Randia knelt down for a closer look at the little girl. Up close, she looked nothing like the street rat her ragged clothes suggested. Beneath the dirt and neglect was a face that could have rivaled the daughters of lesser nobles. Her skin was fair despite years beneath the sun, though hunger had hollowed her cheeks and countless spots and blotches dulled what should have been youthful radiance. Yet none of those things held Randia's attention for long. The only feature that truly caught his interest was her eyes.
Scarlet.
Not reddish-brown. Not crimson beneath the sunlight. Scarlet.
"Are you going to lecture me?" she snapped. "How else do you think I could live if not this way?!"
"There’s always another way."
"Ha! It’s easy, isn’t it?! Running your mouth about what should and shouldn’t be?! What do you even know about me?!"
Randia studied her for another moment before answering.
"... The color of your eyes speaks a lot about who you are."
The girl frowned, clearly not understanding what he meant. Before she could demand an explanation, Randia rose to his feet and extended a hand toward her.
"Come with me. We’ll eat somewhere more proper. After that, we’ll talk."
"Huh?! What makes you think I’ll just follow you like some house pet?! Go screw yourself!"
"Watch your words, brat. You could die much sooner than you think. And I can confidently say that I’m your best bet. Know that the pain you feel in your stomach at night is not just hunger, but something far worse."
The hostility vanished from her face almost immediately. She stared at him as though he had somehow reached inside her head and uncovered a secret she had never shared with anyone. The man did not know her name. He did not know where she came from. Yet he had spoken of the pain she endured every night with unsettling certainty. For a long moment she simply stood there, searching his face for some sign of deception. In the end, she found none.
Perhaps it was foolish to trust a stranger. Perhaps it was dangerous. But she had little left to lose.
"You’re not lying… right?" she asked quietly. "D-Do I get to choose what to eat?"
"As long as it costs less than twenty Rios. And if you mind your words and manners."
That afternoon became the finest meal of Viena's life.
The food kept arriving while she kept eating, and by the end of it she felt as though her stomach might burst. More than once she had to stop and catch her breath, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food in front of her. There were dishes she had only ever smelled from afar and others she had never even seen before.
"Everything is so delicious… I wish I had a bigger stomach."
Across the table, Randia had barely touched his meal.
At first Viena paid it little attention, too busy enjoying her own food, but eventually the sight began to bother her. The longer she watched him, the more convinced she became that he might have spent all his money on her meal and left nothing for himself. The possibility stirred a strange sense of guilt she wasn't accustomed to feeling.
"Hey, mister. We don’t even know each other’s names."
"Do we have to?"
"Of course! It’s mandatory to know who’s eating at the same table as you! I’m Viena. What’s your name?"
Randia paused.
"... Ran."
The answer sounded suspiciously short, but Viena was too distracted to question it. Instead, she gathered the leftovers from her plates and arranged them neatly before sliding the dish toward him.
"Here. We shouldn’t waste food."
"Then eat it all up. I’m not hungry."
"If you don’t eat, then I shouldn’t either."
Her tone was unexpectedly firm. Before Randia could respond, she stuck two fingers toward her mouth as though intending to force herself to throw everything back up. Judging from the stubborn look in her eyes, she seemed fully prepared to go through with it. Randia immediately caught her wrist and stopped her.
A few moments later, he found himself reluctantly eating.
Viena watched him with open fascination. Despite his size, there was a surprising orderliness to everything he did. His movements were neither hurried nor wasteful, and somehow he managed to eat enormous mouthfuls while maintaining a degree of grace she rarely saw in ordinary people. Every time his cup emptied, she quietly poured another glass of water for him and continued staring.
Only then did she realize something.
The amount she had eaten would barely make a dent in his appetite.
The thought left her feeling slightly embarrassed.
As the meal continued, she found herself studying him more carefully. He certainly didn't look rich. There was no horse waiting outside, no expensive leather, no jewelry, and no signs of status. Everything about him suggested an endlessly wandering traveler carrying his life inside a worn rucksack. On top of that, he was about as cheerful as a gravestone.
Which only made his actions harder to understand.
"You’re weird," she said. "Why would you go so far for a total stranger like me? D-Don’t tell me... are you one of those slavers?!"
Randia ignored the question entirely. He stacked the dirty dishes and carried them toward the counter himself, an act so unusual that several nearby patrons looked up from their meals.
"Wait here."
Naturally, Viena did no such thing.
She followed him closely and listened as he spoke with the innkeeper about renting a room.
"... Daughter charges extra, Sir."
The innkeeper's gaze shifted toward Viena.
Only then did Randia notice she was standing directly behind him, one hand gripping the edge of his cloak.
"I said we’ll only talk. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"
"If you mean another stinky haystack for tonight’s sleep, then no, I don’t."
Randia pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Sigh. You’re not going to scram off even if I tell you to, are you?"
"That’s right!"
Viena grinned and wrapped herself in his cloak as though claiming ownership of it. After a moment of silent resignation, Randia reached deeper into his purse.
"Don’t give me that look. I’ll even give you half of my savings for this once-in-three-years experience!"
Digging through her pocket, Viena proudly produced three worn Rios she had carried for as long as she could remember.
"Keep it. And try to behave."
The room itself was modest and unremarkable, but the moment the door opened Viena rushed inside as though she had been granted entry into a royal palace. Her excitement exploded in every direction at once. She circled the room repeatedly, inspected every corner, opened and closed drawers, poked the blankets, touched the furniture, and filled the air with an endless stream of commentary.
Randia covered his ears.
When that failed, he rubbed his face.
When that failed too, he simply endured.
Eventually, Viena made a running leap toward the bed. Randia caught the back of her shirt before she could land and lowered her gently back onto the floor.
"You smell bad. Don’t smear it on the clean sheets."
The resulting outrage echoed through the room for quite some time.
Afterward, the two headed for the town's public bathhouse. It was the first proper opportunity either of them had enjoyed in weeks. The warm water washed away layers of dust and sweat gathered over countless miles of travel, and by the time they finished, the afternoon had already begun slipping toward evening.
The sun's harsh glare had softened considerably by the time Viena stepped outside. Cool air drifted through the streets while the horizon glowed with fading gold. Dressed in the cheap new clothes and shoes Randia had bought for her, she carried her old belongings in a basket, intending to wash them in the river the following morning.
Randia was waiting nearby.
Together, they started back toward the lodge.
"Ahh, I'm feeling refreshed! But honestly, I don't think it is worth paying that much just for a soak . . . We can always use the water from the well, you know! Although we need to stand in line and wait for our turn."
Randia did not reply.
"You are so boring! You need to talk more!"
"You talk too much. You need to shut your mouth."
Viena immediately repeated his words in a mocking imitation that sounded nothing like him. Randia ignored her and continued walking, his attention drawn elsewhere. The farther they moved through town, the more obvious the stares became.
People noticed them.
More specifically, people noticed Viena.
Parents instinctively pulled their children closer whenever she passed. Others turned away with poorly concealed disdain. Some whispered openly while casting disapproving glances in her direction. None of it escaped Randia's notice.
"You're not afraid?" Randia asked.
"Of what?"
Viena moved a little closer to him.
"Of them."
She followed his gaze and looked around at the townsfolk before giving the question some thought.
"Hm. Right now? No."
"Because you are used to it?"
"Nope. Because you are here, and you are so big like a wall! I wouldn't be walking this far to the middle of the road if I was alone."
The answer came so naturally that Viena barely seemed aware of what she had said.
Randia said nothing in return.
His eyes drifted toward the twilight stretching across the horizon while the evening crowd flowed around them. The weight that had accompanied him for fifteen years lingered as heavily as ever, pressing against his chest with quiet persistence. Looking at Viena, he could not help but see another victim of circumstances she had never chosen for herself. The hostility directed at her came so casually, so naturally, that most people no longer noticed it. Yet to Randia, those looks felt profoundly wrong.
A child should not have to become accustomed to that kind of treatment.
As the two continued down the road toward the lodge, Viena's voice remained as lively as ever beside him, filling the evening air with complaints, questions, and observations. Randia listened in silence. Somewhere beneath the burden he had carried for so long, something old stirred again.
For the first time in years, the path ahead no longer felt entirely empty.