13) Chapter 3. That's not it, actually...! (5)
But even so, I couldn’t just stay completely silent.
At the very least, it wasn’t as if she was ignoring me. The fact that we were talking at all meant there was an opportunity.
No, more than that.
“You can’t eat candy because it’s bad for your health…?”
I asked carefully.
Nod, nod.
Chae‑yi nodded her head.
They won’t even give a kid a single piece of candy? Even the orphanage always gave us snacks. Not just the ones bought with the budget or donated—sometimes the teachers even bought us snacks with their own salaries. For children, eating well is important no matter what.
Some overprotective parents might forbid sweets because they’re unhealthy, but…
Suddenly, I remembered Cheong Hwi‑rin, who had shown up when we went out for ice cream.
That lady who got out of the car glaring, then brightened instantly when she recognized Soi.
“Your mom doesn’t let you eat it at home?”
“……”
At my question, Chae‑yi lowered her head, lifted her eyes to glance at me, then quickly looked back at the ground.
Eyes lifted like that can often be mistaken for glaring, but her gaze was so pure that I couldn’t possibly feel hurt or angry.
“Do you… go to cram school and stuff? Study late into the night?”
“……”
After hesitating, she weakly shook her head.
That was a lie.
Back at the orphanage, she had never lied to me. We had no reason to lie to each other anyway. And what would a five‑year‑old even lie about?
But now she was hesitating so obviously before shaking her head.
Children can be unbelievably cruel at times, but that doesn’t mean they lack morality.
If anything, because they don’t know better, they feel strong guilt about doing things they shouldn’t. They can’t even tell small lies properly, and they feel guilty over the smallest things.
Maybe that’s what she was feeling now. Telling someone else about what her mother does.
“Your mom is…”
There were so many things I wanted to say. Blood rushed to my head, and I wanted to ask her everything.
But I held it back.
There was no reason for Chae‑yi to bear the anger I felt. She hadn’t done anything wrong—why should she be stressed?
Cheong Hwi‑rin.
After hearing about her, I looked her up on my phone later.
She was a few years older than Auntie Yujin. Pretty, but definitely looking a bit older than eternally youthful Auntie Yujin.
Strong and beautiful in battle, but with clear limits—was that how they described her?
Dividing heroes into ranks and comparing who’s stronger is considered extremely rude in this society. Like saying one firefighter is A‑rank because he saved two more people than another who’s B‑rank.
But even so, you can’t completely stop people from making unofficial rankings.
In those unofficial rankings, “Meteor” was S‑rank, and “Cheong Hwi‑rin” was usually compared to A‑rank. Even in more detailed breakdowns, she was half a tier to a full tier below Auntie Yujin.
Both were famous for being beautiful, and both were famous for being kind, so people compared them endlessly.
“……”
Fidget.
Chae‑yi was nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
It was a habit she had even as a child.
But back then, she didn’t do it so timidly. She used to squirm shyly whenever the kids or teachers praised her.
What… what can I even do now?
When we were little, there was so much I could do.
I could hug her when she was scared, hold her hand and walk around the orphanage, or slip in beside her to get praised together when the other kids complimented me.
Things I can’t do now.
My chest felt tight.
I’ve grown so much since then. Tons of kids at school know me, and so many say they like me.
But now, I can do far less for Chae‑yi than I could back then.
I used to act all proud and confident, even telling her we should go to the same school, that even if we lived apart we could still attend the same school. I even said I’d visit her.
But I hesitated too long. Instead of me going to her, she had to come find me.
And in the end, I couldn’t do anything for her.
The kid who used to puff up her nose and say “It can’t be helped!” had become someone who truly couldn’t do anything.
Tap.
“Huh?”
But strangely enough…
Maybe because I’ve spent my whole second life among kids, I’ve become impulsive.
Before I knew it, I grabbed her hand.
Then I pulled her toward me and said,
“Come here.”
“Huh?”
Holding her hand, I dragged her toward Soi.
I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do.
Even if Cheong Hwi‑rin didn’t get angry in front of us, wouldn’t she get angry at home?
And this wasn’t even my ability—it was thanks to Soi. Because her parents were Auntie Yujin and Uncle Do‑hyun.
But still.
Still.
“Huhhh?”
Soi, who had been hiding behind a utility pole, jumped in surprise when I approached with Chae‑yi.
“Are you done talking?”
“No.”
At my answer, Chae‑yi widened her eyes at me. Yes. This was much better than her shrinking away.
“Chae‑yi has so much to say, so she wants to come over to our house.”
“Huh?”
She made the same sound again, as if she’d forgotten how to speak.
“Really!?”
Soi’s eyes sparkled.
Of course she loved having friends over. Her house was huge, so even several kids wouldn’t make it feel cramped, and she just loved playing with friends.
She’d been so lonely in that big house that she’d even wished for a younger sibling.
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
Soi grabbed her other hand and tugged eagerly.
“Ah…”
Maybe because she’d already learned from the ice cream shop incident that once caught, there was no escape, she followed us with a half‑resigned expression.
Honestly, I didn’t know what to do after this.
I had a strong suspicion she wasn’t treated well at home. But I was just a kid—would adults even listen to me?
And even if I called the police, the person involved was a famous hero, Cheong Hwi‑rin.
So at the very least…
I wanted her to have a good time. To make memories she could look back on someday.
And maybe, just maybe…
If Soi’s parents noticed something strange about her, they might try to help.
…Though the fact that I had to rely on Soi for that made me feel pathetic.
*
Naturally, Auntie Yujin and Uncle Do‑hyun welcomed her. They had never once failed to welcome a friend Soi brought home.
“Oh, really? You’re Hero Cheong Hwi‑rin’s daughter!”
Judging by the honorific, they didn’t seem particularly close.
And maybe because Chae‑yi was a child, or because they simply had no real connection, Auntie Yujin smiled brightly as she spoke.
“Have fun. Oh, is there anything you want to eat? Should we order something?”
“Yeah, Chae‑yi! Do you want anything?”
“Uh.”
Suddenly questioned, she looked around nervously, cheeks reddening.
Then she lowered her head deeply and said,
“Th‑then… ice cream…”
Soi and I exchanged glances.
She must’ve really liked the ice cream from last time.
“Make sure to tell your parents.”
“Yeah! Tell them you’re at my house!”
Soi probably said it without any intention behind it.
But at those words, Chae‑yi’s eyes widened.
Right?
Her mom told her to “get along with them.”
So even if she skipped school. Even if she ate something fattening.
Inside this house, she’d have no choice but to allow it.
Because Cheong Hwi‑rin cared about Meteor’s opinion.
So we played. And we ate.
We bought ice cream—bigger cups than last time.
Her face melted more than the ice cream did.
Maybe next time I should tempt her with ice cream instead of candy.
That’s how happy she looked.
*
“Thank you so much for looking after Chae‑yi.”
“No, she’s such a sweet and polite child. I hope she visits often.”
“Oh my, really?”
Cheong Hwi‑rin looked delighted.
Her gaze toward Chae‑yi was different from last time.
Last time, she looked like she’d found something useful. This time, she genuinely looked surprised.
Maybe that was a good thing? No, I couldn’t say it was truly good…
But at least she wouldn’t be mistreated for a while.
“Come on, say goodbye before we go.”
At her words, Chae‑yi turned toward us.
She walked up to me and Soi and said,
“…I… I had fun.”
For some reason, she said it to me.
Even though this was Soi’s house, and it was really thanks to her and her parents.
“Yeah. Come again.”
“Come again!”
At my words, Soi beamed and nodded.
Chae‑yi lowered her head slightly at that.
There was a faint smile on her face.
“Yes. Because you’re close friends. Right?”
At Cheong Hwi‑rin’s smiling voice, that smile vanished.
“……”
She only nodded.
On the way back, Cheong Hwi‑rin chatted cheerfully as she got into the car. Chae‑yi sat beside her.
Just before the door closed, she looked at me—but it shut before I could read her expression.
And the next day.
She didn’t come to school.
I didn’t even need to go to her classroom to ask.
“You’re saying Chae‑yi didn’t come to school?”
Because right in front of that class, I ran into Cheong Hwi‑rin demanding answers from the teacher.