Chapter 2: Gem

The boy knelt beside the makeshift bed lined with tattered cloth and dry straw, his stained fingers carefully cradling the nearly empty Glass Bottle.

Though its odor was pungent and its color murky, this was all he could muster.

This was the boy’s own dwelling, a wedge-shaped gap pressed between two crooked buildings, burrowing ever deeper until it reached a dark, damp pocket of space.

The cacophony of the Slums outside was muffled here, as if separated by a heavy curtain of water.

The only thing clear was the sound of the girl’s breathing, sometimes steady, sometimes hurried.

He wrung out the relatively clean, damp cloth placed on the girl’s forehead. When the cold rag touched her burning skin, her brow furrowed slightly. He immediately softened his movements.

Just earlier, to snatch her back from the Old Madame’s two lackeys, he had nearly lost his own life.

The memory of dragging the girl through the Maze Alleys, running for their lives, still made the boy’s heart pound fiercely.

He knew every turn, every hiding spot in this chaotic zone like the back of his hand.

That familiarity had allowed them to escape from the two furious brutes.

Bruises and scrapes marked the boy’s arms and back from the chase, burning with pain, but at this moment, none of that mattered.

Why was that?

His gaze could not help but fall once more on the girl’s face, finally resting on the faintly trembling tips of her lashes.

Perhaps his decision to intervene was because of these very eyes.

In the shadowy alley, when those unique pink eyes, brimming with fear and helplessness, crashed suddenly into his view, his heart had trembled.

They were like top-grade Alchemical Ingredients, possessing a breathtaking beauty that stood out in stark contrast to the filth and despair of the Poverty District.

By the time he came to his senses, he had already taken the girl and fled.

“Mm…”

The girl let out a faint murmur, her long lashes fluttering like startled butterfly wings before finally lifting slowly.

In that instant, two pools of clear pink emerged.

Her large pink eyes still held lingering moisture and fright, reflecting the boy’s own weary, youthful face.

Like a startled fawn, she suddenly tried to sit up, but the movement tugged at some unseen pain, causing her to gasp softly.

“Don’t be afraid.”

The boy spoke gently, his voice carrying a steadiness rare for someone his age.

He reached out, pressing lightly on her thin shoulder to stop her from getting up.

With a hint of hesitation, his other hand landed softly on her somewhat disheveled short black hair, stroking awkwardly yet patiently, like soothing a frightened little animal.

“We’ve escaped. They can’t catch up. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

He could feel the softness and subtle trembling of her hair beneath his fingers.

“Just rest for now.”

The boy coaxed her softly.

The girl tilted her face, those pink eyes fixed on him for several seconds, as if confirming the truth in his words, as if making sure this dust-streaked boy truly meant her no harm.

At last, the panic in her eyes gradually faded, rippling away like waves until tranquility was restored.

“What’s your name?”

“I… Around here, everyone calls me Merlin.”

The boy had died unexpectedly one morning during his first year of university, and awoke to find himself in the Slums of a Western fantasy world.

As an orphan, relying on knowledge from his previous life and a maturity far beyond his peers, he’d earned quite a bit of respect among the orphans of the Slums, known as Merlin.

Why Merlin? Because the children thought it sounded wise and suited him, and so the boy accepted it.

“Merlin… My name is Mahina.”

“Get some rest.”

“Mm…”

She answered quietly, her voice as light as a feather falling. Then, obediently, the girl closed her eyes again, tucking those pink pools carefully behind her eyelids.

Her body gradually relaxed, her breathing growing deeper and more even.

The boy kept silent watch at her side, only relaxing a little once he was sure she had drifted into peaceful sleep.

He withdrew his hand, silently clutching the now-empty Medicine Bottle, but his eyes never left the girl’s sleeping profile.

“Merlin…”

“What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“All right…”

After a month of living with Mahina, she’d gradually come to trust Merlin.

Though her body, newly recovered, remained frail, at least now during the day, when Merlin went out, there was no longer the constant fear of something terrible happening.

Mahina’s gentle voice broke the silence of the night. Her fingers unconsciously clutched the tattered cloth beneath her.

“What’s wrong?”

Merlin’s reply came immediately from beside her, as he turned in the dimness to look her way.

“I can’t sleep…”

Mahina murmured softly, those pink gemstone eyes dulled by the darkness, shadowed by a layer of unease.

“All right…”

Merlin sighed quietly. He was already used to nights like this.

During this past month together, he had witnessed Mahina’s struggle at Death’s Door.

The high fever had raged as if determined to devour her small body, and the searing pain had made it hard for her to even move a finger.

Carefully, Merlin had fed her thin lips spoonfuls of warm, watery porridge with a chipped wooden spoon, watching her wince in pain with every swallow.

At night, when illness and grief for her lost parents overwhelmed her, she would curl up in a corner that barely qualified as a bed, tears and sweat mingling together.

With a voice barely above a whisper, hoarse with sobs, she would say,

“It hurts so much… It’d be better if it just ended…”

Merlin had said nothing, only pulled her trembling little body into his arms.

“Everything will be all right.”

He patted her back again and again, until her broken tears soaked his thin shoulder.

Now, though her body was slowly recovering, and in the daytime Merlin no longer lived in constant fear of returning to find the worst, perhaps the pain and loss had left a scar too deep—Mahina developed a nearly fledgling-like dependence on Merlin.

In this cramped corner just big enough for them to lie down, there was barely any space at all.

If Merlin didn’t lie right beside her, didn’t pass his warmth to her, didn’t let her hear his breathing, Mahina could not feel at ease—fear would seep in from all directions like the night itself.

“Ah, all right.”

Merlin only felt that lying so close to a girl was a bit improper, but seeing her pitiful expression, there was no other way.

Hearing his resigned reply, Mahina inched her body closer, until her forehead gently touched Merlin’s arm.

She drew warmth and comfort from the contact, as if it was the only cure for her nightmares.

Merlin could feel her small movements and taut nerves. He did not pull away, but instead shifted so she could lean against him more comfortably.

“Sleep.”

Merlin spoke softly, his voice extra clear and gentle in the tiny space.

Feeling the warmth from Merlin’s shoulder, Mahina’s tense nerves finally eased a little.

She let out a faint “Mm,” but did not close her eyes.

“Still not sleeping?”

“Tonight… I want to hear a bedtime story too…”

“You really are a handful.”