Yuria and Olivia - 2: The Weight of Broken Promises
Yuria harbored a sickness she couldn't confess to anyone. It wasn't some incurable disease or a terminal illness with a ticking clock—no, it was a malady of the heart that gnawed at her from within. A sickness that made her unable to trust promises.
This affliction had tormented Yuria for a very long time. It was the reason she had no choice but to be kind, the reason she could only show a bright face to the world. The origin of this illness traced back to a promise her mother had made in her childhood.
It wasn't some grand, tragic tale laden with sorrow. It was just an ordinary event that could happen to anyone.
That day, as always, the North was cold and barren. To cure her mother's inexplicable illness, her father had gone out to work, leaving her mother bedridden.
"Mommy, don't be sick."
"Then~ why would Mommy be sick?"
"Sniff…! I'll go up the mountain and gather herbs…"
"Tsk! Yuria! Mommy told you not to go up the mountain. She said there are scary wolves growling up there!"
"But… Mommy's hurting."
"Mommy's fine." Her mother, who always said she was fine, would hook her pinky finger and promise.
"Next spring, we'll go flower viewing together—Mommy, Daddy, and you."
"Yeah…! Promise."
"Okay. But only if Yuria becomes a good little girl who listens to Mommy! That's how Mommy will get better."
"Yeah." Her mother promised they'd go flower viewing once she recovered—"Mommy's strong, so it'll be fine"—but she never kept it. Her condition worsened. Debts piled up. Father was never home. Yuria clung to that unkept promise, harboring hope with her hooked pinky.
Believing that someday, surely, it would come true. Was it innocence? Or in the harsh North, with family as her only reliance? Her mother's pinky promises weighed heavily on young Yuria.
"Mommy…?" But her mother had broken the promise. Lying before the roaring stove stuffed with wood, she lay cold and stiff, giving no reply. The one-sided vow sealed with fingers, the promise that she'd recover if Yuria was good—all trapped in a cold frame, forever broken.
From that moment, Yuria stopped believing in promises. She couldn't trust people, and a disease of suspicion took root, making it impossible to rely on anyone. The illness of smiling outwardly while crying inside slowly settled into little Yuria's heart. Foolishly so.
Yuria tried to be a good daughter for her father. Because he'd said it would ease his burdens. She thought her mother in heaven would be happy seeing her try to be good.
"I'm sorry. This month's interest…!" But darkness always gathered. Her father's promise to be home for her birthday if she studied hard, the debt collectors' threat that he wouldn't return if she told where he'd gone—none were kept.
So Yuria smiled. Even if she couldn't believe. Even if promises broke. She always smiled to soothe her sorrow. It was better that way. Even when it hurt, even when she was lonely, smiling made everyone happy. She smiled and smiled again.
Yuria always wondered: Was she a burden? Would smiling more make things better? Could she earn love by not hating others? She carried these heavy thoughts on her shoulders everywhere.
"Hello, ma'am!" Treating people with smiles brought more food. The snacks pressed into her hand by those who called her cute and kind, stroking her head—back then, they tasted so good.
"Tsk tsk… Poor thing." Whispers of "pitiful little kid" followed behind her, but she didn't shrink in gloom. She didn't trust them either. No reason to get hurt.
Yuria feared trusting others. She knew it herself. Her story wasn't reason enough to suspect everyone. She knew and tried to fix it. But the realities before her only wounded her heart deeper, corroding it further. Because giving her heart led to betrayal.
"Hey, Ricardo was talking smack about you behind your back."
"He did your homework instead when you talked to him?"
"Yuria~ Come play with us! Oh, but isn't that one too cute? Gonna buy her for real?!" Truth was, she wasn't that bright a person—far from foolish. The knot of resentment in her heart from long ago had shaped this idiotic self. She craved affection. Craved love. Wanted to be seen as a good girl. That desire turned her into a monster on the verge of bursting. Her true feelings differed. She wanted to curse, to hate, to whine. But obsession wouldn't allow it.
Except for one person… Her heart's illness vanished for him alone.
"I'll protect you."
"…"
"You don't have to trust me. Hate me if you want. I'll do what I want anyway."
"Why?"
"Just because I feel like it?" She knew why her emotions swung so wildly. Especially toward Ricardo, she was sharper, and she knew it, but it wouldn't mend easily. She snapped easily.
"I trusted you."
Disappointing on her own whims.
"Trouble never stops around Ricardo." She knew her suspicion was worst with him alone. Ricardo had never broken a promise so far.
"Haa." Sitting on a bench at the Northern hospital, Yuria bowed her head, clearing the tangled thoughts from her mind. Why had she done that? Why had she been cold to Ricardo? Regret always came after. Thoughts deepened, her heart grew anxious. Before Ricardo, seeing the man she could rely on, she'd throw a tantrum and burst into tears. Since when had it become like this?
Breathing cold sighs, Yuria wore a melancholic expression, recalling yesterday's mistake. No answers came. How to apologize this time? What words to approach with? If only she'd trusted a bit more, approached without doubt. If she'd treated him like others, maybe things would be different. Self-reproach bowed her head lower.
The private room at the Northern hospital.
Thud thud thud thud! Thanks to connections, after a simple statement, I'd been admitted to a good hospital. I lay peacefully in bed, enjoying the leisure.
How long since I've been in a hospital bed? I couldn't remember the last time, excluding my past life's car accident hospitalization. Breathing in the long-missed hospital scent, I savored the time leisurely.
Thud thud thud thud! Except for one thing. The noisy Young Lady scampering about.
"Eeeek! Wicawdo!" Had her stamina regressed to childhood too? She couldn't stay still. In bear-plush slippers, she poked her face over the bed rail, yelling, "Whoa! Wicawdo's dead!" then dashed off crying "Air raid alert!"
Eeeek!!! Air raid alert! Truly, regressed, she saw nothing before her eyes. I chuckled, grabbing the Young Lady about to bolt into the hallway. This could ruin my rare healing time.
Gripping her shrunken head, I smiled faintly. "Cough. Cough. Young Lady, water please."
"Water?"
"Yes."
"Wicawdo eat it up."
"…I'm the patient?" I pointed to my gown. As a patient, couldn't she nurse me? She blinked faintly, nodded, and flashed a vigorous smile.
"Okay. Then don't die."
"I won't."
"Yeah."
Thud thud thud! Truly an adorable Young Lady. Her temporary smallness was almost regrettable—she was that cute. Chubby cheeks, cute pronunciation, and I'd never thought her childhood self cute before. I shook my head with a hollow laugh.
Still, not my type. My tastes were firm. Couldn't give up her treasure pouch. A Young Lady without it would be hollow. Believing her word she'd return in a day, I surrendered to leisure. Seeing her walk, even temporarily, lifted my spirits. It wouldn't be permanent. Her damaged nerves had recovered with the regression. More like her body reverted to its past state. Once black magic returned, her legs would too. Regrettable, but unavoidable—we both decided not to dwell.
For now, just enjoy the present happiness. Hearing her boisterous footsteps rushing back, I smiled softly.
"Wicawdo!" Balancing a cup on her head, nostrils flaring, she charged. Everything she did was cutely devious. Expression stern, cheeks flushed red, shoulders heaving—like a haughty villainess anew. I laughed.
Thrusting the head-balanced cup at me, she said, "Water here."
I eyed the half-spilled water from her run, chuckling dryly. "Young Lady."
"Yeah."
"No water left."
"No. I filled it full—"
"No, it's empty."
"No, I definitely… Huh?" Staring at the empty cup, she blinked in bewilderment at me.
"Right?"
"Yeah."
"Shall I fetch more?"
"No. Too bothersome."
I took the cup carefully, brushing water from her hair. "Eeeeek…!" Shaking her soft locks, she squeezed her eyes shut, head whipping side to side, whining "Don't…!" in protest.
Some time passed. The moon rose outside. The full moon filled the Northern sky. Sitting together on the bed, gazing out, we blankly pointed at the stars.
"Wow. So pwetty."
"It is. Stars we see in Hamel too, but they feel more special."
"Yeah." The Milky Way sky began a gentle lullaby.
With her between my legs, drowsiness hit. I hugged her tight, laying into bed.
"Eeeek!" Squirming uncomfortably, she flailed to escape my arms. I buried my nose in her crown, murmuring drowsily.
"Lullaby, lullaby…"
"Eeeek, don't put me to sleep!"
"Lullaby…"
"I'm a pwoper lady…!"
"You're Yuria now, so it's fine."
"…Is that so?" Sniffling, she nodded, soon nestling comfortably and drifting off. Even breaths sounded.
Hack! Though the Young Lady's weren't even.
I closed my eyes, yielding to sleep. Thinking I'd sleep early, I finally relaxed into slumber.
*
Knock knock. A knock echoed outside the room.
No response from within. Yuria bit her lip, head bowed. Clutching the fruit basket, she stood silently before the door for a long while. After about 20 minutes of longing, thinking at least to leave the basket, she cautiously opened the door.
Creak.
"Excuse m—"
"…"
Yuria froze at the sight through the door: a woman watching her, arms crossed. Olivia, seated in her wheelchair, gazed calmly.
"Follow me."
"…"
Her body restored, Olivia wheeled out of the room.