Because He's Pitiful (1)
"Hey. You hear the news?"
"What news?"
"You know that big tavern up in the upper district? Turns out they're raising a demonfolk kid there or something."
"What? A demonfolk kid?"
"Yep. A girl, they say."
"Damn. What is this place, a zoo?"
A lively bar.
Whenever patrons clinked their mugs together, the conversation always circled back to Lyuba Tavern—the very epicenter of the scandal that had once summoned a full deployment of Inquisitors, a spectacle no one had forgotten.
"A demonfolk child? I'm a bit curious myself, honestly. I've seen my share of those vicious-looking grown demonfolk, but never once a child."
"I hear she's absolutely adorable."
"Ugh, of course she is. She's a baby, isn't she? Even beasts are cute when they're little. That's just how it works."
"Cute's all that matters, really."
"Times have gotten strange indeed. Demonfolk or not, what kind of person treats a child like a sideshow and puts her to work in a tavern?"
"Well, from what I heard, they're not working her at all. Apparently she's being raised by one of the tavern's own staff?"
"And you believe that?"
Demonfolk were almost never seen in these southern provinces.
Most people here lived and died without so much as laying eyes on one.
So when word suddenly spread of a demonfolk toddler, what welled up in people wasn't hostility but curiosity. They'd been taught all their lives that demonfolk were wicked, terrifying creatures—but applying that image to a small child was a stretch even for them.
"Anyway, when the Inquisitors stormed the place, you know what that employee said?"
"What'd she say?"
"Get this—she claimed to be the Saintess! Told them to go ahead and try inquisiting her if they thought they could pull it off against a Saintess!"
"Bwahaha! A Saintess? Then I guess I'm the Saintess's granddaddy!"
Laughter erupted from every corner of the bar, loud enough to shake the walls.
What cut that laughter short was the unmistakable crash of a glass shattering against a wall.
"The Saintess. She said Saintess? What color was that woman's hair again?"
"······."
The young man who had hurled his glass at the wall rose from his seat and wove unsteadily toward the tables.
The drunkards wiped the mirth from their faces and scowled, careful not to meet his eyes.
It was a familiar ritual.
Normally he drank alone in a quiet corner, but every so often he'd kick up a scene just like this one.
Still, the drunkards could only avert their gazes—not one of them dared voice a protest.
More than a few men who had gone after him had ended up carried off to the hospital for their trouble.
Before anyone realized it, the young man was standing right at their table. He pulled off his hat and slammed it down with a thud.
"I said—what color was her hair!"
"Silver, all right? Silver with a bluish sheen, you lunatic. Quit causing scenes and drink your damn beer like a normal person!"
"······."
The drunkard's slip of the tongue—blurted out in sheer irritation—froze the whole tavern solid in an instant.
Everyone here knew the routine: say the wrong thing to this man and you'd take a low kick, shatter your leg, and crawl out of the bar in tears.
The young man stood frozen in silence, as if deliberating exactly where to strike first. The drunkards squeezed their eyes shut, bracing for the dull crunch of breaking bone.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Huh...?"
What came out of the young man's mouth was the last thing anyone expected.
The drunkard found himself clasping the outstretched hand and shaking it, utterly dumbfounded.
Had the bastard finally gotten his anger management under control?
Still pumping the man's hand, the young man shambled toward the exit with a wobbling gait.
"Thank you for the news! Really—truly, thank you!"
"Huh?"
"What the—why is this guy blocking the road making a scene?"
"GYAAAH!"
Naturally, he didn't forget to plant a fist squarely in the face of an innocent customer on his way out the door.
The drunkards clicked their tongues as they watched him saunter away, leaving his victim sprawled unconscious on the floor.
They didn't know where he was headed, but they said a quiet prayer for the souls of anyone waiting at his destination.
Wherever that man went, trouble was sure to follow.
Mostly the unpleasant kind.
***
"You really have never seen a demonfolk before, Boss?"
"Brushed past a few, sure. Some nobles have a taste for keeping them as slaves. But that's about all I know—look more or less human, and they've got a pair of horns on their head. That's the extent of it."
"I see... "
"Sorry I can't be more help."
"No, really, it's fine, Boss."
I shook my head and gave the Boss a pat on the shoulder as he scrubbed dishes.
I knew exactly how much he'd been through on my behalf. He was not a man to be dismissed as some backwater pimp. Besides, when I'd checked the pay he'd handed over yesterday, there was a hefty bonus tucked inside. Truly, the man who pays you is the most precious person in the world.
"Oh! Yulia! You haven't finished packing your things yet?"
"Huh? Packing? What things?"
"You quit today, payday! Ah—wait, that's already passed? Shouldn't you be packing up and heading out right about now?"
"Stop teasing me already... "
The moment I saw Irina's smirking face, I realized I was being strung along. I fled the kitchen, hiding my burning face.
Yes, I had once declared—loudly, in song, no less—that I was quitting this place. In the end, though, I'd decided to stay. The reason for leaving was gone, and so I'd swallowed my embarrassment and chosen to remain. When the Boss or Irina teased me about it, the urge to quit on the spot flared right back up, but I bit my lip and bore it. It was all in good fun. I could endure that much.
"Oh, right. Where's Tia?"
"On stage, singing her little heart out."
"In the little bwook! The five-dwagons! Wiggle-wiggle, they swim along!"
"That's right! Oh, wonderful, darling!"
"Next song is reserved for Three Little Bears!"
"Hey, no reservations allowed! Tia sings whatever she feels like, and we sit here and listen in silence, thank you very much!"
And so, Tia had more or less become the tavern's mascot. Even now she sat cross-legged on the stage, hugging the microphone, singing a wobbly children's song—nothing more—yet bills kept fluttering down on her from every direction.
"Ah, Tia! A devil's face with an angel's heart! Truly a Lucifer!!!"
"Encore! Encore! Encore!"
"Tia sleepy. Gonna go bed."
"Uh...?"
"You're joking, right? Tia?"
Tia abruptly stopped singing, gathered up the fallen bills into one armful, and hugged them to her chest.
Drop by whenever she felt bored, sing a round or two, then turn her back without a second thought the moment she got sleepy or hungry—on-call employment, effectively. Strictly speaking it wasn't work at all, and yet what Tia pulled in per day came close to feeding me.
My income had grown, but I hardly felt it. I was funneling a substantial amount into bribes to secure my Citizen Card.
I hadn't been born here, and I had no relatives or documents of any kind to vouch for my identity—getting citizenship through legitimate channels was simply impossible, so I had no choice. Most problems in this world dissolved in money, if you had enough of it.
"Yulia. Yulia!"
"Ah—yes. Sorry, Irina."
"Half of your paycheck went to me, remember? I sent a million of that to the guard patrol, and the rest to the Citizenship Office. Since it's being paid in installments, you'll probably need to put in the same amount for another two months at least."
"Mm-hm. Thanks, Irina."
I'd have to drop by the guard post and the Citizenship Office later and confirm the money had actually landed. Even Irina wasn't someone I could trust completely.
There was no telling when she might swallow my cash and ghost me...
"Tia. Coming upstairs to sleep?"
"······."
I called out to Tia as she shuffled past me, rubbing her eyes.
But she didn't so much as glance my way. She just kept walking.
There was no way she hadn't heard me.
I was being ignored.
That was the only conclusion I could reach.
Is she sulking at me?
Was it because I'd secretly eaten the leftover pancakes all by myself while she slept the other day? Or because I'd gotten so sick of playing tag that once I was made "it," I simply stopped chasing anyone and had a drink instead?
The more I thought about it, the more suspects came to mind, until I couldn't pin down the cause at all.
"You planning to quit once you get your citizenship?"
"Mmm. I suppose I will, then."
"You hate it here that much? Still, things have gotten easier lately, haven't they? Thanks to Tia, the troublesome customers have thinned out."
"That's true, but—this place just isn't for me. It doesn't suit me at all."
Thanks to this blessed body, I was popular enough—but for someone who had originally been a man, this line of work fit me like a glove two sizes too small. It wasn't that I wanted to trash the profession itself, but it was undeniable that society looked down on it.
There were things I simply couldn't stomach, and it was bad for Tia's upbringing too. Sooner or later, this was a place I'd have to leave.
Of course, if you asked me where exactly I'd go after leaving, I'd be hard-pressed to answer. Knowing next to nothing about this world, even drawing up a concrete plan was a struggle.
For now, the idea was to land some more respectable job and earn money, maybe enroll in some academy to learn magic, and switch careers to mage. That was probably the path that let a woman in this world stand on her own feet economically while climbing as high socially as possible.
If you removed the financial independence requirement, there was an easy, quick alternative—marrying into some minor noble house—but physiologically speaking, that was a hard no, so I'd crossed it off the list.
Hold on. Wouldn't that make me... a lesbian, by this world's standards?
The thought surfaced out of nowhere and left my head a tangled mess.
As a man, falling for a woman was only natural—but think it through, and with this body being a woman's, any attraction I felt technically counted as same-sex attraction.
Same-sex was... a bit much.
Granted, it was still far less repulsive than the alternative of dating a man.
"What is it? Why are you staring holes into me all of a sudden?"
"Nothing... "
I'd been gazing at Irina, lost in thought.
Frown at her and she looked like a third-rate villain, but when she occasionally smiled, that decadent grin of hers was devastatingly charming. It wasn't hard at all to imagine a future where I ended up dating Irina.
The problem was that, where Irina was concerned, I felt no lust whatsoever.
Maybe it was because her slender figure made it easier to find differences from a washboard than similarities? My gaze drifted to Sasha, hard at work serving tables.
"Hmm... "
A voluptuous chest and hips it would be an insult to even compare against Irina's.
Despite her petite height, she wasn't remotely chubby—just the exact brand of cute that men went for.
This is bad.
Even looking at Sasha, not a flicker of desire.
And it was absolutely, definitively not because of that enormous unicorn horn jutting from her forehead.
She was pretty. She was cute. But...
That was all it was.
Perhaps it was the fault of an entirely different hormonal system than the one I'd been born with.
What even is this...
And so I found myself in a rather awkward position.
Romantic feelings toward women, but no sexual desire toward them—a truly complicated state of affairs.
They say there's such a thing as platonic love, but honestly, setting aside Jesus and Buddha, how many people in this world can actually separate lust from love?
It appeared I was doomed never to fall in love with anyone, forever.
But really, what's love, anyway? I'd dated a few times back then, and it had seemed like no great shakes.
Marriage might be mandatory if you don't want to grow old and die alone, but I already had Tia, so that clause didn't apply to me.
At some point, Tia became part of my life.
My heart grew heavy.
The child I'd agreed to raise only because I couldn't bring myself to kill her was now, somehow, both part of my life and the very thing that drove it forward.
"I'm going to take a break. Headache."
"They'll just call you back out for the next round anyway."
"I'll at least grab ten minutes of shut-eye first."
Partly to rest, I headed upstairs.
Even in broad daylight, plenty of industrious souls were at work today—the sound of creaking bedsprings seeped through the doorframe and buzzed in my ears.
I left that now-familiar soundtrack behind and opened the door, revealing Tia's small back as she stared out the window.
She glanced at me once over her shoulder, then turned her head away without a word.
That's right. She was sulking at me.
"Mama's here."
"······."
I even rapped my knuckles on the open door as I announced myself, but she kept up the silent treatment.
I let out a long sigh, stepped inside, and started with the simple task of letting down my hair.
Only then did my scalp begin to sting and ache, drawing a wince out of me. Slowly I combed through the hair crackling with static, stealing glances at Tia all the while.
Perched against the window, Tia had flung her hat aside and kept fidgeting with her horns, touching them over and over.
"Keep that up and someone outside will see. Put your hat on."
"Why do I have to wear the hat?"
"I told you, didn't I? You can't let them find out."
"Already founded, though."
"Still, it's no good drawing eyes. Hurry up and put it on."
"Mamaaa... "
Tia spun around to face me.
Her face was, at some point, already smeared with tears.
"Why am I the only one who's different? What are these horns? Who am I?"
"······."
Clutching her horns in both small hands, Tia sobbed.
Faced with a question I had never once expected to hear, the words died in my throat.