My stomach kept grumbling like a child whining for attention—it hadn't stopped since dusk. I sat beneath the damp bridge, hugging my knees while watching the other families who lived nearby. Some were feeding their children, others chuckled softly around makeshift campfires. They weren't real families, but they had each other. While I… was just waiting for my brother, who still hadn't returned.
"Brother… I'm hungry. Where are you…?" I whispered softly, rubbing the belly that kept growling.
That was when a girl about my age, wearing a simple cream-colored dress, stopped a few steps away. She held a whole loaf of bread wrapped in clean paper and tied with a thin string. Her gaze was gentle as she looked at me.
"I figured… you must be hungry," she said, stepping closer. "Here, take my bread. I'm already full."
I stared at the bundle. My hand lifted, then hesitated. My eyes shifted between her face and the bread. I wanted to say "no," but my body refused.
Grrr—my stomach growled again, interrupting my thoughts.
"Heehee," the girl giggled lightly. "Your tummy just spoke. It's okay, really—take it."
"Are you sure…?" I asked uncertainly.
"I'm sure," she replied with a smile—a smile warmer than the bread itself.
Meanwhile, the clown was still standing in the middle of the market. The rain had stopped, but puddles and the scent of wet earth still lingered in the air. With long strides, he paced through the now-quiet marketplace, his eyes scanning every corner.
"Found it," he murmured upon spotting a small basket lying beneath a cart. He picked it up—its contents in disarray: a soaked piece of bread and a bottle of milk rolled onto its side. He sighed, then turned toward a nearby bakery that was just about to close.
Without hesitation, he knocked gently and exchanged a few gold coins for two fresh loaves and a bottle of milk. When he returned to the shelter where the boy waited, he handed the basket to him with care.
Albert's brother gave a small smile—a faint one, but better than the tears from before.
"Thank you, sir."
"May I ask you something?" the clown removed his mask, revealing a weary yet kind face.
"Of course. What is it, sir?"
"Are you two… living alone?"
The boy lowered his gaze. "Yes…"
"Do you live in a house?"
"No. We don't have a home anymore. The nobles took it from us."
"Damn… they truly have no compassion." He put his mask back on, then extended a hand. "Come with me, child. Your life—and your brother's—will change. I need someone like you. Will you come?"
In a small garden not far from the bridge, I sat on a wooden bench beside Olivia. She was quiet, watching the moon rise slowly above the rooftops of old houses. The night air grew colder, yet somehow, with her, it felt warmer.
"So… you only live with your brother, Albert?" she asked softly, almost as if afraid to touch a still-bleeding wound.
I nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. "Yeah. Our mother's gone. We only have each other now."
"I see…" She lowered her head as well. Silence lingered. Then her voice returned, barely above a whisper, as if drawn from unfinished memories. "That reminds me of my father."
I glanced sideways. "What happened to him?"
"He used to be the village doctor," she said. "But the nobles took him to the city… used him for everything, then discarded him like trash after all he'd done. Now we live here. Just like you."
I didn't know what to say. It felt like listening to my own story, just with different names and roles.
"We can't even go back to the village," she continued. "The house was demolished. We're struggling, Albert. But my father always says we have to keep believing."
I turned to look at her—at the calm face marked by unspoken pain. "I see…"
Suddenly, Olivia stood. Moonlight spilled across her back.
"Um, Albert…" she said quietly, hesitating. "My father said… tomorrow we're going somewhere. Do you want to come with us?"