Don't Meddle - 2
Swish.
Yuria slowly opened her eyes. The bright streetlamp light pierced them, making her wince. Had she passed out for a bit? The scene before her wasn't the pitch-black alley anymore—it was a peaceful street lit by lamps, lined with shops and couples strolling by. Her wrist, still stinging from the big man's grip, throbbed, but the surroundings flowed on indifferently, calm and untroubled by her turmoil.
Tension drained from her body. I'm safe now, she thought, her strength ebbing away.
"Thank goodness..."
The passing people said as much. The swaying streetlamps did too. Now safe...? The streetlamps are swaying...?
Yuria touched the surface she lay on. It was soft and cushioned. Turning her eyes downward, she spotted a flashy pink pillow.
"Huh...?"
A chill of foreboding crept over her. Dread filled her mind—what if—when a faint jolt vibrated through her back.
A voice slinked out beside her, sharp as a stray cat's yet languid. "It's cramped..."
In the corner of the handcart crouched Lady Olivia, shoulders hunched. White-haired and clad in a black dress, she met Yuria's gaze, then awkwardly turned away toward the outside.
"The weather's... nice."
Her forced words, staring at the darkening sky, made Yuria's head throb. How long has this been going on? She'd come on a preliminary scout with Mikhail and Ruin. While the two had stepped away to buy gifts, things had gone south. She'd pitied a begging kid and dropped a pouch of gold coins into his tin can, then chased after him when she spotted him getting beaten in an alley... Ah.
The puzzle pieces of memory clicked into place, and her vision widened.
-Bite him!
-...That's my line.
-Bite him...!
Her face burned hot. I'm insane...!
Now she noticed the red-haired butler sweating as he vigorously pulled the cart. Ricardo, that was his name.
I've burdened him again.
Ricardo glanced back, confirmed she was awake, and greeted her with a small smile.
"You're up?"
His voice carried genuine concern—the same voice that had bolstered her during her gloomy days at the academy.
"You suddenly fainted, so... sorry about that."
"...You could've just left me."
"Didn't cross my mind. Haha..."
Ricardo kept pulling the cart, flashing an awkward smile as he apologized. Sorry for laying her in such a shabby spot, wasn't her butt sore, and so on—he steered the conversation. It felt awkward. Sitting in the handcart. Owing Ricardo another debt. The word again looped endlessly in her mind.
Ha... this is driving me crazy.
She couldn't lift her head. Partly from the awkwardness. Partly because she had no idea what to say. She should thank him, but the words wouldn't come. Was it pride? Or the lady beside her? She didn't know what expression to make.
-Glance...
"Uh... um..."
Olivia was watching her warily. Not daring to speak. Shooting pleading eyes that screamed don't talk to me.
Thud. The cart hit a bump, and Yuria's butt jarred painfully.
"Ow..."
Olivia, seeing her grimace, scooted deeper into the corner, timidly patting the cart floor.
"Sit here..."
A sharp retort slipped out reflexively. "Don't worry about it."
Olivia turned away sulkily and muttered, "It's my handcart..."
Yuria had no clue what to say to Olivia—the girl who'd tormented her in the past. Nothing nice would come out. She didn't want to pretend nothing had happened, and after those two, she'd sworn off foolishly forgiving people.
Crouched in the handcart, she waited for time to pass. As Olivia began nodding off, Ricardo—his red mop of hair tousled—gently laid her in the corner on the soft cushion.
"You must've been really shocked."
"..."
His sudden words of comfort sealed her lips. Asking so gently was cheating. She stared at her palms in silence. Her fidgeting fingers, picking at her nails, shamefully betrayed her embarrassment.
Ricardo chuckled awkwardly and shifted topics. "Where's your group?"
"...At the square."
"The square? We went completely the wrong way. Who'd you come with...?"
"Mikhail and Ruin."
Ricardo fell quiet. He smiled awkwardly, murmured "I see," and trudged silently toward the square. As her companions came into view, searching frantically for her, the silent Ricardo parked the cart in a deserted spot and spoke softly.
"Miss Yuria."
"Yes?"
"Are you really okay? Any injuries?"
His concern sounded sweeter than ever. So formal, yet it touched her deeply. She hated her foolishly racing heart.
Ricardo sighed deeply. "We always meet in these situations. Feels like all I do is worry."
Always... Doubt flickered. Always showing up like a hero in the nick of time.
Yuria almost asked, but Ricardo preempted her.
"Just to be clear, I didn't orchestrate this."
"I... know."
"Your face screams suspicion."
Yuria covered her face with her hands. That obvious?
Ricardo smiled awkwardly and extended a hand to her in the cart. "Can you walk?"
"...Yes."
"Good."
She gazed at the square. Spotting Ruin dashing about in search of her, she raised a hand to wave—I'm here, don't worry—slowly lifting it.
"Wait."
Ricardo urgently caught her wrist, gentle despite his haste. He sighed deeply at the fresh bruises blooming blue.
Her chest tickled oddly.
"What's this?"
"Ah... hurt it earlier. It's fine."
"Fine my ass...!"
His genuine irritation rang in her ears. He pulled ointment from his palm-sized bag, squeezed some onto her hand, and grumbled bluntly.
"How's that fine? Your wrist is black and blue."
She remembered him saying something similar back when the young ladies had bullied her to tears.
-Were you here?
You're fast.
-Why... did you follow?
-Isn't this precious?
Handing her the pendant the noble girls had tossed into the pond, grinning like an idiot as he pressed it into her palm. His red-haired face, seaweed dangling ridiculously from his head as he offered her mother's keepsake. The images overlapped relentlessly.
-Sniff... Th-thank you...!
-Why cry again?
-...I didn't.
-You're such a fool. Really.
It confused her every time. Was he truly bad, or just a good actor? He kept making her doubt.
"There. No heavy lifting, and have Ruin fetch your water."
Ricardo knelt on one knee, applying the ointment to her wrist. His crouched form felt unfamiliar yet evoked memories from early last semester. He nagged—not like Mikhail or Ruin's nags, but brutally realistic ones.
Not Your reckless bravery is cool like Mikhail's praise, or How can your heart be so pure? like Ruin's admiration. Ricardo's words would've stung from anyone else.
"Someone who can't even take a goblin alone—why go in there?"
"A goblin's nothing..."
"You can't even cast Fireball, and you think you can handle goblins?"
"..."
"That was really dangerous."
She shot back. She'd done the right thing, or so she thought. The academy had taught her that, and she'd lived believing justice was absolute.
Yuria vented her frustration at Ricardo. "Still, if I hadn't stepped in, that kid would've kept getting beat. Might've gone hungry tonight."
"Maybe. Or he could've gotten beaten half to death, had his begging money stolen, and sobbed into his empty stomach."
Ricardo said it flatly, emotionlessly—as if he'd lived it.
"But you nearly got hurt."
Her fists clenched. Why do you care? You're supposed to be the bad guy who tormented me. If only he were consistent, she could hate him.
So she snapped harder, lacing it with stop confusing me.
"But I could've given him hope. Hope for tomorrow. Hope that not everyone's bad. That somewhere out there, decent adults exist...!"
Ricardo smiled awkwardly. "Still. It was dangerous."
Gazing at the brightly lit square, he turned back. The lamplight cast him in a cold glow; Yuria swallowed hard.
"What if, by some slim chance, something happened to you?"
"Happened to me?"
"Pardon?"
"What if something happens to me? Isn't that what you want? At the academy, even now—you wish I'd mess up, right?"
Ricardo smiled awkwardly, scratching his head and muttering "You're right..." Her heart ached at the sight.
"But. If you got hurt, it'd hurt me too."
"Pardon?"
"Just is."
He turned lightly and pushed the cart onward. Gently settling the soundly sleeping lady's head on the cushion, he walked in silence before speaking.
"And, Miss Yuria."
He trailed off, staring wordlessly at the alley's direction, gripping the handles tight.
"Not everyone's good."
Ricardo eyed the square. Spotting Ruin running toward her, he bowed his head and steered the cart away.
As he slowly receded, his final words lingered. "Don't meddle."
Layered with meanings. She doubted she'd heed it. And her heart pounded all the same.
Yuria called to his departing back. "Ricardo."
"Yes?"
"Are you really a bad person?"
He chuckled softly. "Yeah. A real bastard."
Night shadows cloaked the alley. The vagrants' raucous chatter shattered the dawn's quiet. Boisterous laughter and tall tales filled the late hour—it was a contest of who was the bigger scum.
-If not for that guy, we'd have scored big.
-Kya~ This kid's acting gets better by the day.
-Hyung, you need acting lessons. Thought we'd get caught 'cause you were so obvious.
-Hahaha!! Teach me then. How's the spot that got hit?
-If it hurt that bad, I'd be dead already.
These were the thugs who'd targeted Yuria. Their talk started with crude gossip about her, then crossed lines entirely. Amid it, a chilling voice echoed from the alley's corner.
"You think so too?"
A black shadow fell across the entrance. A red-haired man's silhouette blocked the moonlight.
The vagrants drew daggers from their clothes. The honed blades glinted off his red hair.
"Looks like unfinished business. Right?"
The redhead dragged his sword along the ground as he approached.
Scraaaape.
The sharp, icy scrape reverberated through the alley.
"You gotta read your mark for dirty work. Helps you last in this game."
I raised my sword. To settle the earlier equation.
Familiar faces. The kid Yuria had saved. The burly guy who'd grabbed her wrist. Even the skinny one who'd drugged the handkerchief.
A feral grin split my lips at their fear.
"Won't kill you. Not that bad a guy..."
"But fold up shop. Should cover your lives."
My red hair soaked in blood.
*
Groans echoed. Blood pooled thick on the ground as the vagrants dragged their fallen comrade into the depths.
-Thud... thud...
New footsteps approached. A small shadow crossed the moonlit alley.
I looked up. "Long time no see."
Silver-haired, sword in hand—the sub-male lead.
"Mikhail."
He glared like I was trash.