When I First Met That Man -5-
During the passing time, the evil woman and I were able to share more stories.
Damn it!
"Why again."
"No, these kids are saying I don't even have a butler."
"Not a beggar, but you chased him away, right?"
"No!"
"Liar."
"I said no! I just said a few words, and he ran off crying!"
"That's what chasing someone away is, you idiot."
"Eeeeek!"
We had grown so close that we could casually point out each other's flaws without hesitation.
A relationship I thought was just a passing encounter. A bond I believed had no chance of entangling.
Yet the threads of that relationship began to weave together bit by bit.
Even though it started from one-sided obsession on her part.
Damn it! Argue with me again!
"No."
As time slowly passed, our conversations deepened, and the threads of our fates became increasingly intertwined.
The indifference I once felt—what did I care?—shifted into a hope that her future wouldn't be the worst, a wish that the novel's prophecy wouldn't come true.
"Why're you stealing my bread?"
"Hehe, it's tasty."
"You eat plenty of good stuff already. Why steal mine, you pig?"
"Nom... Stealing yours from right here makes it taste even better."
"You crazy bitch."
"Don't swear!"
"You look like you were made for swearing."
"Eeeeek!"
As time flowed on, I started looking forward to the evil woman.
When the clock tower's spire in the distance passed noon and raced into the afternoon, I'd think of her shadow that hadn't arrived yet and savor the wait: Just one more hour.
At first, I saw her merely as a generous client who paid well. But now, her stories were fun, her stubbornness endearing, and that's what kept drawing me back.
Today, I beat that drill-haired young lady in a fight. Got a bit hurt, but I hit her more, blah blah.
Her amusing tales had become a hobby for me.
Then one day, she made me a proposal.
She insisted with her usual stubbornness as the "evil woman" that an orphan from the slums wouldn't pass up the chance.
"You wanna be my house... what?"
"Butler. Say it: butler."
"House-but!"
"Ugh, I need to be reborn."
"Eeeeek!"
Her offer: wouldn't I try being her butler?
It wasn't a proposal for a slum rat living off dust.
I knew how precious it was.
Ordinary kids might not get it, but I, who knew the weight of the Desmont name, understood the allure.
A butler position in House Desmont—even noble heirs coveted it. It wasn't something offered to a slum beggar.
She huffed through her nose as she spoke.
"With me, you could conquer the world."
"And what about me?"
"You're the sidekick."
"...?"
But I turned it down.
Tempting as it was, the weight of my knowledge wouldn't let me settle for a mere butler role.
On the precarious scale of her life, which could tip into ruin with the slightest push, her existence weighed too heavily. That's why I refused the seductive offer.
"No."
"Why!"
"Just... being around you feels like it'd ruin me."
"I'll feed you and everything! Our house has tons of money!"
"It'd disappear because of you."
"Why? 'Cause I'm too pretty?"
"No, 'cause you're an idiot."
"Eeeeek! You're dead."
Still, she kept proposing.
Day after day, even after two days passed.
She must've really taken a liking to me, but I kept refusing.
If I held out a bit longer, I'd escape this place following Mikhail someday.
Longest: a year. Shortest: a month.
The novel didn't detail how Mikhail left the slums, but that time was approaching—that much was true.
Today, having rejected the young lady's offer again, I looked up at the rainy sky with a bitter smile.
"It's raining."
It was a rainy day.
Shwaaaaa—
Rain that an umbrella could easily block soaked the slum streets.
Huddled under the eaves, I watched the kids gather one by one and said,
"This everyone's here?"
"Yeah."
Mikhail, standing beside me, answered.
This was all of us now...
The slum street felt deserted.
The spot under the roof, once teeming without room to step, now stood empty and silent.
Just three kids, including me.
I forced a wry smile, an awkward one.
It's really over now.
We parted for many reasons.
Illness. Adoption by good parents. Parents returning after circumstances improved.
Today, we gathered to say goodbye again.
Not for a bad reason like death, but a parting born of reunion.
I gave Mikhail, standing there with a gloomy face, an awkward smile.
"Let's smile."
"..."
"It's the last time. Send 'em off with a smile, right?"
Mikhail clenched his fists and bowed his head.
Maybe because of the rain, he looked downcast. He let out a deep sigh and nodded.
I ruffled his hair and looked at the little kid running toward us from afar.
"Big bro!"
The kid, clutching his parents' hands, rushed over—what was the hurry?—without even an umbrella. I reached out and scooped him up.
"You little rascal!"
"Bro!"
"Yeah. Happy to meet your mom?"
"Yeah! Thanks to you, bro!"
"What'd I do?"
"You found our mom and dad for us!"
The kid beamed at me, his face blooming with a huge grin.
I smiled faintly, slipped a pouch of money into his little pocket, and patted his back.
"Go on, listen to your mom."
"Okay!"
"No whining, no picky eating."
"Got it!"
"Good kid."
I stroked his head, memories flashing in my mind.
Laughing together, fighting delinquents, comforting him when he cried for his mom.
I folded those memories like paper cranes and sent them off with him.
"Bye."
The parents behind him bowed to me in thanks.
He must've talked about me on the way.
Embarrassing.
I nodded back at their repeated bows with an awkward smile.
Good to see them happy. The kid. His parents. They all looked content.
I didn't know their future, but I waved at the departing kid, hoping that smile lasted.
No reason to stay here anymore.
Just me, Mikhail, and one little kid left on this street.
No duty to protect it out of responsibility.
Mikhail had a bright future ahead, and the kid beside him already had a home.
Only I remained.
I gotta do well.
Whatever it takes.
I glanced at Mikhail awkwardly waving and said softly,
"Gonna cry?"
"I'm not."
"Don't. Something good'll happen for you too."
"...No."
Mikhail was weak to goodbyes.
To deaths. To departing footsteps.
A crybaby fool.
Especially when friends left after meeting parents—like now.
He envied them.
Hated staying behind, envied the leavers, so he cried.
He'd sobbed under the bridge all day, thrown his bear doll on the ground and wailed.
Today, he looked depressed too.
I gave him an awkward smile, gauging his mood.
Always tricky knowing how to cheer him up.
I got the feeling, but not how to fix it. These moments were hard.
Mikhail stared at the ground, more sullen than usual.
After standing there long, gazing at the empty street, he grabbed one leg of his beloved bear doll and dragged it across the ground to a corner.
I punched his shoulder playfully. To cheer him up.
"Mikhail! Gotta go today too!"
"..."
"Not going to the bridge...?"
No answer from Mikhail.
Just standing in the rain, face stiff.
I made an awkward face, reaching for his bear doll getting soaked in the mud.
No matter how hurt, he always clutched that doll.
As I clumsily tried to grab it before it slipped from his hand—
Mikhail coldly brushed off my touch.
He tossed the doll to the ground like it meant nothing.
Stopped walking, passed me standing there, and said,
"Not going."
"Huh...?"
"I said not going."
"Huh...?"
I stood there like an idiot.
No matter how much time passed. Even on free meal days.
He wouldn't go to the place he always sought. Shocking.
If he'd overcome the sadness, he'd smile. But now, he looked ready to crumble.
In a dumb voice, I asked Mikhail to rethink.
"Why?"
Mikhail buried his head, voice trembling.
"Why?"
He yelled at me, fists shaking with rage, voice dripping contempt.
"You're asking why now?"
"Mikhail, you seem really mad. Calm down a bit..."
"Ha."
Mikhail scoffed, shoulders trembling lightly.
"You'd wanna go if you were me?"
"..."
"You know."
"..."
"Pretending not to know?"
"Haha..."
Ignoring my awkward laugh, he shouted,
"You know they ain't coming! So why ask?!"
"No..."
"Why! Keep asking! It's so hard!"
It burst.
The wound I'd thought healed tore open from gentle waves, finally erupting.
I was used to kids' tantrums, but Mikhail's deep-seated resentment hurt.
Because he was a friend... a friend we'd shared everything with.
It pained me. I knew his heart now.
I was an orphan too, endured endless waits.
Staring at opening doors daily, hoping, crushed. I knew that heart.
No bright future in sight.
Watching others leave, thinking Why not me...? I knew it best, so I bit my lip and listened to his rage.
"They laugh behind your back, pretending not to know! 'He really got abandoned.'"
"No. They don't."
"Don't lie!"
I approached with a wry smile.
"It's okay, today might be different."
"Today...! Today...! Waited every 'today'!"
"Mikhail. Calm down just a sec..."
"Shut up!"
He slapped my hand away roughly, bursting into tears.
"Sick of it...!"
Mikhail glared, fists clenched tight.
"Waiting here."
"..."
"Being with your stinky self...!"
"..."
"Eating that weird stinky bread too!"
"I see..."
I smiled sadly, approaching.
I'd overlooked so much. Gotta try harder.
Cautiously, I said I was sorry.
"Sorry."
"..."
"Sorry I didn't pay enough attention."
Tears streaming, Mikhail vented like a child's sulk, unaware it hurt.
Just wiping tears, he spat,
"I have a mom too... Unlike you who doesn't even know her face, mine promised to come!"
...Huh?
Shouldn't sting... shouldn't hurt.
But a hidden knot deep inside smarted.
I clenched my fist, calming myself. It's nothing. He's a kid.
But Mikhail kept hurting me.
"Hate it! Hate this. Staying here. Being friends with grubby kids like you!"
"..."
"Wanna be friends with cool kids. Clean, neat ones...!"
"..."
"Not ugly, stinky ones like you!"
Mikhail's words wounded.
All my efforts meant nothing; I was just food delivery to him.
Shouldn't take it this way, but my best felt foolish, turning negative.
Should brush it off as an adult, but his words scratched a long-forgotten raw spot, refusing to fade.
I bowed my head. Speaking might make him angrier.
"Hate this place and you who likes trivial stuff."
"...You don't know me."
"You don't know my feelings either. Never lived with mom, never got her promise."
"..."
"You've always been alone."
"Stop."
"Alone from the start. You don't get it."
"I said stop."
I gritted my teeth, but Mikhail crossed the line.
"We're different!"
Snap.
Ah.
Severed.
The last thread of reason, clutched desperately, finally broke.
Didn't care anymore.
I sighed deeply, tossing his doll to the ground.
This effort felt pointless.
In a calm voice,
"Then do it alone."
"What...?"
Shouldn't have.
"You said being with me disgusts you. So handle it alone."
"No..."
"Why. Wrong?"
"That's not..."
"I did my best."
"Gave everything, no reward."
"And what...?"
"Disgusting...?"
"Then figure it out solo. Find your precious mom alone, eat alone. Then she'll come, like you say."
"Unlike with me."
I left Mikhail behind.
Maybe my good intentions turned poisonous for him, or his words hurt—complicated. Either way, I abandoned him and wandered the streets alone.
And then.
"Bro!"
"What."
"That cheeky brat! No, Mikhail's mom came!"
"Huh?"
I frantically searched for Mikhail.
Headlessly.
Didn't know why.
Knew his words were lies.
Knew he was a heretic pawn.
Saw his favorite topics, yet I foolishly kept running.
Knew from the novel he'd meet his mom as an adult.
"Where's Mikhail?"
"The bridge."
Knowing the ending, I still dashed through the streets searching.
Just to make him smile.
And so.
"Huff... huff..."
I fell into the trap.
"It's you?"
"I-I'm sorry..."
"The kid's looking for you."
It was a rainy day.
A very sad rain.