Chapter 100

They often say that the happier and more joyful the memory, the longer it lasts. Memories that warm your heart whenever you recall them, making you chuckle with a “those were the days” kind of smile… yeah, those.

Of course, I’m no exception. The only slight difference is that almost all my memories became “those kinds of memories” after meeting the Young Master.

Every single day spent with the Young Master was endlessly joyful. All of them are precious memories.

However, the memory buried deepest in my heart is…

…the one I can’t even bring myself to recall without feeling disgusted—my childhood.

*Whoosh───*

Come to think of it… it rained unusually heavily that day.

The people of the territory were happy because they didn’t have to water the fields when it rained, but not me.

To be precise, no one in the “back alleys” liked the rain.

“…………….”

I don’t remember my age. I didn’t really care.

I didn’t even know that the back alley where I was born and raised was part of Baron Byron’s territory.

The only thing I could remember was the faces of what people called “parents.”

──”You’re just a useless brat who eats up all the food.”

──”I shouldn’t have given birth to you…!!”

The man called “father” often swung liquor bottles at me, and the woman called “mother” spent every day lamenting her life while abusing me in every way possible.

“You shouldn’t have been born. You ruined my life. It’s all your fault.”

At first, it hurt a lot, but over time, I became numb. In fact, I started thinking a little differently.

Instead of trembling and bleeding every day from being beaten…

I secretly picked up broken pieces of liquor bottles and kept track of when my “parents” were home.

Waiting for the right opportunity…

──”Someone came to buy her. This useless brat, at least her face is decent.”

──”How much? How much are they offering?”

──”100 gold.”

100 gold. Thinking about it now, it’s a laughable amount for parents to sell their own child.

In fact, my mother protested at my father’s words.

──”What? We should get at least five times that!”

──”Shut up, you bitch! If you’re so smart, go haggle with them yourself! I’m not dealing with those human trafficking scum…!! They’re the kind of guys who’d sell you out in a heartbeat!”

──”Ugh…”

──”100 gold is enough. I’ll just take it to the gambling den and multiply it! That’s all I need…!!”

Ironically, they were the ones trying to sell me off. From my perspective, it was just laughable.

As always, my father turned to me, trembling in the corner of the room, and grinned hideously.

──”I’m alive thanks to perverts who want virgin brats. What are you doing? Come here… Ugh!?”

And that was the “opportunity” I had been waiting for.

While my father was distracted thinking about the money, I stabbed his neck with the broken bottle.

──”You bitch!!”

At first, it was curses.

──”Ugh!! Gah!!”

Then, groans.

──”Shit! Help me, please!!”

Finally, begging.

That was my father—no, that *human trafficker’s*—last words.

It was the end of the hunt.

The mother had a similar reaction. After dropping a blood-soaked shard of a liquor bottle, she ran away from home with all her might.

And so, I ended up in that back alley.

I never forgot my father’s words.

‘Don’t let them find out you’re a girl.’

I cut my hair short. Wearing rags, I erased any trace of femininity.

In my hand, instead of a liquor bottle shard, I held a rusty kitchen knife I found in a trash can.

And I followed my father’s words.

“Get lost, you bitch.”

“Hee, heeek…!!”

An orphan living alone in the back alley. A prey coveted by anyone in the back alley.

Whether they used me as a slave, sold me, or indulged in their disgusting hobbies, I was a being with no rights.

That’s why there were always many who targeted me, and there were few days when my knife wasn’t stained with blood.

Fortunately, thanks to the experience of stabbing my parents’ throats and my increasingly rough tongue, I somehow survived those hellish days.

But how long did I repeat that gutter life?

Filling my stomach with moldy bread I barely found, covering myself with flea-infested rags, I watched the pouring rain.

“…………….”

Swoooosh───

Let me say it again, no one in the back alley… or rather, among the trash, likes the rain.

The rain prevents begging. If you get soaked and catch a cold, you can’t expect any treatment. Moreover, on rainy days, more soldiers patrol, so if you get caught, you could be expelled.

That’s why rainy days meant an unspoken peace in the back alley. Of course, it was also the best day to erase traces of murder…

Anyway, on rainy days, I didn’t have to be too wary of attacks.

But the reason I disliked rainy days was.

“………Why do I live?”

If every day is hell, it’s painful but you can survive. You can’t dream of what to do tomorrow, but you just have to deal with the attacks or blades in front of you.

But when it rains, it’s different. An unspoken peace comes to the back alley. I’m only allowed to look up at the rainy sky all day.

Then, I inevitably fall into thought.

Why do I have to continue this painful life?

Why should I live a life where I can’t even think about tomorrow, let alone the future?

What should I do later? How long will I stay in this back alley?

Those thoughts kept coming, so I disliked rainy days.

…Of course, now it’s different. Now, I actually like rainy days.

Because.

“Are you bored?”

“……Huh?”

“Do you want to play a board game?”

On a day when the rain poured heavily.

Because I met you.

…Back then, you were young too. A boy around my age, but from a completely different world.

Expensive clothes, a clean face, a speech free of curses, and a servant holding an umbrella for you.

A completely different kind of person from me in the back alley.

That’s why I.

“Get lost, you idiot.”

“Huh……?”

Facing you.

He muttered curses under his breath. Looking back now, it’s something I regret deeply, but at that time, it was the best I could do.

At those thick curses, you blinked in surprise.

The servant who was holding an umbrella over you spoke up.

“Young Master, it’s just a dirty alley kid. There’s no need to bother yourself with…”

“Grandpa Charles, I see your hand reaching for your sword. Even if you’re my guard, don’t even think about drawing it.”

“…Understood.”

The term “Young Master.” And the disdain I always heard.

Why the hell did these bastards suddenly come to me and start this nonsense?

Of all days, it had to be a rainy day when I was pondering the meaninglessness of life. I secretly gripped a dagger hidden in the rags covering my body.

A dagger I had snatched and swung from some thug who had attacked me.

‘I’ll take this guy hostage.’

The thought that, since he’s a Young Master, I could get enough money or food…

Looking back now, it was a laughably stupid idea. Even if I succeeded in taking him hostage, what would I do with it? If a magician or aura user showed up, I’d be dead, hostage or not.

But back then, it was a rainy day that made me think pointless thoughts, and I was too young and dumb.

So, without thinking about the aftermath, I drew the dagger.

“Arrogant bastard.”

“…Huh?”

*Clang!*

The servant, Grandpa Charles, instantly drew his sword and knocked the dagger far away.

A back-alley orphan trying to swing a dagger at the third son of the Byron family. From the perspective of Grandpa Charles, the guard, it wouldn’t have been out of line to cut me down right then and there.

But he only knocked the dagger away… solely because of you, Young Master.

Because you didn’t like seeing blood.

“Thanks for the consideration, Grandpa Charles.”

“That’s the limit. Hide behind me.”

“Ah, about that, I still haven’t gotten an answer.”

“Huh?”

In the blink of an eye, the dagger was gone, and I was truly facing death.

You, the one I had targeted, casually spoke to me.

As if it were no big deal.

“So, wanna play a board game?”

“What the hell kind of nonsense is that? Are you brain-dead or something?”

“You bastard!!!”

That attitude pissed me off even more, and I almost got sliced by Grandpa Charles’s sword for running my mouth.

“So, is that a no? This is really fun! It’s called Kill the King, kinda like chess… oh, you don’t know chess. Anyway, it’s a pretty fun game!”

“…What is this?”

Your unwavering demeanor actually made me take a step back.

You stepped forward, past Grandpa Charles, and grabbed my dirty hand.

Pulling out a board game, you said,

“Honestly, no one really plays board games with me properly. At the mansion or in the village, they either go easy on me or don’t play seriously because I’m a noble.”

“………”

“But you seem different. Not that I’m looking down on you or anything… but people who live in places like this usually hate nobles, right? If there’s someone like that, and we could get along, I thought we could really be board game buddies.”

“What are you talking about……?”

“Sorry, was that too long? Anyway, I want to be friends with you. You’re the first kid my age I’ve seen in this back alley! Let’s play a board game!”

It was an opportunity straight out of a novel.

If I became friends with the third son of a noble family, I could escape this back alley. I could dream of a much better life than the one I had now.

But back then, when I knew nothing about you and was wary of everyone, it was a different story.

“Alright, I’ll answer. Get lost, you damn brat. Talking about board games like it’s nothing.”

“Huh……?”

“You think you’re alive just because of your knight guard, you idiot. Otherwise, you’d have a dagger stuck in your neck, bleeding out like trash.”

Everyone who approached me either wanted to kill me, toy with me, or enslave me.

So, I thought you were just like them. That’s why I resisted and rejected you harshly.

At that point, you gave up and went back to Butler Charles.

“Guess it’s a failure, Grandpa.”

“Young Master, I’ll introduce you to the children of the vassal group. There, you can still…….”

“The third son playing board games with the vassal group’s kids? What would Roderick and Frederick think? They’d think the third son is trying to get close to the vassal group to aim for the succession rights.”

“…………….”

“Even if I try to get closer to my brothers by suggesting board games, they all reject me……I just wish I had at least one board game friend.”

“I’m here, Young Master.”

“Thanks as always, Grandpa Charles. And sorry to you too. From your perspective, it might seem like I’m teasing you……See you later.”

“Don’t bother. You damn idiot.”

And just like that, you left. The ridiculous opportunity I was given vanished.

Of course, back then, I didn’t think I missed an opportunity—I just thought I survived again.

But let me tell you.

That was definitely the worst first meeting.

*

“How about it, not bored today? It’s not raining, so there shouldn’t be any problems playing board games!”

“………….”

And the next day.

You came looking for me, looking like you’d wandered the back alleys countless times.

As soon as I saw you, I grimaced and ran away, and you eventually lost me.

You searched for me, and I ran from you.

That game of tag.

……I had no idea it would last for two whole weeks.