Chapter 3. What It Feels Like To Have A Father
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After the conversation about the old man, the two continued with their meal. As El ate his second portion of meat along with other dishes, he looked up to see the man already on his tenth portion, with all the dishes being different types. Even after more than an hour had passed, he was still going strong with it, leaving El speechless.
'Is he... starved or something?'
El had already waved goodbye to the kind mother from earlier, whose cute sons and daughter had curiously looked at him while hiding behind their mother's legs.
After finishing her meal, she purposely passed by El's table, taking a moment to ask if he was fine while occasionally eyeing the man, who was ignoring their interaction. Finally, she patted El's head before leaving, causing his heart to flutter.
After waving his shy goodbye, the corner of El's mouth involuntarily lifted into a smile.
Suddenly, El's attention was drawn to something else.
He noticed a staff member at the eatery struggling to bring numerous package boxes in a large transparent plastic bag to the side of the restaurant.
Then, two children emerged from the shadows of the alleyway. El raised his eyebrows, not out of suspicion, but because the two children looked pale and sickly. They were a girl and a boy around his age. The boy with his fading red hair wore tattered clothes with many uneven stitches, while the girl with black hair wore a plain dark blue dress.
"Umm, excuse me, sir?" El said, pulling the man's attention away from his "oh-so-big feast."
The man took a swig of his beer, swallowing a mouthful of food, then wiped his mouth with his hand roughly, "… Yes, what's up, boy?"
"Is it normal for people living in the city to look like that?" El asked, discreetly pointing at the boy and girl, who were now happily opening the packages. It was food. They used plastic utensils to eat on the spot.
El noticed a female staff member hurriedly taking chairs from an empty table and asking them to sit, but the two hardly complied. After much persuasion and faint angry noises, they reluctantly sat down. The guests, whether inside or outside, weren't even bothered, as if it were a common occurrence.
The man turned his head over his shoulder to where El pointed, and shortly turned back to El.
"You mean them?" He cleaned his teeth using his tongue.
"Yes," El replied.
Still holding his fork, the man explained, "They are people from the underside…"
"Underside? What do you mean? Are they living under the city? In the underground?" El was curious about the topic.
"Yeah, you could say so."
Frowning, El pressed on. It seemed the meaning behind the man's words was vaguely bad to him. "You didn't tell me the whole truth. I'm sure of it. Please tell me what you mean by 'people from the underside,' sir?"
The man raised his eyebrows and eventually sighed to reply.
"… Things happen. Some families fall out of favor. Their children—descendants—are the ones who pay the full price," he paused for a few seconds before continuing, "They are also called 'rodents.' People who were purposely neglected by the whole empire, just like rats on the street."
"… You mean they are just like me and the villagers?"
"Hmmmm. Hypothetically, yes. It's like… if the village you lived in before is ranked as number three, the worst place to live in all of Threa, then the underside is number four on that list."
"… What are the number one and two then?"
For a whole minute, they engaged in a staring contest until El couldn't hold it any longer.
"You won't tell me, will you?"
"Yes. If you want to know more, you know the rows of books in the room where you sleep, right? Read them all. You'll gain a basic understanding of the history of the empire we're currently in."
Shrugging his shoulders, El replied, "Alright then…"
"How long until you finally finish your meal, sir?" El pulled back to the matter at hand. It had been close to two hours since the man started eating; the plates at his side had already stacked high.
"Calm down, boy. Let me tell you something. As someone who has lived much longer than you, I'll give you advice—a worthy piece of advice! You need to always enjoy your food, no matter how long it takes, especially if you're going to become an adult like me. That… is the basis of how you're going to enjoy life, you hear me?"
El absentmindedly nodded his head, only half-listening. His attention returned to the two children. The earlier female staff member was back to work.
A few moments later, five more children came close and proceeded to take the packaged food that had been placed on the table.
They ate it with relish. One of the children looked small and fragile, but still bore the same sickly appearance as the others—gaunt cheeks and dark circles under their eyes, reminding El of his sleepless nights, not only from mosquitoes but also from the two elders who had initially sheltered him.
Recalling those past days filled with fatigue, hunger, thirst, and danger, El began to feel hungry again, even though his stomach felt like it was going to burst from how much he had already eaten.
The first girl with black hair unexpectedly turned her gaze to El.
Their eyes locked for a few seconds until she nudged the staid boy beside her. The trio exchanged glances, observing and evaluating one another.
It all ended when El caught a sneer from the boy, who subsequently turned his face away. The girl followed suit, but without a sneer.
At last, after finishing his last bite, the man smacked his lips in satisfaction.
Done with paying the bill, he left with El, who couldn't help but steal one last glance at the "kids from the underside."
Their eyes met again—El's emerald eyes locking with the girl's and the boy's.
While the girl looked impassive, the boy sneered at him once more for no apparent reason before looking away.
'What did that even mean?' El tilted his head to the side, genuinely confused. He tried to mimic the boy's sneer and then showed it to the man while they walked down the street.
"Sir, sir. What does this mean?" El asked, his mouth awkwardly attempting to form a sneer.
"What the… What are you trying to do? Don't tell me you're sick?"
"Who's sick? I'm not…"
"Then don't do it. There's this disease called stroke."
"Stroke?"
"Yes. One of the late symptoms looks exactly like what you just did."
"Symptoms? What are symptoms?"
"Symptoms are… something you did earlier."
"What did I do? What do you mean exactly?"
"It means… ummm, it means being dumb…"
"What? Dumb? I'm not dumb," El retorted. His voice was sharp with disapproval. Being hailed as the brightest mind in his village was something he took pride in, a reputation he'd never once questioned.
"What you did earlier was dumb," the man countered with a sidelong glance, couldn't care less about hurting his feelings.
El's mouth formed an "O," and added inside his head, 'Oh, it means that boy is being dumb, then. Such a pity…'
"I see. I'm actually not being dumb. I was just mimicking someone from that restaurant," El reasoned.
"Then don't do it if you don't want to be called dumb. The dumb label isn't very appealing these days."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing."
"Sir, I have to say this: it seems you really like to leave your words halfway or say things in riddles."
"Am I? I always finish things, though."
"Huh???"
"Nothing…"
"Right…" El rolled his eyes. "By the way, where are we heading now?"
"Where? To the area where there's street food, of course…" The man replied with a grin.
"Street food? You mean we're eating again?"
El gawked. After devouring those monstrous portions earlier, he never imagined he'd have room for more. In fact, he couldn't recall a time in his life when he'd eaten so much in one sitting.
Yet, strangely enough, the previous meal seemed to be effortlessly absorbed. Could it be some kind of extraordinary ability? A hint, perhaps, that he was destined for something great… like a superhero in the only worn-out comic they had in the village that was readable?
"Of course. A little walk to stretch the legs, and then we eat again. You, especially, need to eat a lot so you can grow big, strong, and tall like me," the man declared, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride.
"Oh, umm… okay then. It's… still free, right?" El asked cautiously.
"Relax," the man said, pounding his chest twice with his palm for emphasis. "Your sir here has plenty of money. Leave it to me."
The two spent the afternoon together, roaming the lively streets and savoring a variety of street foods.
The smoky aroma of grilled skewers, the sizzle of frying oil, and the sweet scent of desserts filled the air, creating a feast for the senses. El couldn't help but smile as he followed the man, his stomach—and his heart—feeling strangely full.
At one point, El stood frozen, his gaze locked on the harmonious scene before him: a young mother holding her son's arm, sharing an ice cream in a quiet bliss.
Moments later, the father playfully tapped the mother's shoulder, eliciting a startled flinch followed by laughter as the couple engaged in cheerful bickering.
Meanwhile, their son seemed detached from their lively antics, his attention darting left and right like a restless bird. The subtle tension in his expression made it clear—if not for his mother's firm yet gentle grip on his hand, he would have bolted to explore the bustling market by now.
El understood his feeling well; he could sense the child's desire to run around the market, away from his parents.
He didn't know why, but the sight of that joyful family was actually painful for him. It felt like a sucker punch to his gut―a wistful throb in his chest.
His thoughts were interrupted by a firm tap on his shoulder.
"Hey, kid. Here, try this. It's called ice cream—trust me, it's amazing," the deep voice said, paired with an enormous hand offering a cone.
"Oh… uh, thanks," El muttered, still dazed. He tilted his head back to meet the man's intimidating figure, towering over him.
Two kids were already in tears, scampering away just from seeing him on this street. For El, mayhap it was his presence that was too imposing.
"What's wrong? Is something on my face?" the man asked. He ran his hand over his features, searching for rogue crumbs.
"No, you just… look cool." El blurted out awkwardly, unsure why he'd said it, blurting the first thing that came to his mind.
It was a phrase he'd heard before—a young mercenary who visited his village had once said it to his comrade, a figure the latter admired. Unknowingly, El had adopted it as his own.
"Ha! Cool, huh? That's a good one. Too bad you didn't know me when I was younger—I was practically legendary back then," the man replied with a chuckle, his gaze distant as if recalling better days.
"Uh-huh…" El swiftly lost interest as the man slid into storytelling mode. It didn't take long to realize one defining trait about him.
And that was…
'He brags a lot,' El thought. Even so, his eyes curved, not only from the delectable sweetness of the ice cream or it being free, but partly because of the man himself. El stole glances at him and secretly smiled.
'Is this what it feels like… to have a father?' El wondered. The thought lingered, warm and poignant. 'It's not bad. Not bad at all.'
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