I Was Born The Unloved Twin - 135 Don't-

“Oh dear no! Rosalia, do not jump out the window young lady! Oh Gabbey was right…” mother holds me back from throwing myself out the still-moving vehicle.

Thus she cannot blame me for being so rude. Blehg.

I no longer have shame. Not when it comes to carriages and this wretched curse called motion sickness. There is not much to spit up, as I tend to starve myself ahead of time on trips involving moving vehicles. But cough and spit up I do. It cannot be helped. I am a small child. Everything hurts so intensely.

Even my tummy aches hurt more! Kids are just so damn sensitive!

The story of my life in the tutorial stage of this sad game is still not going any faster, only weirder. I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing.

It is very interesting to note though since as an adult I swore time goes by too quickly. One deadline flowing into another, a season come and past even if a work day feels impossibly long.

Being a kid, however, makes everything feels like forever!

Hey, how long have I been narrating to myself? Am I really only still a three year old? Am I really stuck in this carriage still? Blurp. Yes. Yes I am.

“Why couldn’t I go with the horses? Or the balloon!” I bemoan.

“Rosa icky! Heehee.” my sister laughs at my despair. How kind and generous of her.

Next time she gets sick I shall return the favor. I shall sit there, eating grapes and cheese, clapping like the villainess I am for her to suffer more. More! More suffering! Suffer for my amusement!

Blergs. *hic*

Eventually, though it feels like an eternity, the carriage does pull up to a rise up a slope and an eventual turn to slow and stop after passing another gate. Finally arriving not just to the hot spring town, our resort, but to our actual specific temporary place of residence. Set up and prepared ahead of time for our scheduled arrival.

Curse father’s stupid schedules, let me out of this thing.

“Paaaaaaaaapaaaaaaaaaa!!!” my sister cries, apparently spying said parent from out the window.

“Lilyanne no! No jumping through. Oh my, where do you two learn such bad habits?!” mother’s other arm reaches out before my sister goes charging out herself.

To that, my sister pouts and puffs like a balloon, squinting at mother while being held back by the back of her dress collar. I equally give mother a weak and dying look, unable to do a thing more.

Hello pot? Have you met kettle?

I must be wary to prevent these bad habits from truly gripping me. The strangest and worst genetics of this body already so prominent. It must all be grampa’s fault somehow.

Mother tidies us up, waiting for the proper escort and unloading, but I really can’t take it anymore.

“Papa….save me….papa~” I cry, feeling fainter and no less ill though we’ve stopped. It only gets worse with every passing second.

*slam*

Air! Fresh air and solid ground right outside! Oh sweet blessed ground! I can’t jump from windows but the doorway is fair game. So close.

I weakly had thrown myself off and was so close to my beloved solid ground when an evil force block the way snatches me up, shaking me even further. Causing an unconscious and terrible urge to cry pass through my tiny frame despite the familiar somewhat comforting scent of the paternal character.

But curse this body! It’s such a cry baby!

How dare he?! How dare father intercept! I shall cry even harder then.

The private courtyard to our rented resort rooms is of course quite busy. Not as much as the previous hotel, but it ranges from the servents to the stablehands, and all manners of those who dutifully follow after and carry out father’s plans. Work never ends with that man.

So thus, I shall shame him even more in front of everyone. Crying horribly and shamefully all over his person. Take that!

Can your pride stand such a blow?!

“There now Chip. I got you. What a time you must have had. Did you behave for your mother? Did you really miss me so terribly? It’s all better now.” father pats at my back, holding me like I was a three month old in need of a burp.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw” sounds out the witnesses, misunderstanding this cruel play.

Oh for shame.

“Darling? What did you use to tell me? Is this not proper?” mother tsks as she steps down, holding her head up high with a miffed expression.

“Papa!” Lilyanne clumsily toddles to cling and clamor up father’s leg.

Her climbing skills fall short though at past the knee though, where father then has to lean down to assist. Lifting her up with me, much to her giggles and approval. Unlike my ugly ill cries, Lilyanne is the very picture of a sweet and adorable girl, cuddling up or possibly scent-marking my father with her neck.

Strange. I shall blame grampa and all the times he took us to see real life animal planet this summer.

“Forgive me, my love. How is a man supposed to stand by at such a cry?” father balances to two of us, using us as squishy baby shields against mother. As if our cuteness could buffer out his next rude statement.

“If anything, they’re disturbing the peace. What would people think of why they cry so? For dear rescue and salvation? From what nightmareish beast possibly?” he makes it all sound quite frightening yes.

How romantic. Mother obviously agrees with me by showing her displeased stare.

“Hmmpf. Very well then, Frederick dear. You may save our girls by carrying them entirely, and my bags, to our rooms. No need to bother the servents, for what would they think?!” she walks off with a huff. The sun gleaming on the sparkly silver embroidery of her silky peach dress, something that compliments her complexion rather well.

The shiny makes it easy to follow along, which is apparently what we’re stuck doing.

“…Yes, my love.” father replies, acting ever the whipped husband.

“I expect the girls cleaned, dressed and put to bed for their nap. No strange business of whisking them away in any pocket of your coat? Oh what would people think, best you do it all yourself.” she lists off, walking straight as the servants’ bow, clear the way, and do absolutely nothing to save father.

“No, my love. What you say, my Maria. ” father agrees, readjusting his grip on the increasing amount of stuff he’s stuck carrying along with not one but two toddlers.

“In fact, I feel faint myself. Such rides, and the heat, do tire me so…” mother takes off her hat the moment we step inside.

When she fails to find a rack or maid to immediately take it away, she throws it on father’s head instead. As if her were a walking rack.

Lilyanne seems to find the whole thing rather amusing. Reaching up to try and blind this foolish father of ours with the floppy hat. How we have not gone crashing, even past stairs is a great mystery.

“Your resort, and its springs, have been seen to. No ugly inconveniences, I made sure of such. Please, enjoy to heart’s content my dear fair wife. ” he continues to be left with no choice but to follow along.

“Hmmm, a bath at this hour? How luxurious. But I shall have a spot of tea, and perhaps a restful nap first. ” mother taps in though, throwing off her gloves once we enter into the minimally but tastefully furnished suite, the bedroom just in sight beyond the doorway.

“Of course, how thoughtless of me. ” father agrees.

He could just throw us down a couch, even the bed, along with mother’s bags, and make an escape for it. But no. For he likes to suffer apparently, after all that is the only conclusion I can make on how he even married the woman that is my mother in the first place.

“Oh do pour it for me, darling. I simply can’t lift another finger. ” with a dramatic swoon, mother falls to a conveniently cushioned fainting seat. As if greatly fatigued from giving orders.

“Yes dear, I with my invisible metaphorical extra limbs, shall care for all your needs and wants. My greatest regret is not seeing to it before you inconvenience your two gracious lips to speak it to existence. ”

I feel like crying even harder.

Especially so when father leans down, looking absolutely ridiculous, to place a quick kiss on the woman still pretending to be mad at him. I cry into his chest and Lilyanne curious hands patting my side. I cry for this all to be over with!

Close the door and flirt elsewhere! There are children present! I am a child!

I was wrong mother! I’ll never call for father like that again. I’ll be a good and proper lady that suffers silently in the barf machine, perhaps spitting up more on your expensive dresses instead…but I’ll be good otherwise.

Just stop this disgusting torture!

“Oh dear. The girls. The tea. And then…my bath. Remember dear, to do it all personally~” mother sweetly smiles from her lounging seat, perhaps reaching for her fan to laugh evilly behind it..

“Of course my love, it is my honor to serve.”

Bullshit! Serve me the way out of here!

Thus I stay very very very good when father finally sets us down for bed. Like a good servant boy, he sets out water, cleans our hands and faces, asks us lightly for any other needs. I don’t even cry when he undresses and redressed us into nighties. Not a single complaint of shame or anything of the sort.

I play very dead and nice when father tucks us into the clean sheets, relents to Lilyanne’s demands of goodnight kisses, and finally, god damn finally, closes the door.

There is exactly one second of sweet peace and relief. All before a great series of crashing and mother’s out of breath laughing sounds out from outside. Oh god, NO!

“Personally?”…another crash and horrible sound, “Then is it your turn dear wife?”

“Hmmm, yes. *smooch* Yes oh please, do save me from all my pains and suffering.”

“What first my love?”

“My dress will do~”

“MAKE IT STOP!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!”

I cry into the pillow, so much so even poor Lilyanne sits up to comfort me. Patting my back with a “there dere Rosa”.

The door creaks back open, mother peeking her head in with a diabetic sweet smile. Her hair slightly askew and the top of dress mysteriously already loosened.

“Oh hoho~ What’s wrong? Do my cute little girls, in much need of their naps, need anything further? Oh I should have known your papa couldn’t quite handle it… ”

From outside, the nerd makes a sound of annoyance.

“NO!” I cry, cowering.

Please just close that door and go away, far far away.

“Mama! Rosa got scared! Mama nap wit us!” my sister stupidly waves her arms out, as if in need of a disgusting hug.

“Absolutely not. Go to sleep.” At this moment father is the one who peeks his head in. Blank faced with a very clear rejection.

But how could mother fight off the call…of cuteness!

“Mama! Lily wanna nap wit mama….” she cries, stretching her little arms out.

“No no no do not.” I try pulling her back, failing to control the shivers that wreck my little body.

“And Rosa too, pwease mama?” she tearfully blinks up.

“No!” I cry for very different reasons.

Father pales even before the great squealing begins, all of us knowing mother is already broken.

“Kyaaaaaa!!!~ kyaa kyaa too cute!~ Of course my babies!”

Impressively she somehow drops and throws off all her outer clothing at light speed, flinging them at the human coat rack that is father all before she dives violently into pillows and sheets where we lay.

“Yay! Yay mama! Lookie Rosa! Now sleepies.” Lilyanne cheers over mother’s sudden cuddles, looking to me as if expecting praise.

I turn over with my pillow, cursing her silently in my head. I stay limp as mother, in nothing but her silk chemise, crushes and rubs us silly in her love of cuteness before retucking all of us in.

“Shoo shoo now darling, I temporarily release you. ” mother waves a hand at the doorway.

“…Maria…you can’t be serious.” the talking clothes rack complains in a deadpan.

“Thank you for your service. Close the door. Then prepare my bath for later. Time for a lady’s nap now. Good day to you.” she plops down with us cuddled on either side, sheets and all. Completely ignoring the nerd she called husband to blissfully fall asleep first.

Mother? Mother? I slap at her to no avail. This woman is legitimately asleep?! How!?

I almost feel bad for father. Not really. But almost.

Well, at least the grossness stopped. Time for a good nap indeed.

——————-

——–

Every time I am forced to spend any sort of time traveling, my next sleep time is usually as long and deep as a magically zapped out Lilyanne. That or when grampa has too much wine for lunch and takes an extra siesta right after.

I’ve outslept everyone!

Mother and Lilyanne are gone, while the peeks of light beyond the curtain fading to almost nonexistent.

“Oh my young miss, you’re up!” Abbey sets aside the items she was unfolding out from luggage to address me. Coming right up to my bedside to pour me a cup of water.

I don’t love the gaggle of maids as much as Lilyanne, nor do I need them. While my mother’s own maids intimidate me in ways I can’t find enough evidence to prove yet. Secret guards, I swear. So it was the reasonable wise choice to take my own personal maid to attend to me.

Especially so since Georgie isn’t here.

I sigh at the inconveniences faced without him, but it is good to take Abbey out once in a while. Expand her horizons. Give her some more experiences under my service beyond the villa. This particular trip won’t be very long, away from the mess of construction at home. So it’s fine to just lock up all my research and inventory.

“Yes thank you Abbey, what have I missed?” I sip, wetting my dry throat.

“Oh um, well -yyoung Miss Lilyanne is out to play and have dinner outside with your honored grandfather.”

“What?!” I spit back out my drink.

Grampa’s here too?! When? Why does that crazy old man come with no warning or schedules? He just shows up as he pleases.

And he left me here? How dare he.

“Y-yes. It-it was insisted by-by the Lord and Lady that- y-you rest as you needed my y-young miss.”

It can’t be helped, my motion sickness is famous after all.

“Fine. So be it. I am very awake now. ” I wave off, handing back the water and stretching the sleep from my sore little limbs and muscles.

Hmmm, shall I take a dip in the hot springs here?

However I am quite small, I can only go with aid. No matter how shallow the pools. Oh and there’s always the public ones. As a pampered noble from such a family, I’ve never stepped foot into those. How interesting it would be to see. But I also don’t know if a child’s body enjoys them as much as my older self.

“A-and…y-your mother….um…the lady is….um, occupied to the baths?”

“No need to say it any further, Abby! I understand a married couple needs their alone time, without any pesky children involved. I will of course, not even dine with my family tonight.” I grimace at her words.

Ignore it, Rosalia. Just ignore it girl. Gross couples will be gross.

I had no problems handling them at the bar, or around my social life. In fact, it’s even fun, in some sick gaudy way, to match people together.

But why are these two just so extraordinarily disgusting?!! Is it because they’re this body’s biological parents? Sheesh. Way to make my motion sickness worse with their grossness.

“…I- beg pardon my-my young miss?” my little maid honestly looks very lost and confused. As if there’s a code of mine she’s failed to memorize, let alone understand.

“Ah my mistake, Abbey. Yes please keep your clear good innocent mind as such for as long as possible.” I pat at her hand.

Oh such a sweet summer child. So naively good. I can’t recall a time I was ever like that, in any lifetime.

Can’t be helped. I have been exposed to too much internet. Oh how I miss the ye old internet. Such a distantly fond memory.

“What else?” I wave, allowing the maid to continue her updates as I get up to dress.

“U-um, the t-traning t-troops unit with Georgie has a-arrived!”

“Oh, how wonderful.” I clap, admittedly sounding a bit like mother.

My assistant is back! Life is admittedly much more convenient with him around. Something I failed to appreciate when he was. But it was a very suitable punishment.

No putting strange things into my food or drink without my full knowledge and explicit permission.

My little assistant is not Alfonso, who would at least announce serving me sleeping or headache medication. Of course, that was for an older and much busier Rosalia, in occasional need of the painkillers. Not me, the toddler.

“B-but he won’t be returning u-until the n-next next day? I believe they’re celebrating…. o-outside a-at a …d-drinking establishment.”

“Georgie’s at a bar?! Without me?!” I gasp at the thought.

What is this? What happened to the torture -err I mean discipline that was meant to be instilled to him?! But then again, with that section of trainees, he is with a rowdy bunch of mostly young men…Oh dear.

“E-eep! F-forgive me, my-my young miss. I-I could n-not stop them!” Abbey immediately bows, trembling the way she does around intimidating strangers.

So she must have ran into them?

“It’s alright Abby…however…did you or did you not catch the address of where they’ll be?” I ask curiously.

The wheels in my head are already turning. My sister is out of the equation, taken out by my grampa. According to my previous travel history, I am expected to be out for the rest of the evening. As if my parents weren’t pro-occupied enough. No this is even better. The usual staff isn’t around to guard after me. The stars are all aligning for me.

“Um…I suppose, yes…” Abby begins to answer nervously.

“Let’s go.”

“Eeeeeep! B-but-”

Apparently, those were the words she feared. Oh, this poor shy thing.

“Oh ho ho Abigail. We must not only welcome back Georgie but ensure his safety. Besides. If even my cute delicate little sister is out on the town. You wouldn’t lock me, your poor pitiful lonesome young miss, to dine and cry on my lonesome here?”

“o-of course not my y-young miss. B-but..”

“But of course, you fear the sense of things. How do we get out of here safely, let alone me? Well, worry not Abbey.”

Sometimes it’s better to act than talk. This is a limited time frame, a chance deal. Only available right now.

In my baggie, I hold a secret weapon. …A disguise!

Short hair, short legs, short little sleeves and an adorable little hat, all together I make. A cute little sailor suit kiddy! Minus the sailing. The Rosalia edition. Oh wait, not Rosalia, no for I am passing off as a little boy now.

“A-amazing!” Abby applauds at my transformation.

“Oh ho ho isn’t it? Like this, no one will know I am a young miss at all.” I huff up my chest and adjust my little ties.

Can’t be looking too expensive now, wouldn’t want to be kidnapped.

“Listen to my orders Abigail. You shall be running ‘errands’ and stopping by to deliver a message to Georgie. I, a mere guest of a little boy, by chance happens to accompany you. Now off you go to get permission, I shall climb out the window and meet you by oh say one of the lanterns by the doorway. Off now!”

“-N-not that I would ever disobey my -yyoung miss but-”

“Off!”

“Eep yes!”

I watch as my little maid scampers off. Then look down at myself. Hmmm yes I see her point, I am just too cute. Eat your heart out ladies. Let’s scruff myself up a bit more, look a bit poorer. Oh no, I am still just too adorable as a boy.

Can’t be helped. These tragic good looks in chubby toddler form are such a curse as they are a blessing.

I wait and prepare the best I can. Timing myself appropriately. All before climbing out the window. Oh ho ho, all those past sneaking around practices with the boys sure are paying off.

Huh? I should check up on the status of the other minion sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow? Make sure he’s not being poisoned or abused to death again. Something like that? Great history on that kid. And he won’t stay still under anyone’s watch either? Really now the hell is he doing running around? At his age? What a concerning child.

Too bad child protective services don’t exist here. I know a different world means different standards but seriously. Who thinks it’s okay to let little kids go off on grand adventures and dangerous missions?

Is it the money? Hmmm yes, money does make the world spin.

In my thoughts and hopping out the courtyards, the lantern lights in my area suddenly go out. Not creepy at all.

“What the hell?” I mutter, talking to myself to ease the fear.

Nice almost darkness. No ghosties here. Nope. Look there’s the setting sun! I will not turn back, I will not turn back, this much can’t scare me to turn back!

A bar-eerrr I mean Georgie is waiting for me.

And so I continue along, waiting fearlessly for my late little maid. The figure of her mousy dress ans shawl tripping over nothing eventually appearing before me.

“My-my y-young miss, I-I’ve been t-told can catch a deli-livery wagon to t-town.” she huffs before me, tired out.

“Ahem. No Abbey. I am not your miss tonight but onwards, we are losing daylight.” I gesture to my disguise, calmly walking along.

“B-but then, what d-do I address my y-young miss as?”

“Hmm let’s think about it once we catch the wagon. Onwards Abbey, we haven’t a spare moment to lose. ”

A tad confusing of a route but all delivery and loading docks somewhat look the same. It’s a bit rocky, and risky, to be taking another vehicle today but that is precisely why I did not risk eating any snacks or supper. There are no seats but some messy stacks of hay, but the open air of a cooling late summer evening is quite refreshing, as is the lovely sky of orange melding into a pre-nighttime purple.

The changing of the seasons is approaching. Sometimes I hardly noticed as an adult in another world. Too busy to really appreciate that most days.

Well except for the whole addition of pumpkin spice flavored everything.

Sometimes though, we’d try.

Orchard picking is best in summer and fall, and for some reason, not only Jung-Joon but his entire family misunderstood I particularly liked that kind of shit. Bleh, car rides there were the worst. But it’s fun in its own way. Even better if horses were available for rides. Kind of romantic I admit, especially with only two people, but absolutely wasted on me.

Also, fun as groups! Pumpkin picking is loads more enjoyable, and delicious than say selecting another holiday tree.

Those boys would carve the stupidest shit in them as Jack o’ lanterns though, my own brother no exception. Did they have to make it into an annual competition? Really now?

Ah, it’s been so long.

“Have you ever been to bar Abby?” I ask my little maid over the noisy rolling of wooden wheels on cobblestone stone roads.

“A bar?” the mousey girl repeats questioningly. Her shakey but deft hands trying to neaten and re-tie her two long braids.

“Wine bar. WIne house. Tavern. Pub. Brewery. Whatever variation of the name.” I adjust my hat, definitely not feeling for the hair that’s not there. Well, at least there’s something growing in, and I’m not entirely buzzcut bald.

“Um-um sometimes, back then I- would accompany my-my father or br-brothers. Um-um sometimes I-I would go to-to tell them it was time to c-come home t-too. I-it’s a little e-expensive but a very warm and l-lively place. I-I don’t think l-like wine or ales much. They’re very b-bitter. ” my little maid tries to recall.

Different world, different standards. Plenty of pubs and wine houses around that act more like general restaurants and eateries. Children might not exactly be advertised as welcome but it’s no problem to give them a seat and a bite to eat with their parents.

A problem might be that a standard drinking age technically doesn’t exist. It really varies per place.

Of course, though, no one would serve a child as young as me.

Not that that was my plan or anything. Sheesh, I’m not that bad, not like the alcoholic old man. I just maybe want to see, smell…have just a little fun.

It’s awfully stifling to always be attached and watched over by at least one of my family members. Seriously it’s always either grampa, father or mother. The only blessed exception is when I’m under Gable’s stern supervision.

Hey Miss. Original, are you happy now? I can’t even get them off my back.

It won’t be forever. In fact, it won’t be very long now when the wheels of time really start turning, and this odd overprotective peace time ends. But for now?

The breeze just feels so nice traveling on my own. With my little maid of course.

Oh ho ho ho how exciting!

Even though the seat is literally a pile of hay, I silently ‘ooo’ and ‘aahhh’ like a comfortable tourist, sitting up high above all the sights of the streets. As the sun sets, magical and oil fueled fire lit lanterns line the streets. Cobblestone and old romantic architecture, summer rich flowers and draping ivy. It holds all the atmosphere of any Mediterranean resort town too. So extra pretty in it’s natural simplicity.

I bet a honeymoon-worthy place like this would break the bank trying to plan a trip to in another world. How dangerous. I must enjoy to the limits of my parents’ money! If that exists? Oh ho ho let’s test it out.

Luckily for my little maid and I, the delivery wagon takes us not only through the open town square and adorable flower bush filled residential hills but closer to the outskirts of the ‘nice’ town. Where the commoners and actual locals live, conducting their daily business.

Ah yes, the authentic travel experience. Where the best kind of fun and food is! My traveling tourist senses are tingling.

You can’t tourist trap me and scam my money, even if I am rich now!

It really is very exciting. I never really got to travel alone before. It always with someone. Sharing with another group of friends to save time and money. Pushing along my little brother and his video camera. I even shamefully tagged along with another family on their trips back to Asia.

Ah but how could I resist? The temptation is too much, even without J.J. begging me with puppy dog eyes.

Even for official business trips when I got older, it’s usually with my manager Yao or another couple of co-workers. Never by myself.

Well…except for that one time? It really was a big pain in the ass to book that event job in Paris. I worked my ass off to just get the chance. It was supposed to be with Yao too. But then I took off two week ahead of time to enjoy myself first! …That and plane tickets were much cheaper then.

I don’t think that really counted though?

Since I was alone for exactly one plane ride, and one train trip. But that was my fault, since I chose to buy a damn rail ticket, and pop in to bother him during his stuides. It was only supposed to be for a little bit, not my entire vacation before work. Should have known Jung-Joon wouldn’t leave me alone after that.

Ah my bad. Should have known.

“Guess where I am now?” I remember snickering on the phone.

Despite the summer hot sun radiating down, burning up the pavement and making everything feel like the inside of tableware I felt a little too numb and giddy at my carefully kept prank.

It was a really fun prank of a trip though…even if I got sunstroke the first day.

Oh hoho okay then! Enough embarrassing thoughts!

“My y-young miss, are you feeling unwell?” Abbey makes to feel my too warm face.

Something I wave her off on. I’m rather reasonably fine even, this slow open-air wagon ride not as bad for my motion sickness as it could be. I enjoy the breeze and acting like another unknown, lost in the mysterious mood of a lovely new place.

Eventually, Abbey points to certain lit up and rowdy looking building in the distance. The sound and sights of many steeds in a half-open stable, informs one of the amount of fresh travelers. A connected solid double story building shines with light and rough laughter. A hanging wooden sign swings with painted letters spelling out: “The Third Thirsty Goat”.

Yes yes yes, it has all the makings of a cheap but popular tavern that’s visited by locals and tourists alike. Is there a first and second thirsty goat? Sounds like my kind of place.

Abbey helps me down the pile of hay and tips the driver appropriately for the trouble of our weights. She is however quite reluctant to take another step further. As a young maiden unaccompanied by a male relative, I can understand her position and fears. Her nervous face on the verge of a tearful breakdown stopping me from running straight in far more effectively than physical force.

Damn it.

“Abbey, we can approach it slowly.” I coax on her.

The sound of a crashing horn cup, wood, and roaring laughter make her jump in fright, undoing all my efforts.

“Ah, you know how it gets. Come on, we can go quietly from the side entrance?” I try leading her to some success.

We linger outside a bit, slowly walking around and spying the type of patrons going in and out. All of them generally cheerful and in good spirits. Occasionally an emotional crier sobs on a friend’s shoulder getting escorted for a breath of fresh air. Occasionally two muscle bounded guys ‘take it outside’.

“Eeeep…” Abbey whimpers at the fight, which oddly ends in both men punching each other’s faces out. Then laughing and shaking hands, even hugging.

“That just how some guys are. I promise that’s not compulsory.” I pat at my maid.

People come and go, a decent amount in some part of the troop’s issued armor. I can see it’s a listed stopover. Probably for the lads to unwind and celebrate, especially if they just marched from somewhere like the outpost I just visited.

It’s definitely way more men than women. But the occasional local girl or female soldier going about helps to soothe Abbey’s nerves about the place.

More importantly, Georgie is supposedly inside!

With baby steps, we quietly make our way inside.

Oh my, it’s hideous! A barn of men and poor taste. It reeks of cheap wine, ale and very greasy and salty food. It doesn’t even have all the cool easily breakable decor of a video game tavern. How rustic. How rural. Yet everyone enjoys themselves immensely. Absolutely fascinating!

One big man cracks a giant hard boiled egg on his head to unpeel it. He takes a bite and trades it off to his buddy four another pour of ale.

A semi-familiar one eyed woman smirks at the table of cards, downs her wine before slamming down her winning hand to everyone’s screams and cries.

A middle aged man carries in tankards worth of refills of something and half the bar cheers.

Now that’s a bar.

It’s only the fear of leaving Abbey lost and alone that I don’t run and climb up anything for a better view.

“Oh my~ Can I get you cuties anything? How about a clear seat? Don’t get your type round here much, how cute~” a sultry bar maid comes slide a pair of barrels for us.

Like a mockery of a lady she overly curtsies to me in good humor, as if asking for permission to lift me up. Which I allow of course. However, I think Abbey is having an aneurysm as the barmaid handles her up like a shaking mannequin.

“Oh? A first timer~ How fun, I know just the thing for you cutie.” she hangs Abbey’s shawl over her lap, undoes her braids in a split second, pinning it half up to a looser more flattering style, and pours a goblet of partly fermented plum colored punch with a stick of herbs.

The without even taking my order, I get nothing but juice and a plate of something that looks like a chopped grilled eel in front of me. Oh and a wink.

Sure there are no menus in sight but uh ok?

Oh it’s tasty! And the tartness of the plum juice cuts the grease of the eel so deliciously!

“Call me if you cuties need anything else~” she winks and blows kisses

Thank you kinda psychic sexy bar maid! Excellent service, 5 out of 5 stars.

“Awwww did you hear that! So cute~” the barmaid goes chattering to her co-worker. Leaving me to my meal and Abbey to her apparent twitching stroke.

Drink your kinda juice Abbey. It’s basically alcohol-free.

When Abbey slowly calms down, perhaps with the help of whatever was in that plum punch, we have a great time simply observing everything.

But the problem is, wherever is our Georgie?

“Excuse me,” I wave down the 5-star barmaid.

I do not actually think she’s psychic. But when she smiles and points over to a section of the bar, covered by burly men drinking, then really points to a center spot, I feel I might have to stop thinking.

There’s Georgie! A little more unkempt, but that’s still my hard work in his soft acne-free skin and shiny brown hair. Being so much slimmer than most of the guys around him, it’s just easy not to see him.

“And then I roasted the hell out of that garlic! Mashed it fine through a sleeve to slather over that boar!” with a slight flush to his cheeks, he heroically tells the tale of his camping cooking to the oooing and awwing of some bulky jocks around his age.

They clap and clamor after his every word. One writing down notes on his arm in charcoal, another one even dumbly asking “but wat is er a garlic?”.

Ah. How cute. Georgie has made some friends. That or food slaves. I can’t blame them if they came from the outpost. It really really sucked there.

“I couldn’t help but overhear such a fine tale. Please, let me buy you a drink.” a slightly beared man approaches their party, perhaps a local judging from his clothing.

There’s no reason but the psychic experience I’ve gained from working a bar myself, that I instantly feel something is very wrong. Call it instinct. Call it a creep alert. I have no proof but a girl just knows.

“In fact, the next round of drinks for you all in on me.” he order wine and ales for the small bunch of late teenagers.

Concerning to me but normal enough here, for they all cheer. Minus Georgie. The strange man hands my buzzed silly assistant a drink he carried over personally. Something stronger and more expensive I can tell. They clink their glasses in a smiling cheer.

But wrong. It feels absolutely wrong.

“Georgie no! Abbey, we have to stop him. ” I shake my maid, accidentally making her choke. Feeling desperate I look for that barmaid, lost in the crowds. Just like my own voice and height fail to reach.

“Georgie! Georgie, it’s me! I forbid you, get away from there!” I hop down, trying to get over there.

I don’t care if I cause a ruckus. The creep alerts are baring red hot in my head and I think Georgie is getting roofied!

“Ack!” I feel myself get pushed back. Stopped and accidentally kicked from the crowd of clumsy drunk and buzzed people.

I even go flying back into some low barrels. Oh fuck, oh ouch. That did not help my earlier motion sickness.

I feel it in slow motion as I’m too late, catching Georgie drop and spill the glass.

“Oi oi oi whattup with the cook?”

“Georgie? Georgie you alright there buddy?”

“Ahahaha he just slumped on over!”

Young and naive, just kids, they all are. Oh god that’s why we have the drinking age higher or some shit. 16 is definitely a no go but here it is. The trainees around him laugh and tease, even through their concern.

“Must have had too much to drink. Please, enjoy your drinks and allow me to take him up to rest it off.” the older man offers them another couple of ales. Reaches to lean and support a 16 year old boy, god damn it, onto his grip.

“No! No no no! Let him go!” I shout, despite the pain in my guts.

I can’t move fast enough though. I can’t do anything through all these barrels and people. I can’t.

I get another bruising trip and kick, mess up of chairs and spilled splatter running through it all. But the man starts to really move, Georgie blearily blinking through the haze. He looks drunk but I know it’s more than that. I do my best to keep my eyes on him but I can’t just make it fast enough. Not when I trip on another spill. Not when I know that shit is getting away.

God damn it!

“What are you doing?” a too quiet little voice asks.

It sounds as if it bends down to pick me up, even though it’s not very high. Hardly that much taller than me. Still very much child height. I can hardly see through my tears and I suddenly realize how much I’m crying, I can’t even speak from my hiccuping.

“G-g-o-g” my lungs fail me at this very moment, stuttering worse than Abbey.

I can’t breathe. I can’t even shout for help.

“It was really scary, right? It’s ok. Georgie is going to be ok. Let’s get you clean up, ok? I think Abbey is looking really hard for you. She’s crying too.”

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK?!” screams out a man, clearly in pain.

“Y-young miss!” Abbey calls out from the opposite direction, sobbing when Amar delivers me back to her skirts. The flustered barmaid right behind her in the search.

“Stay good. Don’t cry? Georgie is gonna be ok.” the kid pats the both of us crying girls a few times, before running off.

Right to the center of an increasingly growing crowd. Unlike me, that one is actually good at getting through and under all the adults’ legs.

I still have a terrible case of the hiccups, angry crying impairing my breathing. But I gesture up to Abbey, wanting to see what’s going on. But it’s the barmaid that catches on first, lifting me on her shoulders.

“Ha…if you wanted a turn. I would have gladly taken your pretty face up first over your easy friend there. ” the man I now Iabel an absolute certified creep, a disgusting pervert, should be chopped chopped, laughs lowly while nursing his injured blood hand.

A dirty blond head and a boy even smaller and younger than Georgie growls almost animalistically, baring his teeth. It’s not very intimidating when Georgie leans slumped over his shoulder, bleary and groaning.

From the side, a woman in a colorful though roughed up dress, and smooth dreadlock like braid forces her way through, offering to take Georgie.

Perhaps it’s because she’s a rather non-threatening female, or perhaps it’s because Amar clings behind her legs, that Yuna relents. I don’t know if he’s being soft and careful or angrily flinging Georgie off into the woman’s arms. Cass. That’s right. That’s her name.

Either way, the moment he does, Yuna jumps into the fray. Disappearing from the left and suddenly reappearing in front of the pervert’s face. Specifically with his fist.

“What did you call me?” Yuna spits, oddly too calm for the mass violence that he enacts. punching in the man’s face repeatedly after pinning him down.

“I didn’t quite hear you fuckface?” the 14 year old slams the man’s head down with a harsh grip, ignoring the screaming. Ignores how it grows all the louder when Yuna impossibly twins and snaps his arms to an angle that was in now way natural.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me? Huh? Should we take this outside? Huh?! Or upstairs?! Where do you want to die huh fucker?!! ” Yuna screams, choking the man. All before jumping off in frustration, throwing the whimpering bloody mess outside.

The crowd watches with a morbid mix of fascination, amusement, and cheers. All while doing nothing. Just enjoying a show.

This is how this world works in its odd ways. This is too close how I died myself.

But it’s entirely different.

“That’s enough. No killing beyond town borders.” Cass tried to hold back an enraged Yuna.

My grumpy cat looks more than scratched up, ferally growling as if he were a tiger beast ready to claw and feast. His sharp eyes promising he knew exactly how to maul a man to the edge of death, chew up his organs, and leave him to die.

Leaving a very out of it Georgie on the floor, his buzzed but concerned buddies beginning to crowed around him as Amar forces him to drink some strange substance. The kid squishy Georgie’s face, forcing him to look at him.

“You’re gonna be ok Georgie. Look at me. Focus and drink it down. You’re going to be ok. Look. You’re feeling better already.” Amar repeats in some variation.

His too calm demeanor, terrifying for a child, eventually loosens to a more natural scarred expression when Georgie seems to slowly regain his senses. Focusing and reaching for the boy in a comforting petting. Amar breathes a cry in relief as Georgie hugs him. A sign that the worse has passed.

“Georgie?!” I manage to cry out.

Something that forces my still dizzy assistant to look up, part in shock and part in a heartbroken fear.

In a gesture, the barmaid also delivers me to Georgie’s prone form on the floor. And I rush to hang on.

Stupid. Stupid boy. Worst assistant ever.

Who told you to go drinking when you obviously don’t know how to take care of yourself. Bad! Bad Georgie! Why did you accept a drink from a stranger?! Do you have no common sense towards yourself?

“I-I apologize. Don’t cry Rosalia, don’t cry my young miss. You’re right. I know. Thank you. Don’t cry.” this stupid assistant of mine hiccups himself, fat wet tears matching mine. The shaking of his limbs unnatural, and horrifying in what could have been.

For god’s sake. I came out to have a good time tonight, and now I just feel so attacked. Hell we were literally attacked.

As Lukas would say, so not cool.

“Let me go. Just let me-” Yuna snarls against any and everything in his way. All except one very small one.

“Yuna? Yuna don’t go?” Amar tugs on the other boy, slipping out of Georgie’s grip the moment I came into the scene. Instead, he seems to immediately work on not only calming Yuna down, but soothing something I hate to say I recognize.

Angry. Yuna’s so terribly angry still. A rage burns in him that can’t be put out easily, and I’m thankful yes. I’m thankful that it was Yuna that stepped up to save Georgie.

But I fear that it should have been Yuna. Because somehow this has hurt the harsh boy even more.

I would know, that underneath all that anger, is a jagged source of pain. Otherwise what can fuel all that? And in a body so young and small?

Even angry, there’ something beautiful to him. Lively eyes and a pretty frame of hair. Sleek smooth lines and a cry of something I don’t want to relate to.

14.

He’s 14.

The same age as me then. And even angrier at the world.

“Don’t go Yuna. Don’t hurt like that anymore. Please? Please Yuna.” Amar begs in his soft little way. Leaning into the older boy’s side and holding his hand tight, so much so that both their hands turn a shade paler.

“Hey,” Georgie calls out from the floor, grip still tight on me.

Yuna hardly glances down, a strange mixture of his standard grumpy pride and disgust already returning. A mental shield that makes me shiver in shame and empathy.

I know why I always put up with that rude brat, and it’s not because of his good looks. I know. It’s because he reminds me too much of myself back then.

It’s because he reminds me too much of Meng.

“Thank you.” Georgie says straightforwardly, voice serious.

Something that Yuna silently accepts with a moody roll of his eyes, and a drop of his clenched fist. Something that makes Amar tug and smile up at him. As if saying ‘good job’.

“Alright. Clear up, Up up and away with you all.” Cass shoos away the crowd, saying the free show was over.

With more strength than she looks capable of, she lifts both Georgie and me up in a princess hold. Much to our sudden surprise and shame.

“Um…” Georgie nervously starts to address the older woman.

“Patients stay quiet and good, while my patience remains. You’re not fully recovered. Take a rest first, flush more, and then we shall head back.” she carries off to a more private area, nodding to both the barmaid that allows us through and to the boys to follow along. My own maid nervously following herself.

A solemn and strange mood takes over, but it’s not…necessarily bad. Not pleasant, but not bad. Just something that isn’t going to be easy to talk about. Something like a scared sigh of relief.

It’s a very messed up mix mash of bad times here. No need to be a cheat transmigrator or even psychic tell that much. A lot of trauma going on, old a new.

This is not the kind of evening or reunion I was ever expecting. But hey, I guess that’s life for you.

“*Yawn* Alright, sorry for being late. Did you already order and- wait what the…. Rosalia?! ” Another dark and too tired-looking figure yawns through the side door, Vincent stumbling in with a freshly washed face.

He looks at the silent mess of our quiet group, at the obvious signs of wrong and more wrong. Then back out the door as if considering U-turning.

He doesn’t get to make that choice as a rowdy new crowd of fresh faces pours into The Third Thirsty Goat.

“FREEEEEEESH GOODS! AHAHAAHA BOW TO ME AND MY NEW PETS!!! Oh damn do I have stories for you all!!! You would NOT believe what just happened to me! Oh hey VINNY! Long time no see! Eh the brats too? You sly little- here here kiddos I got some sweets for you!” Tamera stomps into the tavern, dressed in nothing but grass. The cheers about her as she dragged a whimpering exotic animal with her.

Yeah, not what I was imaging at all.

Somehow that’s exactly what makes this place feel just like a real bar. Even if I’m just sipping kiddy juice.

Hey, another refill, please.

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