed slightly, but the emotions rang true. The hurt from indifference. The vain hopes. Seeing the boy tread my old path, I rejected it outright.
I always craved a happy end. So I muttered softly, too quiet to hear:
"I'm different."
I gently pinched the young lady's cheeks as she gripped her hands tight, watching intently, and smiled.
"'Cause I'm handsome, after all."
"Aww...! Why pinch!"
"Just 'cause."
The play pressed on.
-Human bonds never truly break.
-Realizing his love, the boy strove to become the man Lucia desired, but she never noticed him.
Two contrasting stages divided by a curtain wall. Magical stage elements flickered in and out rapidly. Lucia's side: a bright, crowded ballroom. The boy's: a cold, stormy street.
His faint smile as he worked endlessly, jotting in his notebook, seemed happy.
-Once I'm a noble, I'll confess.
That smile, laced with quiet thrill, felt like gazing at my past self. Unpleasantly so.
-Immature Lucia lived content with the small joys the boy gave her.-
-I passed the academy entrance!
-Really...? But we agreed you'd work with me.
-I'll get smart and help you then!
-If you want to go, go.
-Even covering all that tuition alone.
-With more friends, Lucia gradually forgot the boy.-
-When's he coming? It's my birthday today... Did he forget?
-Lucia began drifting away from the boy.
The stage shifted to the boy's room. Excited, Lucia confessed her love to him; he stared back in shock.
-I like someone now.
-...Who? Hope stirring inside.
-Academy third-year Lucas. A noble! Small house, but super handsome...! And kind!
-...Huh? Disappointment crashing.
-Lucia, actually...
-You'll cheer me on, right? Despair settling.
Disappointment etched the boy's face. Hearing the one he'd loved for decades suddenly love another—the mask cracked.
But he couldn't show it. Her happiness was his.
-Cong...rats.
Awkward smile, cheering her love. Bitter grin as he congratulated her—the play hurtled toward its close.
-The boy quietly supported Lucia's love, thinking she'd return someday, focusing on his work.
-To fulfill her dream of becoming a noble, and for his eventual turn, he toiled.
The stage dimmed. Grand music swelled like a storm, fierce winds gusting over the audience.
-Lucia. That guy's dangerous.
-What do you know!
-Please, just listen once! Can't you hear me out?
-Shut up!
Lucia's love was a murderer. The boy accidentally uncovered it and tried pulling her back. Extreme tale, but the chilling performance made it believable.
And the boy...
-See? I told you he was bad.
...died in her place.
Rain-slicked cold street. Blood poured from his gut; Lucia's love lay dead by the boy's hand, a cold corpse.
Dark-faced under faint spotlight, the trembling boy pulled Lucia into a tight embrace.
-Sorry. I hate getting you dirty, but if not today, I never could.
His low, serene voice spread quietly. No anguished wail, just calm depth that immersed utterly. The audience hushed completely.
Blood trickling from his mouth, he spoke in a quavering voice:
-I love you.
Lucia realized her feelings for the boy. Far too late.
*
"...Right?"
"Not crying."
"Pfft."
"Don't tease!"
After the curtain fell, the lingering aftertaste kept her seated, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. The villainess dubbed bloodless even if pricked had a warm heart that melted in love—she sniffled once, shaking her head vigorously.
"Ricardo."
"Yes."
Her voice misty with tears.
"You can't die, Ricardo."
I tugged her cheeks and replied:
"I won't."
Rehabilitation Touch can be reused.
"Never."
I smiled faintly.