The boy ended up living with Irumi, but at first, he was extremely volatile. He repeatedly tried to escape and hurled insults at Irumi. Recently, however, his injuries had fully healed, he'd regained his strength, and his emotions seemed to have settled somewhat.
Still, he didn't trust Irumi at all. If Irumi got too close, the boy would cloak himself in black flames to intimidate him.
That intimidation meant he feared Irumi—and humans in general. He'd never admit it, but that's what it was.
So Irumi made an effort to keep an appropriate distance while living together. As long as the boy ate properly and avoided dangerous actions, he was free to do as he pleased. Irumi understood how difficult boys this age could be and knew building trust would take time.
(The real problem is living expenses…)
Recently, Irumi had finally secured a steady job. He worked at a cheap tavern, doing menial tasks like cleaning, prepping food, carrying wine barrels, washing piles of dishes, and even polishing the owner's shoes or helping him change—every odd job imaginable, from morning to night, for a mere 30 lepi.
The tavern owner, Balbro, was a hot-tempered giant of a man who beat Irumi daily. Still, with a child to care for, the certainty of daily pay was invaluable.
But it wasn't enough. Occasionally, a market vendor selling trinkets would give him small side jobs. So, after returning home at night, Irumi worked on these tasks and delivered them to the market the next day.
Working from dawn to dusk, even with side jobs, was barely enough to support two people. This rundown shack could collapse in a storm, and the boy deserved a safer, more decent life. Winter was approaching, and the shack was drafty and freezing.
Yesterday, the boy had come down with a high fever, likely because of a sudden cold snap at night. The temperature had been dropping gradually, and Irumi had been planning to prepare for winter when the weather abruptly plummeted. Unlike Japan, where seasons shift gradually, Helzheim's temperatures seemed to drop drastically overnight.
"Let's sleep under the same blanket—it's cold," Irumi had suggested (though calling the tattered rag a blanket was generous). The boy coldly refused, saying it was dirty. With no choice, Irumi gave him his own blanket, but by morning, the boy had caught a cold. Half-demons, it seemed, were as susceptible to colds as humans.
Irumi rushed to the market to buy medicine, nutritious food, and an extra secondhand blanket. Fortunately, it was just a cold, and by evening, the boy was fine. But Irumi had to take half the day off work, which sent Balbro into a rage. He beat Irumi even more viciously than usual and withheld half a day's pay.
Irumi was just grateful he wasn't fired. The boy's cold was partly his fault for delaying winter preparations due to lack of funds.
Still, Balbro's violence had been escalating lately. Irumi knew well that violence always worsened over time. Being around Balbro stirred up bad memories Irumi had buried from childhood. It felt like he was being used as a stress outlet, and he was searching for a less brutal job, even if just slightly better, before things got worse.
(But… there's really nothing out there.)
"How much for that cute ass of yours? We'll have fun with you till you pass out."
"3,000—no, 4,000 lepi."
The words from those men in town flashed through his mind. That kind of money, earned regularly, would make life so much better. He could rent a proper house.
Irumi could endure his own hunger and exhaustion. He'd never considered selling himself for that reason. But now, with a child he absolutely couldn't let starve, the lack of money pushed him toward a line he'd never imagined crossing, filling him with unbearable anxiety.
If enduring it for a short time could earn money efficiently…
(No, no, that's out of the question. Anything but that.)
Just then, Irumi noticed the boy, eating lunch, had paused his spoon and was staring at him. Though still skeletal, his complexion seemed slightly better.
(Man, he's really a beautiful boy. It's exciting to think about his future.)
"What's up? Is it good?"
Irumi couldn't help but ask. The boy, startled, looked away, clicked his tongue, glared, and resumed eating.
Back when his brothers were young, they'd say, "Irumi-nii's cooking is the best in the world," which was adorable. But during their rebellious phases, they complained it was bad or too bland compared to their mother's cooking. Later, in their indifferent phase, they'd eat while glued to their phones, barely reacting. So Irumi wasn't confident in his cooking.
Yet, despite his sharp tongue, the boy never complained about the taste and always ate every bite.
(It's nice when he eats everything.)
Having been saddened for years by his brothers leaving food uneaten, Irumi couldn't help but smile, watching the boy eat every grain of mijal.
(Manners… that's nice.)
The first time, the boy had eaten ravenously, likely out of starvation, but normally, his manners were refined. Someone must have taught him proper table etiquette, suggesting he came from a respectable household.
That meant he likely had a guardian. Being half-demon meant one parent was human, and he spoke their language and knew the manners needed to live in human society, despite his hatred for them.
If he'd run away from home after something bad happened and ended up lost and starving, his emaciated state made sense. His family must be searching for him, worried.
Irumi himself had once searched all night for his brother during his rebellious phase when he ran away. If the boy had been mistreated or abused as a half-demon and fled, Irumi couldn't return him. But if it was just a runaway situation, he had to find his guardian—no question. Imagining the reverse made his chest ache.
He couldn't ask the townspeople, though—they'd tried to kill the boy without hesitation. It was too dangerous. The boy himself would have to open up.
(Guess we need to get a bit closer first…)
Irumi gave a wry smile, lost in thought, when the boy, unusually, spoke.
"Get robbed or something?"
"…?"
"Your face looks even worse."
Irumi didn't understand at first, but touching the cheek the boy pointed at, he realized. The spot where Balbro had hit him yesterday was swollen. He usually shielded his face and head, but yesterday's blow was unexpected and hit him hard. He'd cooled it with cold water, and by morning, the swelling had gone down, leaving a bruise. Covered in soot, he thought it wouldn't stand out, so he was surprised and flustered that the boy noticed.
"Yesterday at work, I zoned out and crashed into a wall. Thanks for worrying."
"Worrying? It's a complaint. Don't sit in front of me with that filthy face in the morning."
"Sorry, sorry."
Even as he apologized, Irumi didn't move from his seat. He was inexplicably thrilled that the boy had spoken to him properly for the first time.