The Reason I Cling to Justice
A hazy dream rose like mist, belonging to someone. In the dream, its owner crouched by a sewer clogged with filth, tossing in pebbles.
The girl in the dream was small and frail. Her silver hair shimmered like the Milky Way scattered across the night sky, and she huddled her delicate shoulders, as if she might vanish at any moment. Gloomy. A girl for whom everything was unfamiliar.
Plop. As the pebble splashed into the sewer, she sniffled.
"Mommy..."
For the girl abandoned by her parents, the world was overwhelmingly vast. Though cold, the world protected by her parents had been her everything. The curses calling her dirty, the pitying coins dropped on the ground—they had all felt scary and daunting to her.
The girl was always full of hope. She believed her parents would come fetch her after just one night of sleep. That's what they had promised, even as she clung to their hands, refusing to let go.
She comforted herself that she was different from those grubby kids, circling the spot where her parents had left her like an abandoned puppy.
"Why aren't you coming..."
From outside came the voices of children laughing and playing. She didn't want to hear their joy today, chattering about how their coin pouches were full. What was there to be happy about? It was money that would vanish after buying a single toy. She couldn't understand them. It was far too little to escape the slums.
As her sniffling grew harsher amid the darkening mood—
Tap. A touch landed on her head. Timid yet tender, heartless yet warm, playful fingers from someone.
The girl rubbed her stinging scalp with her palm and whipped around.
"Who's there!"
"Who else? The handsomest guy in the world."
A red-haired boy stood before her. His face was shrouded in shadow, hard to make out, but the warmth radiating from him and the mischief in his voice told her he was smiling.
The boy grinned and said to her,
"Hey, kiddo. What're you doing?"
"Mind your own business."
"Wow, prickly. Just like a main character, huh."
"What!"
"Nah, just saying you're cute as always~"
The boy brushed off her sharp reaction with an easy smile, unfazed. Most kids would have backed off at her hostility, but not this red-haired one.
The girl hated the boy. She hated how the grubby kid kept talking to her, acting all friendly and closing in.
You're different from me. I'm not like you abandoned ones.
She thought that as she pushed him away, but—
"Spot next to you's empty, huh?"
Clueless or not, the boy cracked a light joke and plopped down beside her. She ignored his wry smile as he sat on the damp ground.
For a girl to whom everything was new and strange, cold rejection was all she could manage.
The boy sat quietly beside her for a long while, saying nothing, then started humming a tune.
"Mommy in the island shade..."
The unfamiliar song from the boy didn't sound bad.
"Mommy off to gather shellfish in the island reeds..."
It was poignant, tugging at her heartstrings. Not sung well, but somehow it lingered in her ears, impossible to ignore.
"Baby left alone to watch the house."
The girl just hugged her knees and listened.
"The waves sing lullabies... la la la~ Cough!"
Puberty hitting already? The girl hated the boy. She hated how he kept acting chummy.
And yet.
The girl liked the boy. As his hummed tune faded on that melancholy note, she turned to look at him.
"Sing pretty good, huh?"
"Terrible."
"You'll get better next time."
The boy flicked her forehead and smiled.
"Hey, kiddo."
As always, he pulled a chocolate from his pocket and offered it. His grimy, worn hands holding the smudged wrapper didn't repulse her.
"You eat it. Just you."
*
Late evening. Mikhail woke from sleep, wiping sweat from his brow, his breath ragged.
That dream again. The nightmare of old memories, always hiding its face. He'd thought it gone after a long hiatus, but it knocked just when he dared to forget, pounding his heart with sad recollections today as well.
It was ancient history. Over ten years by the calendar, yet it still tormented him.
"Enough... just stop coming already."
How long are you gonna keep this up? It's time to quit. I know. I'm a bad guy. But... I have to live my own life too...
Mikhail hugged his knees on the bed, burying his face. His shoulders trembled as if tears would spill if he let go of his emotions; he kept exhaling and inhaling deeply.
"Huuu... huu..."
His past sins weighed heavily on him. The slum kid abandoned by his parents. The kind red-haired boy who always called him "kiddo"—that gentle figure breathed vividly in his memories. And the guilt over what he'd done to that boy only grew.
His vow never to kill again with his own hands, his pathological obsession with justice—it was all atonement for his crime, nothing more.
He knew it. How pathetic his stubbornness was. And that Ricardo's words were realistic advice.
"Are you an idiot?"
He knew the blunt words cut to the bone as advice. But he had his unyielding stubbornness too.
"Run away!"
"..."
"Don't just stand there—run...!"
All he could cling to, after failing to protect the boy's final moments and fleeing, was this crude resolve.
"Haa..."
Mikhail slowly peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt. It slipped down his slender shoulders and dropped to the floor with a soft thud, baring his pale nakedness.
His skin was porcelain white, his body too delicate and alluring for a man's—almost seductive. Mikhail gazed at his reflection in the mirror.
"..."
Silent, head bowed, just staring at himself.
Maybe a walk to clear his stuffy mind. He grabbed a bandage from the desk and began wrapping his chest.
He watched himself bind it deftly in the mirror, a bitter smile crossing his lips at his reflected form.
"...Feels so stuffy."
*
"Eek! Hehehe!"
Today's mansion was peaceful as ever. The lady tossing a rubber ball to Gomtangi in the yard grinned wickedly, doing arm exercises.
"Bring it back!"
"Gom!"
"Hee!"
Impressed as Gomtangi boomeranged back with the ball, the lady looked thrilled.
Ricardo couldn't do this. Her comparing me to a dog irked me, but I wasn't petty enough to rise to such petty bait, so I smiled faintly and surveyed the broad yard.
"Give it a toss."
"Yeah."
"As far as you can. I'll prove the difference between a lowly dog and a human."
"Oka...y!"
It was for human dignity, so surely some leniency? To fetch the ball faster than Gomtangi, I set my sword down and coiled power in my legs.
"Hnnngh! Hraaaah!!"
The lady bellowed, and the rubber ball soared. I swallowed hard and sprang—
Thud.
I stared awkwardly at the ball that fell limply to the ground.
The lady eyed it sheepishly too.
"Um..."
Seeing my disappointed look, she flashed an awkward smile.
"Hiet!"
"..."
Our gazes met awkwardly. Too much enthusiasm is a bad thing, huh? As I bent to pick up the ball, grateful for the unexpectedly fine lesson—
Woof!
Gomtangi wagged his tail happily, snatched the fallen ball, and trotted to the lady.
"That damn mutt."
"Pfft. You lost to Gomtangi."
"Toss it again."
The lady kept throwing until her arms cramped.
"Stop...!"
"No."
"Hiiiik!"
*
Hans was shedding tears of emotion.
"Magic...!"
The magic tome Hans received wasn't anything extraordinary—at least, not by Ricardo's standards, who knew plenty. But it had been one destined for heretic hands.
For Hans, the Archbishop of Greed with his fanatical obsession for magic, it was a tome he'd hunted down over ages.
Or perhaps "returned to its owner" was more accurate.
The most troublesome spell plaguing the protagonists in the original tale, the pinnacle of barrier magic.
Hans, clutching this tome, swallowed tears and swore fierce loyalty.
And.
"Hmnya..."
Olivia watched the hidden Hans.