TYHL SS 33 💫

~Side Story 33~

“When my mother died, the old man next door—the one who used to share his bread with me—stole all her belongings. Later, when my father came looking for me, he traded them for food.”

“Hah… that old bastard.”

“I think he knew I was the baron’s illegitimate child. He was probably planning to cash in on me someday. That’s why he only gave me just enough bread to keep me alive…”

In the end, the baron never came back until Rosetta’s mother was already dead.

So the old man must’ve figured he might as well steal what he could.

“Anyway, when I was sold to the mercenary corps, the keepsake box went to the commander too. They took the key I had on me at the same time.”

Rosetta pressed her fingers hard against her solar plexus—the spot where the key used to rest.

“Why do you want that box so badly? What’s even inside it?”

At Leviathan’s question, Rosetta fell silent for a moment.

“It’s nothing special. But I was told it holds my mother’s last words to me. That makes it… my real gift. I wanted to have it.”

She hugged her knees and buried her face, making it hard to read her expression.

“And…”

“And.”

“When life keeps flowing like garbage, you can’t help but wonder.”

“Wonder about what?”

“Why I was even born.”

“……”

“Proof that I’m not empty.”

In the end, what Rosetta wanted was simple.

She needed proof that her mother had loved her.

Absurd, maybe.

The commander had always told her she’d been abandoned because she had no right to be born.

Worthless.

Meaningless.

But Rosetta didn’t want to define herself that way.

At least her mother must have loved her.

Mom always cried when she looked at me. Like she was sorry.

Those tears had made Rosetta feel both sad—and strangely happy.

She believed, with all her heart, that they were her mother’s way of showing love.

But her mother, who had lost the ability to speak, had never once said the words “I love you.”

So Rosetta wanted proof.

“I know it sounds grand, talking about the meaning of life. But I thought… if I saw that box, maybe I’d find some kind of answer.”

The world had always been cruel to her.

It treated her like she didn’t belong, pushing her to the margins every single time.

You’re rejected.
You’re not approved.
A hollow child like you should’ve been disqualified from the start.

“…I see.”

Leviathan murmured softly. Then he suddenly looked up at her.

“But Rosetta.”

“……”

“I’ve never once thought you were empty.”

He leaned toward her, slowly.

“Even without that keepsake box. Even if you never find some grand meaning to life. To me… you’ve always been full.”

Rosetta blinked.

“…What?”

“I mean—what you’re full of is…”

He searched for the words, clearly lost.

“Warm things. Bright things. The kind that shines when you look at it. Like sunlight. Yeah. To me, you’ve always been full of sunlight.”

Sincerity shimmered in his eyes.

Rosetta suddenly remembered her childhood—collecting sunlight in a cracked glass jar. It had been the most beautiful, dazzling thing in the world. She’d wanted to keep it. One piece for her mother, one piece for herself.

But she never could.

And somewhere along the way, she’d become someone closer to darkness than the sun.

Yet this man was telling her she was full of light.

It left her dazed.

“…Damn it…”

Leviathan glanced at her silence and grabbed his forehead.

“What kind of idiotic nonsense is this? I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.”

He was flustered—unlike himself.

His tongue felt longer than usual.

And his face was… a little redder than usual too.

“Anyway. I’m just saying—I fell in love with you because you’re you. No grand reason.”

The duke’s son, usually indifferent to everything, sounded more desperate than ever.

Trying to hold onto her.

It was absurd.

And yet, Rosetta felt like her drifting soul was finally taking root somewhere.

“So I’ll get that keepsake box back for you. No matter what.”

Leviathan swore it firmly.

“I’ll even find that damn meaning of life for you. So choose me.”

His long shadow swallowed her whole as he stepped closer.

“Say it. Say you’ll choose me.”

“…Hey.”

“Rosetta.”

“…No, wait.”

“No. I won’t take no for an answer—”

“Oh, stop it! This isn’t about rejecting you!”

“Huh?”

“You’re way too—!”

She turned her face away.

“Close.”

“…What?”

At some point, she’d been backed all the way to the wall.

“You stripped off all your clothes and then confessed like that—honestly!”

Rosetta squeezed her eyes shut.

Sure, he’d done it to cover the child, but still—

Making such an embarrassing confession while half-naked… the man truly had no shame.

“Move. For now.”

She poked his broad shoulder with her finger. His tense upper-body muscles twitched at the small touch.

She returned to Rubian’s side and pressed a hand to the child’s forehead. Thanks to the painkillers, she looked better than before.

“You know… have you ever taken care of someone like this before? Today was my first time.”

Hands that had always hurt people, threatened them, stained themselves with blood—

She was only just learning they could also wipe away cold sweat.

“Why is that, I wonder…”

Rosetta murmured quietly.

“Is it because of this kid… or because of you?”

“……”

“I want to be a good person too.”

Not someone who hurts others.

But someone who helps them. Saves them.

And maybe—

Someone who can nod confidently at your confession.

The uncertainty in Rosetta’s eyes slowly settled.

She was scared.

Terrified.

Still uneasy about whether this was really right.

But instinct told her it was time to be brave.

She was done collapsing in place and lamenting.

“Leviathan.”

She called him the way she once had, long ago, when he was just a boy.

“Help me.”

Leviathan didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms.

I love you, Rosetta.

That was his answer.

The rain stopped.

The three of them stepped out of the cave.

The moment they took a careful step—

Kuuung!

“……!”

A nearby rock split open with a thunderous sound.

Leviathan instinctively sensed danger and drew his sword. A brutal explosion followed, filling the air with smoke.

Step. Step.

A silhouette emerged through the haze.

Tall. Broad-shouldered.

A man Leviathan had never seen before.

He was hidden beneath a robe, but his sharply honed eyes were intense and unsettling.

A scar beneath one eye made it hard to tell whether he had one tear mole or two.

For a brief moment, the image of a small child with two tear moles flashed through Leviathan’s mind—then vanished.

“What are you?”

“Hand her over.”

“…What?”

“The child.”

“……”

“My master—ha. This is exhausting.”

The man looked like someone who’d clawed his way back from hell.

Unstable. On edge.

Leviathan noticed that the land behind him had been completely devastated.

…He didn’t do all that alone, did he?

No. Impossible.

One man couldn’t—

But more than that—

“Give her to me.”

What is this feeling?

“I’ll take good care of her now.”

Leviathan tightened his grip on Rubian, pulling her closer against his back.

“Go on.”

No.

Weirdly enough—

He didn’t want to.

Looking down, he saw that Rosetta wore the same expression.