The Secret He Hides -1-
On the way home, cotton candy in hand, the young lady on my back was still fuming, huffing and puffing as she lectured me on the truths of life.
"So! Guys who pay a lot are bad people, got it?"
"But he gave you a meal voucher. Does that make him a bad guy?"
"Huh?"
In the past, she had told me this: A guy who gives you good food isn't a bad person. If he feels bad, it's either because your eyes are faulty or you've got something wrong with you. As one of her star pupils in her philosophy, I grumbled back at her teachings.
"He gave you the meal voucher?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"'Cause I did a good job?"
The young lady suddenly went quiet. After pondering for a bit, she nodded and conceded.
"Then he's a good guy."
"Right?"
"Still, you can't work with him."
"Why not? He pays well, buys good food—there's no one nicer than that."
"Well... that's... dangerous! He didn't even tell you what the job was."
"Just caught some bugs. Super rare ones."
"Ugh... don't lie!"
Truth be told, I knew it too. Earning a million gold in a single day meant either shady underworld work that had no end in sight or a commission to take down a named monster. Technically, I had caught a named criminal, but luck played a huge part. Pascal and I just didn't match well. Plus, as a villain from the original story, I knew his weaknesses inside out, making it easy to take him down.
I got her worry and her scolding, but teasing her was too much fun, so I was savoring the conversation.
"So, how about it?"
The young lady on my back replied indifferently.
"What? Paying off the debt?"
"Nah, that's obviously gonna make you happy. Something else."
"Something else?"
"Look here."
I tilted my head to take in the surroundings. The streets glowed bright even in the dark night. Streetlamps lit up overhead. On a weekday, people bustled about. Vendors clapped their hands, calling out to passersby. Normally, at this hour, they'd have shut off the lights and gone to bed or chatted in their bedrooms.
I was curious how she felt about her first outing in ages.
"How's it feel to be out after so long?"
She glanced around like I did. The vibrant streetlights sparkled. The overly beautiful night scene made her eyes shine. She buried her face in my back. Guess being honest was embarrassing. Hiding her face, she murmured in a sweet, melting voice. I wanted to pinch her cheek.
"Nice."
"Right?"
"Yeah."
Good. She liked it. Part of me had worried what I'd do if she hated this outing. After losing her legs, she'd come to hate meeting people and lived like a bird in a giant cage of a mansion with no friends or family. I'd been anxious she'd get scared and refuse to go out again. My heart had been pounding over it.
Ruin showing up midway hadn't helped. I wanted to make good memories for her, and hearing her shy answer eased my worries. All the hardship seemed to melt away.
"Wanna go out again next time? Hit the stalls, grab some chicken skewers—sound good?"
"...Maybe."
We made plans for next time. Promising to make it more fun and worthwhile, we headed back to the mansion with light steps.
On the way home, Olivia dozed off briefly. It had been so long since she'd gone out, she was tired, and scolding Ricardo for his dangerous job had worn her out too.
His broad butler's back felt sturdy and reliable. As a kid, he'd been skinny like a twig—she'd thought he'd stay smaller than her forever—but now he towered over her, a full-grown man carrying her without a second thought.
Olivia liked Ricardo. Not romantically, but as a person. He was kind, always smiling, rushing to her side whenever things got tough. How could she not like him?
She didn't know what he thought of her, but she liked her butler, Ricardo. She hoped he saw her in a good light. She'd even scanned the papers for jobs for him, but he'd paid off the debt, making it all pointless.
Damn it. That's why she'd shed a few tears today. Not many—just a little. A tiny bit. She hadn't imagined he'd clear the debt. He must've done something grueling.
Olivia hugged the hardworking Ricardo tight. Her mom used to hold her like this when she was little, and it felt good. She wanted him to feel good too.
—Tight.
Warmth spread through her chest. After thirteen years, her butler's back—unchanging at her side—was broad and toasty.
"Young lady."
"Yeah."
His sleepy voice, laced with drowsiness, brushed her ear softly amid the oncoming wave of fatigue. The low baritone made her even sleepier, but Olivia clung to wakefulness with all her might. Being carried was embarrassing enough; falling asleep would make it worse.
"How've you been lately?"
"Same old."
"I see."
Silence hung over the street. His steady footsteps thudded like a lullaby. The quiet wasn't bad. Sleep tugged harder.
Can't sleep.
Olivia pressed closer to him. He flinched. No idea why. Cold? Nah, it was warm. Early autumn still—no leaves turning yet. Why was he shivering in this weather?
Olivia worried over Ricardo trembling in the mild night.
"Cold?"
"No."
"Then why're you shaking?"
"It's..."
He sighed. His ears burned red.
"'Cause you're sticking too close, young lady."
"Why? Am I cold?"
"No. You're... too close. Feels nice, actually. Wait, no—no, what am I even saying..."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. You look sleepy—go ahead and rest. I won't ditch you, promise."
He knew her state without asking, always bringing what she craved, saying what she wanted to hear. The perfect butler. But tonight, she wouldn't obey.
It had been too long since they'd gone out together.
"Not sleeping."
Olivia refused flatly. Stars dotted the sky thickly. Fewer people as they neared the mansion. Felt nice. She looked at Ricardo. Same old black suit. Hiding his flushed face as he walked. Didn't he ever get bored? Always the same clothes.
But wait—something felt off. A question bubbled up in Olivia's mind.
Why did he only wear long sleeves?
Since a year ago—that day—his wardrobe had frozen at white shirts and black suits. At first, she thought something bad happened, so he stuck to black. Later, figured he had no money, so butler uniform it was.
But last summer. This summer too. Why only those? He used to wear short sleeves. In the past year she'd seen, nothing but long sleeves. Weird.
Olivia hated mysteries. She asked straight up.
Why long sleeves? Not hot?
"Ricardo, aren't you hot?"
"No. Nice and cool today."
"Really? Wear short sleeves if it's hot."
He froze, silent. Awkward smile. Her curiosity swelled.
What'd he do while she wasn't looking? Embarrassing tattoo? Gold bracelet? Her gut screamed he was hiding something under those clothes.
Hmm... Olivia leaned toward his neck. Maybe glimpse through the collar. Pretending to sleep, she squinted at his nape.
Perverted, sure, but she couldn't stand not knowing. As he walked, the shirt gaped slightly. Almost saw his skin through the gap—
"Peeping's bad, pervert."
His sharp rebuke came as he clutched his shirt shut. Her face burned. She'd thought her acting was flawless—caught red-handed. Especially peeking at her butler's body. Couldn't lift her head.
Screw it, Olivia blurted.
"I didn't see!"
"Liar. I felt your lecherous gaze."
"Not lecherous!"
"Hmm?"
"Don't look at me like that!"
Ricardo buttoned up tight. No gaps allowed. It pissed her off.
"I won't look!"
"Looking's the weird part."
Olivia vowed inwardly. One day, I'll see it for sure.