The Story of How I First Met That Man -3-
Mikhail knew nothing about the world.
"What's that?"
"What? That statue?"
"Yeah, that one."
"It's the emperor. The first emperor."
He could read, but he lacked even the most basic knowledge—hell, he thought the demon king lived in the Mage Tower. I watched him stare at the statue of the founding emperor and call it an ugly old man, and I thought to myself,
Olivia's gonna lose her shit if she meets him.
Back then, I'd briefly considered introducing Mikhail to Olivia. It might've been a decent way to repay the villainess who'd showered me with money—a nice blind date setup. She could move on from her crush, and it'd spare her some stress at the academy later. But seeing Mikhail ready to toss aside his status like trash and insult the imperial family, I scrapped the idea clean.
Those two would fight like dogs if they met.
-You look like total shit.
-Eek...? Wanna fight too?
I'm really good at fighting!
-Nah. I'd just end up looking like the bad guy.
-Eeeeeek!
No need to see the future—it was obvious.
Anyway, Mikhail knew zilch and got amazed by the smallest things. Unlike the tough guy from the novel, he was fragile back then, scared of everything. At first, he was wary like a drenched kitten, but as we spent more time together, he started brightening up bit by bit.
Maybe it started after I saved him from being swept away by the flooded river on a day when rain poured down like crazy. From then on, he began opening up his world, little by little. He stopped rejecting my outstretched hand, started talking to me slowly. He'd huddle alone under the bridge, but when he spotted me, his eyes would go wide, and he'd hide that wriggly little smile.
Today, after finishing my begging rounds, I headed under the bridge to find him.
"I'm here. The handsomest beggar in the world has come again."
"Why'd you come! Don't come!"
"Why're you so sulky? Mad 'cause I'm later than usual?"
"I'm not sulky."
"Liar."
I chuckled softly, checking him over—any injuries? Anyone mess with him while I was gone? Seeing he was fine, I smiled.
Looks good today.
With Mikhail's safety confirmed, I plopped down beside him like always and unfolded the box.
"Picked up a fresh box today. Whaddya think? Cushioning's killer, right? Could even use it as a bed."
"A box is just a box. Don't call it a bed."
"Says the guy who's hoarded a mountain of 'em."
"Uh... don't look!"
I burst out laughing at the pile of boxes he'd hidden like treasure in the pillar's corner.
A box is just a box.
It cracked me up, someone denying it while stacking them everywhere. Mikhail frantically covered my eyes.
"...I said don't look!"
"Too late, I saw it all."
"Don't look! Forget it, you idiot!"
A red flush crept up his cheeks. He'd boasted that boxes were useless, but got caught hoarding them in secret. Even I'd be mortified.
He tried playing it cool. "I only collected 'em 'cause you like boxes!"
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah!"
"Cool, then I can take 'em all when I go?"
"Uh...?"
"Right?"
Mikhail clenched his fists, gazing longingly at his stash. He wanted to keep them, but his pride wouldn't let him beg. With a face like he might cry any second, he nodded heavily.
"Yeah..."
"Pfft! Nah, kidding. Not taking 'em."
I waved it off, grinning at his mopey look. Teasing Mikhail was fun. His feisty side was the total opposite of the novel's version, and I loved how he never bent his pride. Plus, seeing him grown enough to collect boxes on his own was nice—even if he still never left the bridge area, he was expanding his range, step by step. I smiled faintly and set out the chocolate and bread from my pocket onto the box.
His eyes went wide. I grinned. "What're you waiting for?"
"Huh?"
"You gotta eat too."
Flustered, he just stood there blankly. We'd eaten together plenty, so why'd he act shocked every time? I had no clue why he was so guarded—I'd never done him wrong. Maybe that mukbang I did last time, after he said he wouldn't eat my food?
I patted the spot beside the box with a smile. "C'mon."
"For real?"
"Yeah. Eating alone's boring."
He shuffled over hesitantly and carefully took a cream bun. Under his obvious side-eye, I nodded and chuckled. "Eat up."
-Nomf. Nomf.
It hadn't taken long, but I'd learned one solid thing about Mikhail: he loved cream buns. Not the half-assed ones, but the ones stuffed to bursting with cream.
"Slow down—no one's stealing it. You'll choke."
I popped open the milk and handed it over. Mouth full, he mumbled,
"Mmph mmph mmph!"
"What?"
"Mmphhwo!"
"The hell? Swallow first. Can't understand a word."
"Gulp... cough cough. You eat too."
"Me?" I rubbed my own empty stomach and said, "I ate already. I'm stuffed."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Damn, even I thought that sounded cool. Eyeing him carefully, I broached the topic. Better than this dump, he could live easier with me. Hey, I was a top-tier flower beggar—handsome, nice guy, with a solid sugar mama. Sure, on slow days like today with no crowds, I'd go hungry, but most days I lived large. Unlike the orphans starving to death.
I offered him chocolate, easing in. "You could eat your fill at my place."
"No."
Blunt as hell. He could've at least pretended to think it over for my sake, but nope.
"Don't wanna follow you."
"Sheesh. Why not?"
Clutching his bear doll tight, he moped, "What if Mom comes?"
"She won't—"
I nearly slipped. Nearly crushed his hopes with my foreknowledge. As a possessed guy who knew the future, that was a mistake I couldn't make. I didn't want to force pointless suffering on him when I knew the answer. Bitter smile on, I said,
"Guess it's too bad, then."
"..."
"Kidding... here."
I pulled out a crumpled paper and pen from my pocket. He eyed it questioningly, but I smiled and planted a seed of hope.
"Draw on this."
"What?"
"What else? Your mom."
"My mom?"
His eyes welled up at "mom," going wide like he'd burst into tears any second.
"No crying! Draw!"
"Hic..."
"No!"
The kid cried a lot. After soothing him forever, he finally drew on the paper and handed it over with a wistful smile.
It showed a beauty who looked just like him. Good genes, clearly—top-tier looks. I smiled faintly. "She's pretty."
"Yeah. My mom's super pretty."
"No kidding."
Praising her brought a smile to his face. I tucked the drawing away. "If I see someone who looks like her, I'll tell the kids right away. Don't worry—come out to the streets with me."
To burden Mikhail with more debts in the novel's future, we had to leave this place. And honestly, it wasn't safe for a kid alone. He looked up at me.
"For real?"
"Yeah."
After agonizing, he shook his head. "Still no."
"Argh, why?!"
"Just... I wanna see Mom first. Before anyone."
"Ugh... fine."
It took a good while. Cracking open his shut heart, dragging him out from under the bridge. We never fully escaped it, but slowly, he took my hand and started wandering the slums' streets.
"Whoaaa..."
"What'dya think of my turf?"
"Cool."
"Different, huh?"
"Nope."
"..."
He hated handouts, so he tried begging himself.
"Do it like me. 'Oooong, pretty lady.'"
"You look too pitiful."
"That's how ya make money. You don't have my lady-killer looks, but you're cute enough..."
Staring at his begging pouch—twice what I'd made in five hours—I felt the world's unfairness.
-What the fuck?
He was exceptional, mentally and physically. A prodigy.
And so, our bond grew into something like friendship. Yeah, friends.