SWNOVELXO Chapter 5
Chapter 5: The Terrible Eight Years Old.
Winter is cold.
‘…, cold and painful.’
Winter is painful.
For the girl, the season of winter brings more desperate and sorrowful days than any other time of the year.
As her swollen skin meets the harsh biting winds, the girl, with no place to escape the season, finds herself constantly fidgeting with the old board that offers no protection against the wind.
Crouching against the cold stone wall, she feels a sense of relief in the fact that at least her back is not exposed to the wind.
Last year’s winter was like that.
The winter of the year before was like that too.
And probably all the winters before that passed in the same cold and painful manner.
However.
This winter would be a little different.
‘Warm.’
There is warmth in the thick old clothes that the gray girl cannot feel through her tattered rags.
It was something casually tossed aside by an unnamed boy, who had merely exchanged glances with her.
Unlike the kids who come to torment her every day, he returned after half a year, with indifferent eyes, and tossed it to her.
‘…, strange person.’
He does not even regard her as a person.
And because he does not see her as a person, he does not hate her.
He, who is a child raised under parents that shy away from the gray girl, does not shy away from approaching her.
“This, injury….”
Thus, with her awkward pronunciation, she mumbles as she tightly wraps herself in the old cardigan, now covered in fuzz.
It’s warm.
She can feel the warmth.
The warmth that was absorbed by the wardrobe inside the house still lingers.
To enjoy it a little more, she buries her face in the rough cardigan, lowering her head.
‘…, will he come again?’
Will that unnamed boy come to this alley again?
To avoid the torment of the other kids, she often had to change her living place, but if she keeps doing that, it feels like that boy may not come.
Thinking of his indifferent eyes, she is sure that would be the case.
It seems he could disappear forever if he stopped caring about her.
So the girl protects this alley where they first met.
Every year, and every season, she had fled her place, but this winter, she decides to stand her ground.
‘Warm….’
This winter, she has an old garment full of fuzz.
********
Two years have passed.
A little more than that, the snow of the New Year has melted, and spring has come, bringing flowers.
As if proving it were a world in a story, the peaceful days passed without any special incidents.
In other words.
After that much time has passed, I turned eight years old, still a small and fragile child living in this world.
And during all that long time, it’s only natural that I have not taken a single step toward the alley where the gray girl surely is.
I wished to become the witch’s guardian, but it’s fair to say the story did not desire the emergence of a new role.
That was because of my mother’s firm opposition and my father’s awkward smiles.
Of course, both of their responses were more out of concern for me than hatred toward the witch.
I knew.
The folklore of the gray girl is a widely disseminated story that children in this world can read.
Naturally, I, too, have memories of reading that fairy tale cradled in my mother’s arms, and I remember the words she admonished me with then.
“Stay away from anyone with gray hair, my son. Understand?”
It was a promise made with our pinkies linked, filled with her worries.
In this world, there is a law of reaction that befalls children who break promises with their parents.
It was bound to happen, not just an excuse of a fictional setting.
So I often find myself thinking.
I don’t like this appearance of being just a little child still, to be honest, quite a bit.
Even though I stepped into the development of the story and grasped the role of the witch’s watcher.
The more I realize that I haven’t even once stepped into that role, the more I ponder those thoughts.
In such times, I find myself wondering what the story’s world is if I can’t turn the pages of time at all.
Look, just look.
The lengthy two years that have passed can only allow me, as an extra, to perform my duties as a child.
Eating, sleeping, and the infinite repetition of the two.
That’s not to say that trying to persuade my parents about the gray girl, as pitiable as she may be, holds any meaning.
Even if I try to talk about the gray story with my own mouth, their perception will not change.
It’s possible they might even try to constrain my actions more as I grow up.
Just remembering mother’s stern reprimands when I threw old clothes to the girl in the alley makes it seem like a plausible prediction.
Therefore, this is.
My sentiment about living in this world until the age of eight.
I don’t think the perception of gray, which has lasted for ages, could simply change because of a son’s childish grievances.
If anyone believes that a fixed narrative can be easily changed by an extra little child, that would expose their ignorance instead.
In that sense.
I decided to be a thoroughly good son for the duration of these two years.
Listening well to my mother, greeting my father when he comes home.
Without causing any incidents a child would make, even if it meant appearing a bit precocious, helping out around the house.
Living peacefully while being fully devoted to the role assigned by the story.
“Son!”
“… Yes, mom.”
“Come here, can you help with this?”
“Okay, I’ll go.”
Until my mother thought of me as a naturally grown-up son, I quite naturally acted that way.
This is how it should be.
I can regain my role like this.
I.
I won’t be dragged around by the story.
In truth, this world is quite peaceful.
An eight-year-old child can go to the grocery store on an errand for their mother without fear of being kidnapped, and even if they get lost in the square, there’s a Missing Child Center within 100 meters, leading to less worry.
It’s said that such aspects are well-placed standards, so it wouldn’t be callous to deem it a medieval landscape.
While it’s not the same all over the world or in every region, at least in the capital of the empire, which serves as the beginning backdrop, it certainly is.
Of course, as time passes and the development slowly progresses, there might be some danger creeping in, but for the children of the empire, it is indeed a safer world than even the earth.
Except, that is, for the gray girl.
“Son, don’t cross the street when the carriage is passing.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t be rude to the grocery store uncle.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Don’t just head off on your own to wherever you want to go, you know? If you want to go somewhere, you should go with your mom. Understand!”
“Yeah, it’s a promise.”
I linked my pinky with my mother and accepted a small basket, some money, and a note with the shopping list scribbled on it.
“I’m sorry for making you work since I’m busy, son.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been there with you many times, so I’ll find my way well.”
“Puhuhuh… right. Our son has grown!”
Saying this, my mother messily ruffles my hair.
Even though my hair gets tousled this way and that, I don’t feel particularly annoyed.
Because I’m a good child now.
And thus, I became completely alone for the first time since being born into this world.
In the midst of a bustling street bustling with people and carriages passing by rapidly.
For a moment, I absorb that scene and step forward.
Following the well-known path I had walked many times alongside my mother, I walk along happily—tap-tap, like a child.
The alley leading to the market.
“….”
Like a good child.
I head straight to the grocery store, paying no heed to distractions.
Like a child my age.
I nod my head in greeting to familiar faces I pass by, and when I hear praises, I nod again.
Perhaps it was around 10 minutes later.
I finally pushed open the large wooden door of the grocery store I had arrived at.
“Welcome… huh? Oh ho, isn’t this Rain’s boy! What brings you here all alone?”
“…, hello. My mom is busy, so I came on an errand, Uncle.”
The bear-like uncle, who was lazily handling customers at the counter, bursts out laughing upon seeing me walk in alone.
“Hahaha! Has my boy grown big enough to run errands alone! That’s what makes a man!”
“….”
I feel I’m still too young to be called a man, but let’s leave it at that.
After all, I’m a good child now, so I bow my head in response to the uncle’s words.
“Right, right. Since it’s an errand, tell me what you’re here to buy. I’ll give you a little discount since you came alone!”
“Um, well…. Right here.”
I shuffle through the errand list I received from my mom and the money, handing it to uncle, who smiles broadly as he reads the note.
“Hmm, good. Nothing different from usual. It seems Rain’s cooking skills can’t quite manage a variety of dishes!”
“Seems so. Mother is still young, after all.”
“Khaha! That’s true! Just wait a moment; I’ll prepare it for you!”
The uncle says this and places an unusually large amount of change on the counter before heading into the back storage.
“….”
That uncle.
I’ve thought this before, but he’s vibrantly enthusiastic to an unnecessary degree.
Just being around him feels like my energy gets lifted.
Of course, one can also feel he is indeed a very good person for being so jovial and lively.
Yet such a good person is perhaps just an extra in this world.
As I reflect on this and scan the interior of the grocery store, vegetables and meats soon appear in front of me.
“Here you go! Want me to help you put it in the basket?”
“Oh, no. I can do that myself.”
I say this and begin to put the items in the basket one by one.
Eventually, after placing everything in the basket with my small hands, I look up to bid farewell, and the uncle, with a broad smile, hands me something.
“A gift, Ain! You little cutie!”
“Uh, ah….”
A handful of sweet candy.
The uncle happily hands me a quantity of candy that would surely overflow in both hands, candy a child would definitely enjoy.
Mom would probably disapprove, saying that too much candy would ruin my teeth.
Knowing this, the uncle ruffles my hair vigorously and says,
“Be sure to keep it a secret from your mom, and hide it well!”
“…, yes. Thank you, uncle.”
His words and behavior make me chuckle softly.
How exactly am I supposed to hide all this?
What a wonderfully warm and kind person he is.
I pour the candies into the basket and leave the grocery store.
Once outside, where the relatively quiet grocery store is replaced by the bustling market scene, I pause.
“….”
Thanks to the uncle quickly gathering the vegetables and meats, I have plenty of time left now.
I had worried about leaving too late and raising my mother’s suspicion, but with this, I could probably veer a little off and still arrive home as usual.
So I temporarily set aside my role as the good child.
Thinking this, I turn my feet in the direction opposite the house.
Away from the market.
Taking steps down a street moving away from the market, heading straight along the increasingly quieter lane.
Having stepped outside for the first time alone, and with no inventions like cell phones or navigation existing.
Not even carrying a map, it is indeed a place where I could understandably hesitate and come to a stop.
Walking in a direction opposite to that of the crowd in an unfamiliar area can be a bit intimidating.
However.
My memories are fresh and vividly clear.
Even if my body hesitates, my memory from two years ago is certain and distinct, which pushes away the childish hesitation and takes its place.
This is it.
I can go this way.
As I think this and proceed, I ultimately find myself encountering a familiarity other than the market.
It’s an alley I feel familiar with, despite having only visited a couple of times.
The Kathe Square comes into view, hidden in the shade, with a large clock tower not visible.
“….”
And amidst what should be a lonely alley, a cacophony of voices is heard.
I quietly step into the shadows of the alley, where the cheerful sounds of the children echo through the air.
“… This fucking beggar!”
“Eew, look at that smelly thing…. Why is it hugging that furball?”
“Puhuh… look at that! It’s bleeding from being hit by stones, you know? Oh, it’s not gray blood!”
As those voices traverse the alley back and forth, I arrive at the scene where only sounds had been heard.
“….”
Has she grown a little?
Honestly, I can’t tell.
The gray girl, bleeding and surrounded by children,
Surely two years have passed for her as they have for me, yet she stands there, her frail body looking little changed from when I first saw her.
On an even more tattered and moldy board than two years ago, now torn in patches, she barely covers her body.
“…, ah.”
Cradling the worn clothing, filled with fuzz, that I had carelessly tossed to her that winter.
The gray girl is being hit by stones and bleeding.
So.
I think to myself, how can you stand there so passively while being treated like this?
What reason is there for you to cling to that heap of fuzz as if it were precious?
With that thought, I dropped my basket down and stomped forward.
“Uh, uh…? Wh-what’s going on!”
In a fight among children, it ultimately boils down to dominant aggression.
Simply catch the guy who asks, “What’s going on,” and knock him down with a terrifying expression on my face.
“Ugh! It hurts, it hurts…! Why, why are you hitting me all of a sudden…!! Aaaah!”
“….”
If there’s a reason, it would be due to a failure to receive proper upbringing.
It might be proper upbringing in this world, but it surely wasn’t for me.
“Aaah…!! Stop, stop hitting me…! Ugh! Gasp, ahhh….”
Whether there are three or four of them, I act like a crazed person, tackling one and hitting him with all my might.
Soon enough, the other kids are frightened and run away, and the one I hit lets go and bolts as well.
After all, no matter how much they laugh at and bully others, they are just kids.
I cast a furtive glance at the fleeing figures of the children and pick up the basket I’d set a little distance away.
And then.
“Ah….”
I turn my head towards the gray girl, who barely makes a small sound.
Her eyes, clouded and gray, widened in surprise, staring directly at me.
“….”
“….”
I only intended to casually visit and give the handful of candy I received from the uncle before leaving.
Ironically, having deviated from the role I had anticipated, I end up locking eyes with the gray girl in that silence.
“….”
“….”
Have we been looking at each other for a minute?
Taking a deep sigh, I take out all the candies I had poured into my basket and approach her.
I have no clue what she’s thinking with those dull eyes.
I place the candies down in front of her on the board she has fallen onto.
“…, eat.”
“….”
I don’t know if it will alleviate her hunger, but at least it will provide some minimal calories.
I mumble briefly and rise again, taking back the basket.
A heavy silence, feeling uncomfortable and awkward, flows between us, but I disregard it and head back in the direction I came.
After all, a girl hurt by others would have no desire to speak to anyone, and I now have no time.
So I just have to return home.
“…, you’re not going, are you…?”
“….”
As I turn my back, a wavering voice calls out to me.
A speech pattern that’s muddled, making it difficult to understand properly.
Words so faint and lacking emotion.
Perhaps she simply blurted out anything.
But I know.
Having read the story, I understand what it means for her to speak first.
And so, I feel fear.
The slightly flickering emotion, living on as gray embers, reveals a pendulum has begun to tilt.
The storm of the narrative may begin to pull me toward its center.
Such thoughts whisper to me suddenly.
Decide.
Choose the direction of the crossroad.
As one who assigned myself roles, fulfill that responsibility.
That is why.
“…, I’ll come again next time.”
In the end, I make a cowardly choice.
Spouting a vague and irresponsible answer, I turn away.