Chapter 4 : Chapter 4
Chapter 4: And So Ryan Stopped Thinking
The only things left in the room were Cosette and that basin of steaming hot water, a luxury so extravagant that it hardly seemed real to her.
Ryan had closed the door from the outside, shutting out the light and sounds of the corridor.
She stood where she was, staring at the basin. Steam drifted against her grimy face, bringing with it a strange warmth and dampness. Ryan’s final words echoed in her mind—
“Clean yourself up first.”
So that was it…
It really did match those vague, frightening stories she had heard. Wash up first, so it would be more convenient to do “that kind of thing” afterward.
The little flicker of unrealistic hope in her heart went out completely, replaced by numbness.
She lowered her eyes and looked at her blackened little hands, the dirt packed deep beneath her nails. Then she looked at the snow-white, soft towel draped over the edge of the basin, and at the small piece of soapberry wrapped in oiled paper beside it, giving off a faint fresh fragrance.
She knew what that was.
It was expensive. Only respectable households could afford something like that.
Forget it, she told herself silently, letting out a faint sigh so weak it was almost inaudible.
At least… it was hot water.
That was far better than sneaking off to the freezing river near the city to wipe herself down in secret.
At least, this piece of soapberry smelled clean.
She began awkwardly, cautiously, to remove that tattered “sack” that had almost stuck to her skin. As the cloth brushed against the red marks on her arms where the wooden stick had poked her earlier, a sharp sting ran through her. She pressed her lips together and made no sound.
Only when she was fully exposed to the air did her bony body shiver slightly from the cold. Then she rose onto her toes and carefully stretched one foot into the hot water.
Too hot!
She flinched, then forced herself to lower her foot in slowly, and then the other.
The warm water wrapped around her icy feet and calves, and the comfort of it nearly made her sigh aloud.
She crouched down and scooped up the hot water with her hands, carefully splashing it over her face and neck. Black grime ran down with the water, gathering into a murky ring along the edge of the basin.
She picked up the soapberry and rubbed it in her palm, imitating the vague scenes she had seen in memory, until it produced a thin little bit of foam. Then she began carefully washing every inch of her skin.
The hot water carried away the dirt, and along with it the filth that had served as her camouflage for so long. Beneath it emerged her original complexion—a pale, undernourished whiteness, though the texture of her skin was unexpectedly delicate.
She washed slowly and earnestly, as though carrying out some kind of ritual, or as though she wanted to strip away that filthy outer shell completely.
The only sounds in the room were the faint splashing of water and her own restrained breathing.
Outside the door, Ryan leaned against the cool door panel. As he listened to the soft, intermittent sounds of water moving inside, the indifferent front he had barely managed to maintain in front of Cosette collapsed completely.
He raised a hand and smacked it heavily against his own forehead with a sharp smack.
“Oh, good heavens…” he wailed soundlessly, his face scrunched into a miserable knot. “What on earth am I even doing?!”
He had brought a little girl back to his room and told her to take a bath!
No matter how he looked at it, this development was completely wrong!
It felt like he had somehow stumbled into one of those bizarre late-night melodramas about rescuing a fallen girl!
Heaven was his witness—in his previous life, he had been an innocent nerd who had never even properly held a girl’s hand. Just because he had transmigrated into a villain did not mean he needed to start practicing the villain’s “professional responsibilities” immediately!
Which screw in his brain had come loose back then? How had “Come with me” slipped out of his mouth so naturally?
And now here they were. He had brought her back, the hot water had been sent up, and what now?!
Irritated, he raked a hand through his hair.
Send her away?
Send her where?
The original “Ryan Velt” had no meaningful connections at all in White Bell City. Even if he did, they were probably the kind of so-called friends who were waiting to laugh at him or hoping he would fall flat on his face. Who would help him settle some mysterious little street orphan?
And besides…
If she really was the future “Witch of Envy,” Cosette, then if he casually tossed her back out now, who knew what kind of butterfly effect it might set off?
But keep her by his side?
How?
Under what identity?
He was about to enroll in the academy. Was he supposed to bring a little girl along to school? Would the academy dormitories even allow that?
His mind was a tangled mess. The more he thought about it, the darker the future seemed. Just as he was on the verge of pulling out a few strands of his own hair, a tiny voice drifted through the door panel, as soft and timid as a mosquito’s hum.
“I… I’m done washing.”
Ryan snapped back to himself at once and straightened up.
He took a deep breath and did his best to suppress the overly rich expression on his face, forcing it back into the blank, emotionless look that belonged to “Ryan Velt.”
He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
Inside the room, the steam had not yet fully dispersed, and the faint clean scent of soapberry still lingered in the air. The basin of water had already turned cloudy and had been set aside.
And in the middle of the room stood that small, helpless figure.
Ryan’s gaze landed first on the clothes.
She was wearing one of his old shirts. It was made of cotton, once a clean pale gray, though after many washes it had faded somewhat. Now, on the girl, it was so oversized that it looked more like a robe. The hem drooped to the middle of her slender calves, and the loose sleeves had been rolled several times before her wrists could barely be seen.
Her wet flaxen hair had been clumsily tied behind her head with some strip of cloth she had found from who knew where, and water was still dripping from it, soaking a patch of fabric over her shoulders.
But none of that was the reason Ryan fell speechless.
His eyes fixed on her face.
With the dust and grime washed away, that small face was fully revealed in the light.
Her skin was a porcelain-like pale, the pallor of someone who had not seen sunlight in far too long. Beneath it, he could even make out the faint bluish trace of tiny veins.
Because of the hot water, there was a very slight flush on her cheeks, the palest hint of healthy color.
The contours of her features were unbelievably delicate.
Her brows curved in long, gentle lines. Her eyelashes were thick and long, still damp with lingering moisture, hanging wetly downward. Her nose was small and straight, and her lips were a soft pale pink, lightly pressed together from nervousness.
But the feature that was impossible to look away from was her eyes.
Now that the dusty tears had been washed away, those hazel eyes stood out all the more vividly against her pale face, clear and bright, like two warm pieces of amber submerged in spring water.
At that moment, those beautiful eyes were brimming with unease.
She was looking up at him just like that, with wet hair clinging to her cheeks, her thin little body wrapped in an oversized ill-fitting old shirt. She ought to have looked bedraggled and fragile, yet because of that astonishing beauty, she instead seemed to radiate a kind of dazzling, breakable brilliance.
Ryan’s mind went blank with a buzz.
Earlier, when she had been filthy like a little stray cat, he had guessed that once she washed up, she probably would not look bad.
But he had never imagined… that it would be this level of beautiful.
This was not merely “not bad.”
She looked like some elf who had stepped out of a fairy-tale picture book, or an absurdly expensive porcelain doll that had suddenly come to life.
Did a face like this actually exist?
For a brief instant, the memory of that proud and gorgeous queen from the future overlapped violently with the soaked little doll standing before him now, then separated again just as quickly. The impact was so strong that Ryan forgot to breathe, and forgot every problem he had been agonizing over outside the door.
He simply stood frozen in the doorway, staring at Cosette.
Under his fixed gaze, Cosette grew even more uneasy. She instinctively drew her toes back a little and twisted the overly long hem of the shirt tightly in her fingers.
In those hazel eyes, panic was on the verge of overflowing.