Outing -2-

Ruin was sitting there with his legs crossed, glaring at me with a face full of dissatisfaction. I had no idea what his problem was.

"Fancy running into you here. Good to see you, Ruin."

"Good ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to see me?" Ruin let out a hollow laugh.

Why was he acting like this? Last time, he'd shared some life lessons with Hanna and we'd had a great time. So why the sour look? I felt a pang of hurt toward this Ruin who'd apparently forgotten our good memories. Still, running into him here had to be fate. Maybe a chat would smooth things over—we were academy classmates, after all. Filled with the joy of reunion, I said to him,

"Hasn't it been since we met at the mansion? You didn't even get to see the lady back then."

"What? Who?"

"Lady Olivia Desmont."

Ruin sneered softly. Olivia Desmont. His rival, the woman who'd inflicted an indelible humiliation on him. The name of the unforgivable woman dripped sweetly from the mouth of the unforgivable bastard.

Ruin had bitten his prey. There was only one reason he'd called out to Ricardo: it was hilarious that the penniless Ricardo had shown up at Forest Friend. He wanted to embarrass him in front of everyone and force an apology for last time.

There was a white-haired woman on his back, but that was none of Ruin's concern. Anyone hanging around with Ricardo had to be on his level. Seeing her in outdated fashion, Ruin pegged her as some fallen noble from the boonies. And Olivia ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had black hair anyway. Convinced Olivia wasn't here, Ruin said,

"Yeah, where's your master? If you're coming to a place like this, you should be with your lord."

"Pardon?"

"And what kind of butler shows up with some other chick? On a date, huh? Pfft. You even got the money?"

"It's not another woman. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The lady's right here."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Ruin flinched, his shoulders trembling. He'd only heard rumors about Olivia, so he knew nothing. He had no clue her hair had turned white, or that she could manage short walks if carried on someone's back. All Ruin knew about Olivia came from friends' gossip. They had no desire to bring back the girl they'd gotten expelled, or even learn about her, so the occasional rumors were his full extent of knowledge.

-Olivia can't use her legs anymore. She's crippled!

Rumors starting from facts.

-Olivia's on death's door.

Escalating to extreme tales. By the time the conclusions reached him, Ruin had assumed Olivia was naturally wasting away at home.

So he failed to recognize the lady on the guy's back and made the mistake of confessing he wanted to see her right in front of her eyes.

I whispered softly to the lady counting floor tiles.

"Lady. It's Ruin."

"Ruin?"

The lady looked up sharply. In that instant, Ruin's shoulders shook again. Unable to meet her eyes, he kept staring at the floor.

Why was he like that? The lady tilted her head.

"Who's that?"

She stared at Ruin with genuine confusion.

"You know, the guy from the academy who went around calling himself your rival."

"My only rival is Yuria."

"He insists he is."

"Him?"

The lady looked at Ruin again. Ruin flinched, shoulders quaking. The Ruin who'd raged about having to see Olivia's face at the mansion was gone; now he was like a cat with fur standing on end. He wanted to snap but held back, fearing payback. It was pitiful to watch.

"Tsk."

"Does it ring a bell?"

"Hmm..."

The lady squinted, scrutinizing Ruin up and down. Having witnessed her excellent memory for 13 years, I knew instantly: she wasn't going to remember him today.

"The butcher's son?"

"No."

"Then?"

"The village headman from Green Grass Village."

"Aha!"

Offended by the spot-on guesses, Ruin shouted loudly.

"That's not it!"

"Then who are you?"

"I... I'm..."

Ruin's legs shook in front of Olivia. In the novel, he was all bold words, but faced with true madness, he folded. Even at the academy, he'd trash-talk her behind her back, only to scamper off when she told him to shut up—a total fair-weather bird. I had no idea why he was only like that around her. One thing was clear: Ruin feared the lady.

Olivia clung tightly to my neck. The ample chest pressing against my back threatened my male dignity, but I held firm, humming the national anthem in my head.

"Ricardo, let's go. I'm hungry."

"Just a moment. Don't we need to know who he is before we leave?"

Moving now would cause all sorts of trouble.

"Hmm."

Olivia said to Ruin,

"Who are you?"

"I... I-I-I..."

"Don't stutter. Speak properly."

Under the lady's stern command, Ruin finally opened his mouth.

"Disciple of the Tower Lord."

"Oh, really?"

Olivia stuck out her thumb.

"Then eat up."

Right now, Olivia didn't care if he was some village punk or a sub-male lead—meat in front of her was precious.

"Wait!"

"What? I'm busy."

"You really don't remember me? Ruin, the Flame Mage of Inferno. I was runner-up at the academy."

His desperate plea to be remembered was heartbreaking. I regretted not making her memorize names more. I felt sorry for him in every way.

"Remember when I Fireball'd your dress and you cussed me out huge?"

Stop, sub-male lead. Don't dredge up black history to jog her memory.

"No clue."

"What? You have to remember! I burned that super expensive dress, and you tormented me with ice magic for 30 minutes. I thought I'd freeze to death!"

"Hmm."

The lady said,

"Doesn't ring a bell."

To preserve Ruin's sanity, I called over a nearby server.

"Excuse me, boss. Sorry, but could you seat two?"

"Apologies, sir. We do reservations only. Your name?"

"Ah... Lady, if you would."

The lady slapped two meal vouchers onto her forehead. I'd told her not to lose them, and she'd gripped them so hard they were crumpled.

"Hiet."

The lady smiled. The server's eyes widened as he led us away.

"Right this way to the VIP room."

Ruin muttered at our retreating backs,

"V...VIP room?"

Seated in the restaurant with the lady. A happy vibe filled the air. The table overflowed with side dishes—a feast fit for a king.

"Oh...!"

"Drool, lady."

"It's mine, so I can slobber on it."

I wiped the drool from her chin with a napkin. Even if it was food-bound, a noble acting sloppy was trouble.

Side dishes kept coming endlessly. Easily over 30 by eye, but I didn't remember ordering that much. Worried about a mix-up, I cautiously raised a hand and leaned toward the server.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, sir?"

"We ordered the steak set, but seems like there might be a mistake."

"Ah, no problem. You came with vouchers straight from the boss himself. This is the least we can do."

"The boss? Malik gave them to me."

"Exactly. Mr. Malik."

"Pardon?"

"He's our owner."

I clasped my hands in prayer, imagining Malik swinging a sword somewhere. I miss you already. Let me repay the debt and return these precious vouchers. He felt especially missed today.

We picked up forks and knives. Sizzle. Juicy steak oozing.

"Wow, lady. Look at that juice... You're already digging in."

The lady stuffed her mouth full, chomping noisily.

"Ooooh!"

Her eyes sparkled like Simbongsa awakening.

"So good...!"

I felt great. This is why I endure. She chewed like her jaw might unhinge. Pausing briefly, she cut a steak piece smaller than her pinky and held it out.

"Ahh."

"For me?"

Nod.

"Make it bigger then. That's too small."

Zing. Her eyes issued a silent threat. I opened wide.

Indeed. Delicious beyond words. Just like the novel described: juices dancing alive in my mouth, a calf frolicking on my tongue.

"Wow."

"Good, right?"

"Yes, amazing."

"Hehe, eat up. Not my treat though."

And so we cleared the table.

"I'm so full."

Rubbing her bloated belly, we smiled happily over dessert. Lips greasy, the lady belched. Urp. Not noble at all.

Time to talk? Evening had come. Mood was perfect. Time to serve today's main course: the debt was fully paid. No more eviction worries.

Ahem. Clearing my throat, about to speak carefully—

"Ahem! Ricardo."

"Yes?"

"I have something to say."

After dinner, the lady who'd been eyeing me spoke first. She glanced around. Worried about eavesdroppers? VIP room was private and quiet, but she seemed set on something serious, scanning repeatedly.

"Yeah. Nobody here."

She nodded. Adorably.

Slurp. Sipping tea. Then she started fishing a paper from between her breasts.

"No! What are you doing?"

"Huh? Checking my pocket?"

"That's not a pocket!"

Fingers splayed, covering eyes. Still saw plenty. Peeking was wrong, but failing gentlemanly duty was worse. Newspaper emerging slowly from her cleavage. I'd treasure it forever.

The lady puffed her chest proudly.

"Biggest pocket here."

"Well..."

True enough. Lady's breasts were always right. I couldn't argue.

Thud. Newspaper spread on the table. Warm from her bosom. I plugged my nose with a handkerchief again.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a runny nose."

"Take care of yourself. Gotta stay healthy after all that meat."

Concerned, she pointed to a line and beamed.

"Hey, I wanna work."

"Pardon?"

"Look here."

"What do you think?"

She looked at me like seeking permission. Commendable, but my heart sank. What feeling was this? Like a spoiled kid who never lifted a finger begging to buy a computer with part-time cash—bittersweet. Proud of her growth, yet oddly hurt.

"Why?"

She peered up again. Puppy eyes begging approval. Words stuck. Wanted to say great job, but felt inadequate.

She kept explaining, persuading me how great the job was, detailing the ad.

"I thought hard about it. We're struggling right now. Can't just sit idle, so I looked around."

"..."

"Good, right?"

"Well..."

"Even thought about selling the mansion."

She smiled awkwardly.

"Price tanked since I lived there. 'Evil woman's old haunt' or whatever."

"When did you check?"

"Wrote to a realtor."

She was so admirable it hurt. Should've done better. Didn't want her worrying. Bittersweet, I shoved dessert in my mouth.

"Lady. It's fine."

"Why? I can work too."

"I know. But you working—no."

"Why not!"

Flexing her arm, showing her familiar bicep. Smaller than a quail egg. How could those frail arms glue doll eyes? She'd wheeze after ten.

Damn. Couldn't hate her.

"So proud and amazing. But we're not struggling anymore."

"Huh?"

"Debt's all paid. That's why we came today."

The lady dropped her fork and yelled,

"You... I told you not to do dangerous stuff!"

Tears welled up. Lips bitten, cheeks puffed in scolding. Eyes misty. Staring hard, she laid into me.

"You can't do that!"

"It's dangerous!"

"Fuck! I said don't go just 'cause they pay well!"

Listening to her nagging, I thought: This isn't so bad.