PHIM 02

Chapter 02

At most, he looked about thirteen. Even estimating on the high side, he was a very small child.

His hair color was strange—like someone had layered several paints on top of each other, creating a subtly unsettling hue.

“Uh… uh…”

Perhaps noticing my gaze, the boy twitched his hand and let out a whimper.

At first, he only moved his fingers, but as time passed, it seemed he gained some strength in his arms and desperately crawled forward. His outstretched fingertips soon brushed against my shoe.

Tap, tap.

The boy fiddled with the tip of my shoe with his tiny hand, then suddenly lifted his head and met my eyes.

Flinch.

The boy froze. His gaze had fallen on my hair. It was an obvious reaction. My eyes and hair were a mix of gold, symbolizing life, and black, symbolizing death.

“…Yeah, well, it’s not really my business to care that much.”

I answered Merihen belatedly while staring into the boy’s frozen eyes.

“Really?! Then… I really get to take him?”

“…! No… No, you can’t.”

Had he realized I was talking about him? The boy gripped the hem of my pants tightly with his small, unimpressive hands.

His eyes pleaded with mine.

“I despise clichés.”

It was just like in those novels where people possessed by the story try to avoid clichés, yet they end up doing every clichéd thing anyway. One of those was constantly picking up something.

And yet, such a mundane cliché had appeared before me. One hundred times out of a hundred, picking it up was bound to drag me into the original story’s plot.

Of course, the boy in front of me had nothing in common with the original characters, especially the male lead.

His small face, large eyes in proportion to it, and tightly pressed lower lip made him resemble a fragile prey animal that could collapse at a mere touch.

His hair, painted in dull layers of color, and his strangely colored eyes gave off an unpleasant impression, but the delicate lines of his face erased any sense of discomfort.

His face resembled a rabbit, completely unrelated to the novel’s male lead, a cold, platinum-haired, blue-eyed beauty.

Compared to Heiden Berto, now seventeen, this little one was at most thirteen.

But story developments are unpredictable. The only solution I could take, without interfering with even a bit of the original plot, was simple:

I just wouldn’t save this child.

‘Although, calling it “saving” is a bit odd. It’s not like he’s being mistreated.’

Technically, Merihen had spent her own money to buy a young attendant, so did I really need to help?

“No… no, please…”

Sensing my thoughts, the boy shook his head desperately.

As his thumb dug into the inside of my pants, his tender skin brushed against my ankle.

Warm and soft. That feeling wavered my resolve, but I didn’t change my mind.

Ignoring the boy’s desperate gaze, I turned my eyes back to Merihen.

“You’re going to use him as an attendant?”

“Huh? Ah, yes! Would I lie to you?”

Merihen’s voice sounded anxious as she answered.

“Good.”

“Huh? What did you say…?”

Surprised by my response, Merihen blinked and asked again.

I repeated myself in a loud voice, enough for the boy at my feet to hear.

“Take him. Don’t worry about such trivial things.”

“Really? Really, Louisa?”

Merihen gripped my arm tightly, her eyes searching mine for confirmation. Curiosity, joy, and doubt mingled in her gaze.

My arm, caught in hers, was smeared with blood—probably from carrying the corpse earlier.

Maybe that was it. An irritating sense crept up from my grabbed arm. I yanked it away sharply and said,

“I’ve been deceived too long. Take him. But…”

“But…?”

Merihen, who had been hastily grabbing the boy, froze mid-step.

Why was she trembling over something like this? I wasn’t some cruel master who would snatch him back after giving him.

“Take either this or him.”

I gestured toward the sprawled corpse. Merihen pushed it aside with her foot, then nonchalantly nodded as if nothing had happened.

“Of course. What’s this anyway? Was it originally mine? Hoho.”

Then she effortlessly slung the boy over her shoulder.

“Ugh, please, let me go…!”

“Oh, don’t worry. Who said anyone would hurt you? You just need to clean my house.”

Merihen spoke gently to the boy, who was desperately reaching out to me, yet his eyes remained fixed on me.

‘Why?’

I was bewildered. Why cling to me so desperately? Doesn’t my appearance make me look worse?

When I touched my face, wondering if my appearance had shifted to something ordinary, Merihen quickly blocked the boy’s eyes.

“I’ll be off now! Our house is a bit messy, you know.”

It was obvious she was worried I might change my mind.

Merihen firmly grabbed the struggling boy and hurriedly left.

The faint pleas of the boy lingered in my ears.

“Please… save me!”

Sword Masters are bad at this. You end up hearing things you don’t want to.

I tried to erase the voice ringing in my ears like tinnitus and headed home. It didn’t take long to arrive.

Dragging my unusually exhausted body, I entered the shower and turned on the water, suddenly recalling the plan to revisit the battlefield.

“Ah, forget it. Just rest.”

Showering and then heading back out to work? That made no sense. It would be a betrayal to the shower.

I increased the water pressure. Whether it was about the battlefield or the boy I had just met, everything would be washed away.

Standing under the fierce water like some sort of enlightenment under a waterfall, nothing remained in my mind.

Feeling refreshed, I left the shower, watched the sunset outside, and for the first time in a while, cut into a beef steak.

Beef really is the king of meat—it was phenomenal. Add some wine, and the day ended quite satisfactorily.

But what kind of world is this? A world desperate to plant flags on someone possessed by a story.

Collect enough tiny clichés, and they turn into major plot flags.

And sure enough, the world drove another trauma flag straight into me.

‘This sucks.’

What time did I sleep? Late evening, I think.

Of course, the exact time no longer mattered. Whether it was early evening or early morning, this dream would inevitably come.

But… this sucks, right? I didn’t save a single child, and now I’m punished with this dream?

‘This will be your home from now on.’

Even as I grumbled, the dream continued. Viewed from a third-person perspective, this was my first memory of life.

Watching it like a play, it all felt cliché and boring. Not even that traumatic.

It was just a replay of my time in the orphanage.

I don’t recall the exact emotions back then, but I must have been happy enough.

Everyone was kind, and I enjoyed being with the other kids. Of course…

‘Chani, I’m your grandfather. Do you want to go home with me?’

I was even happier once my grandfather appeared.

I still remembered the large, warm, wrinkled hand that held mine. The gray sky finally seemed to turn blue.

When I tried to look at the grandfather’s face I could no longer see, the scene changed in an instant.

This time, it was the battlefield.

“Please! Anyone! Help me!”

…Ah. So that’s why.

Now I understood why I had this dream.

‘It had been ten years, and I had completely forgotten.’

There was a time when I, like that boy, had clung to someone’s feet and begged for my life.

On the first day after being possessed, when I was only nine, my parents shoved me into a battlefield.

They probably thought I had gone mad, seeing my personality suddenly change. In the chaos of war, there was no treatment, barely even the capacity to manage me.

Maybe they instinctively realized I wasn’t really their child.

Still, I was lucky.

I had a vast amount of mana, enough that even seasoned Sword Masters would struggle to contend with me. In other words, I had the minimum weapon needed to survive the battlefield.

And more…

‘Child, will you take my hand and survive this battlefield?’

The warm, wrinkled hand approached me once more.

The dream ended with me holding my grandfather’s hand.

I opened my eyes to a pitch-black ceiling. Touching my forehead, I realized I was sweating.

“…I guess some guilt still lingers after all.”

I let out a short laugh. I thought such feelings had long faded.

Shaking off the lethargy from the nightmare, I got up immediately. If I lay back down, I’d dream the nightmare again.

I thought about going to Merihen’s house, but quickly dismissed it. I didn’t want to follow the cliché just because of one dream.

Yet, as always, I had been arrogant. Flags didn’t vanish so easily.

“AAAAAH!”

I shot up in bed, ruffling my hair. My body felt heavy, my neck stiff. Dark circles must have already sunk two centimeters by now.

“How long do I have to keep having these awful dreams?”

It was the fourth day already. Exhausting.

These past few nights, I had barely slept because every time I closed my eyes, I dreamed nightmares.

I needed to see if that little boy was okay, at least once. Otherwise, the nightmares would haunt me forever.

All of this was because of what the boy did and said at the end.

Why did he cling to my pant leg, begging for his life?

Pressing my sleepy eyes shut, I forced myself up. Outside, the sun was slowly rising.

“Alright. I’ll just go check for a moment.”

I just needed to see if Merihen had kept her word. Confirming that the boy was calmly working as an attendant would let me rest easy next time.

After quickly preparing, I headed out. Since it was February, the air was still chilly.

Maybe I should’ve worn a coat. I glanced at the door and propelled myself with magic.

Wind or no wind, the coat wouldn’t matter.

Before I even felt the cold, I soared through the air.

Merihen’s house was quite far, but thanks to my speed, I arrived in mere minutes.

Bang, bang!

I knocked on the door hard with my frozen hands.

Too hard. The surface cracked. I realized my strength too late and stopped.

Then…

Creak—

Bang!

“…Oops.”

I hadn’t expected it to break so easily…

I peeked inside Merihen’s house. The living room was cooler than I expected, even colder than outside.

Feeling my temperature drop, I swept my arms. In the corner, a small figure crouched with ears covered.

A thin, frail body, little hands with rough skin. Hair of unsettling color poking out from a thin blanket.

It was the boy I knew.

I quickly bent down toward him. He was trembling.

“Little one.”