Don't Meddle -1-
[Closed Every Tuesday]
Blink. Blink. The young lady rubbed her eyes, and I did the same.
"Ricardo, I think something's in my eye."
"Same here."
I set down the handle of the rickshaw and gazed up at the clear sky. Not a single cloud in sight—perfect weather for tearing into some meat... But the sign declaring the place closed had crushed our spirits, the young lady and me alike.
We stared blankly into space for about a minute. Her eyes trembled as she fixed them on the sign hanging by the door, and I clenched my lips, sensing something was deeply wrong. With a thud, she flopped back onto the rickshaw.
"This can't be real."
"The world's clearly trying to starve me to death."
Gazing emptily at the sky, the young lady poured out her resentment toward the world. I'd laid a soft cushion on the rickshaw bed, so it wasn't uncomfortable, but her expression—lips slightly parted, sprawled out like a homeless person cursing the world—was priceless. If I just handed her a bottle of soju, we could've recreated Seoul Station right there.
She muttered on about how the world was screwing her over.
"This is noble abuse. We need a trial."
"...Do we have the money?"
"No."
She sank even deeper into gloom. Our rare outing had ended in failure. We'd mustered the courage to come out, only to find that damned closed sign waiting. We hadn't even prepped dinner, and now our grand plans were crumbling to dust.
The young lady looked at me, demanding an alternative. I flashed an awkward smile and whistled idly. When you can't have what you were craving, nothing else will satisfy you. Back in my past life, the orphanage director once announced chicken for dinner, then brought home tteokbokki instead. That tteokbokki tasted like absolute garbage because my mind was stuck on chicken, and I whined "Hiiing..." the whole time. That's why I hesitated to suggest anything now.
Was there no way? Besides Forest Friend, what could fill the young lady's growling stomach?
Seeing her look like she'd lost all purpose in life, I asked cautiously.
"Is there anything you'd like to eat?"
"...Nothing."
Her mood soured, she pouted and sighed.
"Come on, don't be like that. Let's grab something else. Saves on coupons too."
"..."
Not wanting to just head home, she gave a small nod. Our fancy meal out had flopped, but the outing wasn't over yet. Breathing fresh air, feeling the cool autumn breeze, admiring the fall leaves—it wouldn't be so bad.
I gripped the rickshaw handle and rolled the wheels. On the bumpy road, I glanced back, worried her butt might hurt, but she was lost in her empty sky-gaze, indifferent to jolts or sudden stops, fully immersed in her life crisis.
"I'm so bummed. I wanted to stuff myself with meat."
"Me too. I was really looking forward to a ton of meat. What a shame."
"Hmm... Ricardo."
"Yes."
Savoring the autumn breeze from her rickshaw bed, she peeked at me slyly and brought up something trivial.
"What do you want to eat, Ricardo?"
"Me?"
"Yeah."
She nodded faintly. Knowing she hated "anything," I pondered deeply. Something she'd like, not boring... Steak was out. Cake, which she loves... nah, that didn't fit her question. She'd probably say "let's just go home" if I mentioned cake.
-Rattle.
The rickshaw wheels rolled on a bit longer. She poked her head out, glancing around restlessly.
"It's been ages since we came here."
Here...? The street lined with street vendors. The market. Full of snacks like chicken skewers and cotton candy.
The delicious smells sparked life in her eyes. Just like that, I'd decided on dinner without trying. Luck had freed me from choice paralysis.
I turned back to her.
"How about eating here? Like a buffet—we can try everything we want."
"R...really?"
I nodded slightly.
"Doesn't it bring back old memories? Feels nice. If you're okay with it, we could grab dinner here, pick up some bath salts, and head home."
"Bath salts...! Mint chocolate bath salts!"
"No, not those."
She nodded vigorously in agreement. I gripped the handle and shot her a "ready?" look.
"Gear four, then."
"Hiet?!"
She clutched the handle tight and gulped.
"Can't we do second gear?"
"Sorry. I'm a noble steed—I can't control my speed."
Her timid protest failed to sway my explosive legs. I'd made a seatbelt, after all. Speeding should be fine.
Eyes squeezed shut, she pounded the railing and declared bravely.
"D...departure!"
Her scream echoed down the street.
"Mmm. So good. Try some, Ricardo."
Skewers piled in both hands, she chewed happily and offered me one. A bizarre-looking skewer. The frog from that hopping song—front leg out, back leg out—was impaled on it. The young lady, a true pacifist of this era who ignored appearances if it tasted good, beamed as she held out the frog skewer.
"This is delicious."
"..."
"Seriously, it's good."
"...Pass."
I tilted my head back and pointed to the chicken skewer in her left hand.
"How about that one? Looks tasty."
"This...? No, it's mine."
She eyed me with denial. She'd saved the good stuff for herself, but that's what makes stealing it so satisfying. With my big sparkling cat-like eyes, she shoved half the chicken skewer in her mouth and tremblingly offered the rest.
"...Young lady, are you secretly a purple alien?"
"Purple alien?"
"There's this monster that splits everything in half."
"Evil monster."
"You're... evil too.."
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
I took the offered skewer and covered my mouth to hide my chewing. Streetlights flickered on, drawing crowds. Families enjoying the night market. Couples on dates. And slum kids blending in to pickpocket.
As people thronged the streets, the young lady shrank into the rickshaw corner, glancing around furtively. If eyes met, she'd awkwardly bow her head and gnaw on an empty skewer stick. I steered us to less crowded spots.
The crowds thickened. Stares multiplied. Panic set in for her.
"Hiek..."
"Too many people."
A high noble sensitive to gazes. Once basking in admiration, now pitying looks burdened her. She'd lived for envy, not sympathy. Ashamed of her fallen state, I patted my still-hungry belly loudly.
"Ahh... I'm stuffed!"
She looked up at me. Her pale face hit me with regret—should've done this sooner. Trembling, she asked.
"F...full?"
"Yeah, totally full. Must've grazed on too much random stuff—belly's packed already."
Color returned to her face. She wanted to go home. Badly. Just in case, I checked.
"Aren't you full, young lady?"
She patted her belly firmly and nodded.
"Yeah. Full."
Lips twitching, she hesitated to say "let's go," just watching me. Worried it'd inconvenience me, or cut the outing short on her account. Peeking from under her hat, debating.
Honestly, I was disappointed too. Still hungry, hadn't wandered much. But fulfilling the master's wishes is a butler's duty, and we could come back. I gave her a reassuring look.
"Shall we head back now? Grab bath salts on the way—timing'll be perfect."
"...Yeah? Won't you be sad?"
"Nah."
Her face brightened.
"Then let's go?"
"Yes, I'll take it slow."
I pulled the rickshaw without hesitation. On the way to the shop, we chatted idly about bath salts—definitely no mint chocolate. Then.
"Ricardo."
She pointed to a dingy alley. The slums where vagrants lived. Hamel's dark underbelly behind the bright streets—not kidnappings or hits like in the capital, but home to orphans and strays. Pointing there, she said curiously.
"Isn't that Yuria?"
A familiar name she shouldn't utter here.
"Nah, no way."
"There, pink hair."
Doubt crept in, but my steps turned toward the alley. Slums are dangerous. Especially for women. Why would naive Yuria, who sees only the world's light, go in there? Wait, she's the heroine—she'd dive right in. Meddlesome idiot.
I sighed deeply and wheeled closer. Noisy voices erupted.
-What are you doing right now!?
-Mind your business, miss~
A thug's mocking tone and a familiar woman's voice. I sighed again. Fearless girl. The thugs speaking casually meant she was alone. Heroes would've handled it if she had company.
Voices rose; I quickened my pace.
-I saw it clearly. I saw you take the money I gave that kid. Give it back!
-No, you saw wrong, lady. Hey, did I take your money?
-...N...no.
Things were turning bad. Thugs gathered at the noise; Yuria was solo.
-Y'know, miss, you're pretty cute.
-...What?
-Bet you'd fetch a good price.
-Let go!
-Boss, just drug her?
I parked the rickshaw in a quiet spot and asked permission.
"Young lady..."
Yuria panicked. She'd tried to save a poor kid, but big guys swarmed. The man with the dagger terrified her. The one dragging her deeper by the wrist scared her more. She couldn't break free. No one helped.
Terror locked her legs.
"Let go! I'll scream!"
"Scream away. See if anyone comes."
The brute gripped her wrist crudely, pulling her into the depths. So scary. Too scary. Someone, help. Should've learned self-defense magic. She regretted scorning harmful spells. Tears welled from fear.
Was helping the beaten kid wrong? Walking alone? Either way, terrifying. An academy boy's words flashed by.
-Don't meddle, Yuria. Not teasing—I'm worried.
Too late for regrets. She struggled, but got vile curses.
"Stay still! Before I kill you..."
Then.
"Kill? Who."
A man's silhouette in the alley gap.
"Don't breathe. You're polluting the air."
A familiar redhead. The man she hated most approached, eyes glowing red. And.
"You fuck! This is my turf!"
The villainess on his back.
"Ricardo! Bite!"
"That's my line."
"Bite!"
"No, I'm posing right now."
"Grrr! Bite!"
"Sigh..."
Yuria's legs gave out; she collapsed there.
"Ricardo! Yuria's dead!"
"Don't kill the perfectly fine person."
"Hiek...!"
As her eyes shut, the thugs' screams rang out.