Childhood Friend - Consideration
An out-of-place fire crackled in the small storage room behind the bakery kitchen, a space more accustomed to the chill of flour-dusted air. It seemed Lena was sleeping here now.
The two sat awkwardly across from each other in the cramped space, knees nearly touching, as they shared what had transpired.
“...And that’s how it happened.”
Leo listened calmly to Lena's story.
That’s a lie.
He wasn’t calm at all. He just pressed down his turbulent emotions, afraid that showing any hint of them would only deepen Lena's sorrow. Inside, Leo was crumbling.
Lena, too, seemed to have been suppressing a well of sadness. Her voice remained even, but her eyes drifted to some distant point beyond the confines of the small room.
Lena Einar’s face flashed through his mind. She had worn the same expression when she lost her arm and abandoned her sword.
Lena had clung to the city gate all night. Thankfully, Priestess Ophelia had found her early that morning.
She apologized profusely, saying she never imagined Lena would be chased out that very day.
With Ophelia's help, Lena's frozen body thawed, but returning to the church was out of the question. Not even the priestess could make that happen.
Since then, Lena had been searching for work. Any work. She was determined to save enough money to return to Demos.
But saving was proving impossible.
The cost of living in the capital was exorbitant, and their hometown felt impossibly distant. At this rate, she would likely never make it back to Demos.
In that dry, dusty storage room, the weight of their future pressed down on them.
Going back right away was impossible. Leo had no money either, so they had no choice but to remain in Lutetia for the foreseeable future.
They managed to scrounge up enough to rent a dingy, cramped room. Leo sold his dagger, and Lena took an advance on her wages from the bakery owner.
The room was barely larger than a closet, with mold creeping up the walls and not a sliver of sunlight to be found. The constant sound of a baby's cries pierced through the thin walls.
Lena left for the bakery before the sun even thought about rising.
After seeing her off, Leo wandered aimlessly through Lutetia, his feet eventually leading him down a desolate alleyway.
"Who the hell do you think you are, barging in here?"
Lutetia had no large-scale Family, so he sought out a smaller Family house out of desperation.
The place was a mess.
Drunks lounged around in broad daylight, while couples whispered and giggled amongst themselves. It was utter chaos.
Leo pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the disgruntled shouts, and demanded to see the Family boss.
In the Beggar Siblings scenario, he hadn't even laid eyes on the boss after nearly half a year of living as a thug…
Are these guys even real thugs?
He shoved past a guy who tried to pick a fight, sending him sprawling with a swift kick to the jaw.
- *Thud!*
"What the…? Puahaha! Darson, did you just get floored by a damn kid?"
None of them seemed particularly alarmed. Only the Family boss, who was cowering in the back, seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation.
"Hey! Get him! Get him, now!"
Despite the boss's frantic cries, only half of them bothered to get up. And even those who did moved with a distinct lack of urgency. The rest just continued to laugh.
Leo stepped on the throat of the thug he had just knocked down and relieved him of the dagger tucked into his waistband.
First, I’ll beat them all up, then I'll think.
A burning rage churned in his gut, and he needed to release it, no matter the consequences.
The brawl was over before it even began.
As he fought, the realization dawned on him: these weren't thugs, they were mere hoodlums. The boss was the only one who seemed remotely like a true thug.
The difference between a thug and a hoodlum was vast.
Hoodlums were just ordinary people who had fallen in with the wrong crowd. They folded like cheap suits the moment they hit the ground.
Thugs, on the other hand, had no qualms about ending a life. They were accustomed to the dance of death, always fighting with a desperate edge.
They would throw themselves into every attack, aiming for the eyes, the groin, biting, clawing, twisting, and turning anything they could get their hands on into a weapon.
These hoodlums, barely old enough to shave, were no match for Leo. When he had one by the throat, his blood splattering across the room as he brandished his stolen blade, the rest scattered like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
"Hey, you the boss? Your Family's a joke."
"Uuugh…"
"I've got some questions for you…"
Leo had every intention of making the boss talk, even if it meant resorting to torture. But, to his surprise, the man readily spilled his guts, as if Leo’s questions were the least of his worries.
First and foremost, this wasn't a real Family. Apparently, there were no Families operating within Lutetia itself. The real Families had merely set up small branches in the surrounding cities.
The Families are all scattered?
“Why? How can you even do business like this?”
“You must be from out of town. The paladins in the Holy Kingdom make it impossible for us to gather in large numbers.”
The boss, or rather, the low-ranking thug sent from a real Family, continued to explain.
The Divine Mark. That was the problem.
The Holy Cross Church had its own specialized knights: the paladins.
Paladins, with their holy magic enhancing their physical abilities, were a rare breed across the continent. But within the Holy Cross Church, they were practically everywhere.
“The paladins here treat sweeping through the back alleys like an annual festival. If thugs gather in one place, they get marked and wiped out. That's why we're stuck with these small-fry hoodlums, making them do the dirty work.”
Leo glanced at the cowering hoodlums. They were bad seeds, no doubt, but few seemed capable of murder. Most likely, the worst they had done was shake down a few shopkeepers.
Apparently, that wasn't enough to earn a Divine Mark.
He inquired about the prince and the war, but the thug pleaded ignorance, claiming he knew nothing of such matters, even as Leo twisted his fingers.
Leo clicked his tongue, realizing he was taking his frustrations out on the wrong person.
“I answered everything I know. P-please, spare me.”
“…Fine. But you’re giving me your money.”
It turned out the thug barely had any money on him.
He whimpered, explaining that if he gave up all his money, including the funds meant for the hoodlums, he'd be forced to shut down the operation. And if he did that, his superiors would have him killed.
Knowing the precarious position thugs often found themselves in, Leo felt a pang of sympathy.
Besides, taking all his money wouldn’t do him much good anyway. Lena knew he was broke. If he suddenly showed up with a wad of cash, she would be suspicious.
Leo settled for taking the thug's meager wages (his low rank meant his pay was pathetic) and left the alley.
After ditching his bloodstained clothes and changing into a new set, Leo picked up a new dress for Lena and headed towards the bakery.
Lena was waiting for him outside, her shift seemingly over.
“Le…”
She stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the Holy Cross Church, its distant silhouette stark against the breathtaking hues of the setting sun.
Lena’s face, shrouded in shadow, was a mask of despair.
“...Lena.”
“...Ah, Leo, you’re back. Let’s go…”
“Lena, look! I bought you this with the money I made today.”
“Thank you. It's beautiful.”
“I got new clothes too. What do you think? Do they suit me?”
“Yes, they suit you well.”
“...”
Lena responded to his questions politely, but the usual spark was gone. She no longer chattered excitedly like she used to.
Her silence was a punch to the gut, and Leo impulsively pulled out all the money he had taken from the thug.
“L-Look at this! I made a lot of money today.”
It wasn't a fortune, but it was a significant amount for a single day's work. He knew he shouldn't be showing it off, but he couldn't bear to see the despair etched on Lena's face any longer.
“Where… where did you get all this?”
“I earned it today. You know I'm good at what I do, right? I’ll keep earning, and soon we’ll have enough to get a nice place.”
Lena stared at him for a long moment
“Lena? What’s wrong?”
“…Leo, what’s that in your pocket?”
His thin summer shirt did little to conceal the bulge of the dagger he had taken from the hoodlum.
“Th-this? It’s nothing.”
His clumsy attempt at a lie hung heavy in the air.
Just as Leo began to scramble for another excuse, Lena reached out and took his hand.
“Leo.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Don’t push yourself. I’m okay.”
She squeezed his hand reassuringly.
“It doesn’t matter what you do. I just… I don’t want you to struggle because of me. I’m sorry.”
“…”
“Let’s go home.”
Lena turned and walked towards the setting sun, leaving Leo to follow in her wake, his heart heavy with unspoken words.
Her shadow stretched long and lean, pointing towards the Holy Cross Church.