The Hero (2)
"Mommy!"
Tia raised her voice on the spot and called for her mother at the top of her lungs.
A roar far too mighty to have come from such a tiny body rippled through the entire tavern.
In an instant, every movement in the room froze, and all eyes turned toward Tia.
With a look of grim determination on her face, Tia toddled across the floor toward the unknown young man who had his arm wrapped around her mother's waist.
"Oho, so you're Tia."
"Gib me back my mommy!"
"What a bold little thing."
When the man's hand crept toward her head, Tia stumbled backward a step.
Watching her, he flashed a grin and pulled his lips away from Yulia's ear.
"Give. Back. Mommy."
"And why would I do that? I paid a perfectly fair price for your mother's time, you know."
"M-mommy doesn't like it eider!"
Bombarded with difficult words, Tia stammered in her fluster, unable to get a full sentence out.
She had no idea what was going on, but one thing was certain: her mommy was in very deep trouble.
Right now, Mommy wasn't even bothering with her fake customer-service smile—her expression was openly, plainly unpleasant.
It was a completely different attitude from the one she gave ordinary guests.
"Yulia. You don't like it?"
"No..."
"Your mommy says she does, though?"
"Mmgh...!"
Tia's temper finally boiled over.
Why on earth was Mommy acting like this?
Everyone always said she was the type who'd smack a customer across the back of the head the moment she didn't like something.
So many people had told her those war stories—over and over, until her ears grew calluses—that she'd simply taken it as fact.
So why was Mommy making that horrible face and just...
"Well, the kid's here now, so shall we head up to the second floor, Yulia?"
"M-my Yulia doesn't do that kind of business!"
The moment the young man's fingers brushed Yulia's hair as he spoke, a chair screeched across the floor and an urgent shout erupted.
It was the huge town councilman—Yulia's most devoted fan ever since she'd cracked an ashtray over the back of his skull.
He'd been grinding his teeth and watching in silence until now, but he could bear it no longer.
"My Yulia is no cheap whore who sells her body for pocket change!"
"Cheap... whore?"
Every employee's head snapped around, and sharp glares bored into the councilman.
He flinched and shrank back for a moment, but he had absolutely no intention of backing down.
The young man, however, paid him not the slightest attention, continuing to murmur quietly into Yulia's ear.
"So? Are you coming upstairs or not?"
"I'll come up..."
See? the young man's eyes seemed to say, and the councilman froze solid on the spot.
Yulia, her waist pinned against the man's arm, wore a face that clearly said she hated every second of it—yet without a single word of protest, she obediently headed for the stairs.
That day, the councilman's world collapsed.
Tia's world collapsed too.
Another troublesome bastard has latched onto me.
I'd curled up on a chair in the break room and fallen asleep, only to be woken by the sound of something shattering. I let out a long, deep sigh.
I really, really did not want to go out there right now.
The moment I showed my face, I knew exactly what would happen—I'd be seated right next to that troublemaker.
I figured the boss, an ex-knight, would handle it somehow, so I closed my eyes again. Maybe five minutes passed.
"I'd like to request some company, you know? What's taking the girls so long? Doesn't anyone do lineups around here?"
"Ugh..."
That whining, cicada-screech of a voice was still going strong.
Why on earth hadn't they thrown out a drunk who smashed glasses every five minutes already?
Partly to demand an answer from the boss, I ruffled up my hair and stepped outside.
"Boss. What exactly is going on?"
"Ah, ah. I've got a feeling today's going to be exhausting."
"Then don't be exhausted—just throw him out."
"Mm. Haaah. Well, you see..."
The boss scratched the back of his head, struggling to get the words out.
"Turns out that guy's a famous drunk from the village down the hill."
"So what?"
"Apparently he's a gifted martial artist. They say more than a dozen people who picked fights with him ended up half-crippled. And word is House Dragonia backs him, so the smart move is to humor him and send him on his way. Thankfully, he doesn't cause real trouble beyond smashing the occasional cup, so..."
"So you're telling me to deal with him?"
"Wh-what? No! Well, you never know. I was going to do a lineup and maybe he'd pick someone other than—"
"Hey, hey. All of you, get lost. No lineup needed. Hey, you—the silver-haired girl! Get over here and sit next to me."
"...I'm sorry."
At the voice from behind me, I squeezed my eyes shut.
I knew this was going to happen.
I shot the boss a look, received a his tiny, mouse-dropping of an apology, and spun around.
Behind the flood of employees retreating to the break room, I spotted him—a man sitting at a table with his legs crossed.
He looked remarkably young, but the eyepatch suggested an injury from some battlefield or brawl.
That lazy, slithering smile that never left his lips made my face scrunch up all on its own.
He looks like a damned mantis shrimp.
"Yes, you. Hurry up and come sit. Don't worry—I tip very, very generously."
"Thank you for requesting me, sir. I'm Yulia."
"Yulia? Hm. A pretty name. Yulia. Yulia..."
Hearing my name, the man stroked his chin as if deliberating something.
His jaw and philtrum were perfectly smooth—not a trace of stubble on them.
Don't tell me they do permanent hair removal here too?
This guy's so gay.
And I hear he wears makeup, too.
I forced down the twist trying to curl my lips and walked to the seat beside him.
"Hngh?!"
Suddenly the chair lurched sideways and slammed flush against his.
When his hand naturally began sliding toward my thigh, I slapped it away.
Creepy bastard.
I glanced back at the boss. He was pounding his head against the air, mouthing, I am SO sorry!!!
I'm putting up with this because of you, boss.
I exhaled slowly and smothered the anger.
We were sitting so close that his thigh pressed against mine, and it was thoroughly repulsive.
Okay. Just be as businesslike as possible.
Get him to call someone else.
"I appreciate the request, sir, but please refrain from physical contact. By regulation, any physical contact an employee hasn't consented to is strictly forbidden."
"Hahaha. My bad. So all I have to do is get your consent, then?"
"..."
The man grinned slyly, staring hard into my face.
He was definitely handsome, but no amount of charm was going to win me over.
I used to be a man, after all.
I put up with all sorts of services for regulars out of necessity, but there was no reason to be gracious to some one-day customer like this.
"Hyaah?!"
"Consenting now?"
"...No."
When his arm suddenly wrapped around my waist, I let out an involuntary yelp of protest.
I let every ounce of my irritation show on my face, unfiltered.
And still, the man just kept wearing that smug little smile, clearly entertained.
"Let go of me. I'm going to have you removed."
"Removed? Me? By whom? Be my guest if you can manage it."
"I'll report you to the guard."
"You'd call the guard over one customer? Do that and this place gets marked. Your protection fee to the guard goes up. Don't. It's a burden on your boss."
"You've been warned. If you don't let go right now..."
My hand swept across the table, searching for the ashtray.
The sensation of his flesh pressed against mine made my skin crawl.
That's it. I can't take any more of this.
Something itchy and restless was crawling under my skin, and I had the feeling that if I let this go on, I wouldn't be myself anymore.
I squeezed my eyes shut, just about to swing the ashtray—
"Or what? What'll you do if I don't, Saintess?"
"...?!"
My whole body froze as if paralyzed.
Saintess?
He has to be joking. Right?
"Yulia. A pretty name. Using a name like that is why the church can't find you. They don't know so much as your eye color, let alone your face. I hear the village you were hiding in got burned to ash by a dragon. What on earth did you do to earn a dragon's wrath?"
"..."
I'm dead.
My instincts told me immediately that this was no bluff.
Someone who knew me.
No—someone who had known Yulia, before I possessed her body.
An acquaintance of Yulia from the days when she went by another name...
"What exactly have you been up to lately, that the church would set the dogs on you?"
"Ah... um..."
The hand wrapped around my waist felt ice-cold with menace.
Was he with the church?
How much did he know about me—no, about the Saintess?
It was obvious he knew me better than I knew myself.
And if I had answered the church's summons, I never would have walked out alive...
A chill shot down my spine.
"You're even raising a child. Tia, was it? A demon child."
"..."
I wanted to say something—anything—but my lips were trembling too hard for words to come.
This is insane.
I'm scared out of my mind.
More terrifying than the fact that this unknown man knew everything about me was the realization, dawning far too late, that all this time I'd been tightrope-walking along the edge of death without even knowing it.
"So? Feeling a little more willing to consent to some physical contact now?"
The man asked again, loud and sly.
All I could do was let my head drop and answer.
"Yes..."
I had no choice but to admit it.
That this man held my lifeline in his hands.
That even now, he could seize my wrist and drag me straight to the church.
Pull yourself together.
Which was exactly why I had to keep my head clearer than ever.
The fact that he hadn't sold me off to the church meant I had value to him.
I needed to figure out, quickly, just how much I was worth in his eyes.
Only then could I hope to negotiate my way out of this somehow.
"What's gotten into you? All tame and docile all of a sudden?"
"Let's just say I was frightened by your violent nature."
"Ah, right. Almost forgot my act. Why does every damn drink in this place taste like gutter water! Bring me something else!"
Crash.
The man, who had been speaking so gently, hurled his glass against the wall without warning.
"Haaah. Honestly, playing the brutish drunk is exhausting work."
"..."
Doesn't seem like an act to me.
Those words kept circling the edge of my lips.
Anyway—what on earth did this bastard want from me?
There were limits to how long we could keep up this murmured, whispered conversation.
First, we needed to be alone.
I'd have to tell him I was stepping out for a quick smoke.
The moment I opened my mouth to say just that—
"Mommy!"
At the familiar voice, my head turned.
There she was: Tia, brows knitted in anger, walking slowly toward me.
Oh no. Not right now.
The man had already turned the gaze he'd gathered from me toward Tia.
"Oho, so you're Tia."
As he studied her little body from head to toe with visible interest, his smile gradually drained away.
His expression turned deadly serious, and he tilted his head toward my ear to whisper.
"She's no demon, is she. Those horns—hm. Are those a dragon's horns?"
"...!"
His voice was rough, edged with fury.
Startled, I flinched and trembled.
I nearly toppled backward, and he tightened his arm to catch me.
I am truly, thoroughly dead.
I walked straight into the wrong man today.
Not only did he know I was the Saintess—he could see straight through to Tia's true nature.
I had to get rid of this man, whatever it took.
"Well, the kid's here now, so shall we head up to the second floor, Yulia?"
"..."
I had to go up.
That was the only way to be alone with him.
The only way to hear what he wanted from me.
And, if fortune allowed, the only way to find my chance to kill him.
The grip around my wrist was tightening by the second, and I felt my brows knit against my will.
"So? Are you coming upstairs or not?"
"I'll come up..."
When the question came again a moment later, I answered immediately.
I didn't want Tia to see me like this. But there was truly no other choice.
Leaving Tia standing there, utterly devastated as if the sky had fallen on her, I headed for the second floor.
I had to settle things with this mantis shrimp of a man.
Alone, just the two of us.