The Story of How I First Met That Man -8-

With excruciating pain, Yung pulled his hand away from Ricardo's head. It was extreme agony—the kind that made it feel like his own skull was about to burn to ash.

"Gaaah...!"

For Yung, who had never experienced anything like this before, it was baffling. He stared at Ricardo with eyes full of disbelief. This was the first time he'd encountered such fierce resistance, as if the boy was outright rejecting his attempt to read his memories. Normally, it ended in failure or simply dissipated without harm, but this kid was different. Very different.

And then, the boy in front of him smirked wickedly and wiped the blood from his lips.

"Done."

In the boy's hand was Yung's own longsword. He didn't know when it happened, but in an instant, the kid had snatched the blade from his waist. As if he'd anticipated Yung's memory-reading failure all along, he grinned ferociously and charged straight at him.

Dangerous.

Exposed and defenseless from the pain, Yung realized he might not block the boy's attack in time. The kid didn't miss the opening, swinging his sword straight for Yung's throat.

Yung flailed desperately to dodge the sharply incoming blade.

"Not escaping."

Yung blasted mana to shove the boy back, but the sword's momentum carried stronger will than expected. With a slash of tearing flesh, one side of Yung's vision went dark. He sensed things were going south.

The boy chuckled softly and flicked the blood off his blade.

"One down."

He'd lost an eye. A moment's carelessness had given the kid hope, and he'd said it aloud. The boy smiled. Now armed, he radiated a threatening aura utterly unlike before—like a beast. Staring him down, ready to rip out his throat at the slightest gap.

"Didn't think it'd work, but it did."

"..."

"Ah, fuck... already at my limit?"

The boy muttered under his breath and glanced somewhere. Toward the spot where little Mikhail had been lying. Seeing Mikhail slowly regaining strength, the boy bellowed.

"Run!"

"Huh...?"

"I said run!"

"No! I can fight too...!"

"Don't be a fool—run!"

The boy kicked off the ground again, charging once more. Now Yung understood. What the kid was thinking. Convinced the boy was trying to sabotage his "meal," Yung ground his teeth, enduring the shattering pain.

Can't let him go. He'd already chosen his main course. No way he'd let it slip away so easily.

So Yung did what he could.

The boy's body tumbled across the ground from Yung's eerie black magic, but he sprang right back up, ready to leap at him again. It should've landed solidly. That impact ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone should've left him unable to stand, yet Yung chuckled softly and gripped his dagger.

"Hah... cocky little brat."

He'd given the kid too many openings. Just because he wanted to watch a bit longer, he'd dragged it out. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠At this rate, charging in with that momentum, there was no blocking it. Too fast—and no matter where he stabbed, the boy would do anything to end him.

Yung flashed a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cruel smile and made his decision.

Then throw out some bait.

Yung hurled the dagger—not at the boy, but at Mikhail. A boy who wielded his sword to protect someone would deliver exactly the outcome he envisioned. Confident, Yung began sketching the next scene.

A slicing sound rang out from the dagger, and Yung looked up with a soft laugh.

"Gotcha."

The boy had taken the bait.

"Fuck."

"Knew you'd bite."

"Doesn't mean you glance at someone else."

Blood dripped in drops as Mikhail let out a foolish scream.

"...Huh?"

The boy stood in front of him. A body so fragile and small. Tall for his age, but that's all—the boy smiled down at Mikhail.

"You okay?"

"Ah... ah..."

"I'm not."

"Ahh... no."

Thud.

The boy collapsed to his knees in front of Mikhail, powerless to stand. The attacks until now had been every ounce of strength he could muster; his body wouldn't move anymore. With the Limit Break penalty crashing in, that had been his final strike.

Or so.

A thunk—Yung's kick slammed into the boy's shoulder. Seeing him roll across the dirt, Yung let out a small smile.

"Too bad. You almost had me."

"Fuck."

"What can ya do? Your weak heart's the problem."

Mikhail grabbed a rock and charged at Yung.

"Don't!"

At the frail boy's defiance, Yung burst into laughter and booted Mikhail in the gut. It was hilarious. The boy sacrificing himself to protect. The one blustering despite being helpless. All of it was amusing, thrilling ecstasy.

Yung yanked the dagger from the boy's back. Blood poured out—he knew the kid would die, but that wasn't his concern. This wasn't the main course anyway.

Yung tossed the dagger in front of Mikhail.

"Go on."

"...?"

"I'll let one of you live."

Yung savored the moment. Despair descending was perfect. The picture hadn't unfolded exactly as planned, but the flavor now was exquisite, so he ignored the minor flaws.

"Why hesitate?"

"...I'll kill you!"

"Me? Who?"

Yung unleashed horrific killing intent at Mikhail. To push him over the edge. He wasn't that heartless; he was being considerate. A gift from his own soft heart. The choice was just a tool to draw them in, so Yung trembled with ecstasy, watching the boy rise shakily and Mikhail.

Gazing at the boy's vacant eyes, Yung said,

"You wanna live too, right?"

"..."

"Don't you?"

Then to Mikhail,

"You too. Stab him and you live. For real!"

He knew the desperate urge to survive could break anyone, so Yung waited.

And—

Clink...

Little Mikhail began meeting his expectations. The boy looked at him with trembling eyes and bowed his head. Seeing the betrayal sink in, Yung clenched his fist in rapture.

Yes...!

This was it. What he craved. Abandoning someone to survive. Betraying the boy who'd treated him like a benefactor in those implanted memories. Yung licked his lips at his sizzling dish and said,

"I keep my promises."

For even greater flavor.

*

Bowed head trembling uncontrollably, Mikhail couldn't hide his shaking shoulders. I watched him, thinking it was understandable. No resentment. Honestly, when that dagger dropped in front of me, I'd thought the same.

In the novel, Yung was the type who kept his word—at least that one. Unlike other villains. Though it came with tricky conditions, I knew stabbing Mikhail with this blade would let me live.

But how could I?

Every pose was perfect. I gave Mikhail a faint smile.

"Sorry..."

Mikhail bit his lip hard, gripping the dagger. Pity swelled seeing him fight his fear with those shaking hands. This ending ain't bad, I thought.

"Mom promised she'd come..."

"Yeah."

"So..."

Mikhail turned around.

"Tell her I'm okay when you meet her instead."

He raised the dagger at Yung, face on the verge of tears, voice quivering.

"You protected me every day...!"

"..."

"You took the hits for me every single day!"

His voice cracked with sobs.

"So this time, I'll protect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you!"

Like the hero from the novel. I chuckled softly and shook my head.

"Alright."

And then.

I impaled myself on Mikhail's dagger. Yung's scream echoed—shrieking not to ruin his meal. Ignoring it, I hugged Mikhail's neck and said,

"Then you tell her. Don't make me chase after."

I patted his stunned shoulder.

"It's fine."

"...Huh?"

"Nothing happened."

"..."

"Just think of me as someone who never existed."

"So. Forget me."

With that, I left Mikhail's side.

*

What happened after is a blur. Yung's furious kicks rained down. Mikhail ran as I'd told him to, while I grabbed Yung's leg, buying time however I could.

And then.

Hellish time dragged on. Yung's angry mutterings about what to do with the abandoned me made my shoulders quake; his plan to brainwash and sell me to the heretics terrified me.

But I'd lost so much blood, I knew time was short. Not that scary, really.

I'm dying anyway.

While cursing Yung with all my fading will, one forgotten promise surfaced.

A promise with the evil girl. Regretted not keeping it. Food bought by her would've been delicious.

Though she'd never come looking.

A lonely life. Past life too. No one ever came for me.

As drowsiness closed in, a familiar voice reached my ear.

Fuck.

The evil girl's familiar voice.

"Wanna die?"

Spitting murderous intent.

And she said,

"Kill that fucker."

In a cold tone.

That's how I...

Became the evil girl's butler.