The Evil Woman's Father -2-
Three days earlier.
The young lady, now an unlicensed driver, was practicing in the courtyard.
"Vroom vroom."
She made engine noises with her mouth while fiddling with the lever. After moving just a meter, she'd turn her head and ask, How was that?—fishing for praise on her brilliant driving skills.
I gave her a thumbs-up and said, "Slower than my grandma."
"Ricardo doesn't have a grandma."
"That's a padrip."
"...Sorry."
The young lady's timid driving skills started improving bit by bit.
"It's rolling. Deguru ru ru."
Buoyed by the constant praise, she confidently worked the stick-shift lever.
"Drift!"
And began showing off some bizarre maneuvers.
"Young lady. Reckless driving is a one-way ticket to the coffin."
"It was cool. That's all that matters."
"Who taught you that twisted mindset?"
She answered by just staring at me, saying nothing. Looked like she'd gotten inspired by the inertial drift I'd demoed earlier.
Me, her driving instructor? I couldn't even lift my head.
"Well, you've gotta try drifting at least once in life."
"Right? Too bland is boring."
She nodded and refocused on driving.
Screech. Turn right.
Screeeeech! Slam on the brakes left, pulling off a noisy stunt—then she froze, glancing at the red button on the armrest while sneaking peeks at me.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she stared at the button, fingers twitching like a gambling addict lost in euphoria. She muttered,
"Ricardo. I'm ready for takeoff."
"Too young to return to the dirt."
"Nah. I won't die."
The red button. Famously dubbed 'Can't Stop Now!' It unlocked the wheelchair's 40 km/h speed limit.
Enabled sudden acceleration, pushing past 100 km/h—the stuff of men's dreams. But on her first drive, it'd smashed through the mansion wall. Now she eyed that tragic button with glee.
"I drive good now. Best driver ever."
"Your speed into the coffin will improve too."
"It's fine. I was okay last time I hit the wall."
She recalled her intimate collision with the wall to reassure me. She trusted the built-in barrier magic of Pexri No.1.
An awkward silence hung. I stared her down—eyes manic on the button—and said firmly,
"No."
"..."
"Hey...!"
"...."
She glanced at me slyly, then—like an F1 racer tapping their helmet pre-race—banged her fist on her own helmet, nodded, and went,
"Argh!"
Vrrrrooooom!!
The moment Pexri No.1's exhaust roared to life.
"Hieeek!"
Pexri No.1 rocketed toward the mansion wall amid her death-cry shriek, like a siege weapon on wheels. I clutched my head and shook it.
"We're screwed."
Screeeeech!!
"Eeeeek!!"
The unlicensed driver's clumsy controls couldn't tame the wild beast that was Pexri No.1. She plowed it straight into the mansion's front gate.
Thud...
"Cough cough..."
Amid the thick dust cloud, she hacked away. Mumbling that her plan had been perfect in theory and blaming the wheelchair, she stared blankly at the gaping hole in the gate.
"Huh?"
Her face crumpled like the world had ended. The sturdy barrier magic kept her unscathed, but sadly, the mansion—siege fodder now—sported a massive hole.
"Hic...."
She stared at the rubble and said,
"Ricardo... I conquered the mansion."
"Splendid siege warfare, young lady."
"Thanks. But... what do we do now?"
Tears welled in her eyes. She'd demolished her entire fortune.
I smiled gently at her sniffling face and said,
"No need to worry about thieves for a while. It's an auto-gate now."
"..."
"It was already a ruin anyway—this just finished the job nicely. Haha..."
"Eeeek... Don't tease."
She drooped her head at my sarcasm. I brushed the dust from her hair as she slumped in the wheelchair, letting out a deep sigh.
Now what?
Even a rough estimate screamed two weeks of repairs. Money wasn't the issue—plenty left from donating Pascal to that insect expo. Her bracelet was a discount from a connection too.
What worried me was the wide-open gate letting in cold winds. We'd freeze into popsicles in this winter chill.
After deep thought, I nodded and told her,
"Since it's like this, how about a trip? Been ages."
"A trip?"
"Yeah. For mansion remodeling."
"Ricardo rich?"
"We can loan for the mansion fix. No worries. Let's head to the capital for once, just us."
"The capital?"
She tilted her head at the word.
The capital. Home to the academy. Full of people who hate her. People who hate me. We hadn't gone since her expulsion, but it was about time. Family head's birthday was coming.
Even exiled, we weren't rude enough to ignore it. Back home, he'd allowed a slum brat like me to become her butler—treated me warmly, even.
I figured we'd use this as an excuse to drop by, show our faces.
Not that he'll meet us.
Plus, Malik had nagged me to visit his new tteokbokki shop in the capital. For all these reasons, I asked if she'd go.
She pondered, staring at the crumbling wall, hiccuping again.
"Ugh..."
"We'll head back once repairs are done. Hit your favorite chocolate shop too—sound good?"
"Still... the capital."
She hesitated. I knew what it meant to her. Glittering past. Also packed with haters of her broken self.
No issue if we avoided crowds, but caution was key.
"Buy chocolate too."
"..."
"And shop after ages."
"No shopping cash."
"...I'll borrow plenty this time."
She smiled faintly, grabbing my hand.
"Then I'll help repay."
"Planning to glue eyes on bear dolls again?"
"Yup."
"I'll scold you."
She beamed and nodded.
"Hey Ricardo. Anything you wanna do?"
"Something I wanna do?"
Her bright smile as she spoke.
"Let's see a play."
And that's how we ended up in the capital.
Capital streets. After seeing Yuria off.
The young lady and I couldn't stop humming, shoulders bouncing as we headed to the chocolate shop. I was thrilled to splurge after ages. She was ecstatic to revisit her regular dessert spot's chocolates after two years.
Our steps were childish for adults, but hey—first trip in forever.
She said excitedly,
"Ricardo."
"Yes."
"What first? Scone? Ice cream? Or chocolate?"
Her hope circuits firing. Red helmet hid her face, but her passionate voice painted her grinning expression in my mind.
Wallet fattened by loans, I smirked arrogantly and said,
"Buy whatever catches your eye."
"Hieeek...! Ricardo, you vowed to blow it all today?"
"No."
Even to her wallet-worrier supreme, I flashed a confident grin.
"Too much for just today."
"Ooooh...! Buy the shop too?"
"...No."
Her endless greed—I just shook my head.
"Anyway, today's plan..."
I pulled a tiny notepad from my jacket's inner pocket. Packed with our capital itinerary. Written with passion, hoping it'd make unforgettable memories for her.
"10:30, chocolate shop shopping."
"Ooh..."
"Then evaluate the new tteokbokki joint that opened here."
"Sounds busy, Ricardo."
"It is."
"Liar. Nothing after."
"..."
Day 1 Travel Schedule
1. Unpack at lodging.
2. 10:30 - Chocolate shop.
3. Then to Malik's newly opened shop in the capital.
—End—
How'd she spot the blank space? Stunned by her insight, I stayed silent.
Helmeted, she nodded and said,
"Right?"
"...Yes."
Hee hee. She let out a small laugh.
About ten minutes later, we arrived at the chocolate shop—and stared up blankly.
"Uh... we're screwed?"
[CLOSED]
The massive sign in faded red screamed it, weathered by time. The shop, once thick with sweet scents, stood hollow. Her disappointment radiated indirectly.
Pure despair.
I glanced at her trembling-eyed, but she stood frozen, speechless.
"Ricardo, I think presbyopia hit me."
Rubbing her eyes to escape reality, she doffed the helmet for a closer look—but the emptiness crushed her. She couldn't hide the surge of emotion.
"N-no... this can't be."
"My condolences, young lady."
"Eeeek!!! You damn thing!"
Yelling her frustrations at the world. Glaring emptily in resentment—
A deep, middle-aged voice came from behind.
"Closed two years ago."
A sturdy voice. Unyielding, straight-backed.
The man addressed us.
"Lost the customer who made up sixty percent of sales—took a huge hit. Then competitors popped up everywhere. Been shut a while."
"My daughter loved it here."
A wistful tone. Muttered sadly, he gave a bitter smile—we could feel it.
Familiar voice.
I turned stiffly. Saw the man in deep navy uniform—and the world seemed to stop.
Black hair. Piercing, upright eyes.
The man who chooses death for his family in the novel's late arc.
"Long time no see."
Desmont family head.
Darbav Desmont stared at us.