The Villain Who Invests in a Witch to Survive Chapter 3 : Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Cosette

The sunlight outside the alley was a little glaring, and the noise of the main street wrapped around them once more. Ryan walked in front, his brows unconsciously drawn together slightly. His boots stepped onto the much cleaner stone road as he headed naturally for the inn where he was staying, but his pace was sowhat uneven.

That “Co with ” had practically slipped out of his mouth just now, and only now did the trouble of it truly sink in.

Was he really bringing her back with him?

A strange little girl?

What exactly was he doing?

He could not help glancing back from the corner of his eye. That small, thin figure was walking quietly a few steps behind him with her head lowered. Her footsteps were so light they were almost inaudible, like a wary stray cat that had no choice but to follow.

In the bright light, the gray sackcloth-like outfit she wore looked even more shabby, utterly out of place among the well-dressed pedestrians around them.

The irritation in Ryan’s heart rose again. What was wrong with this girl? He told her to follow him, and she simply followed? Did she have no sense of caution at all?

Or was it that… she had already reached such a dead end that she no longer cared who she followed, so long as she could find temporary shelter?

His thoughts ran wild, and he failed to notice that behind him, beneath Cosette’s lowered lashes, confusion and panic were churning in her hazel eyes as well.

Why… did I actually follow him?

Cosette stared at the boy’s shadow stretched long and short by the sunlight ahead of her, her mind in a tangled ss.

She had been born in this district and had struggled to survive here ever since. She had never known who her parents were. Every day, when she opened her eyes, all she thought about was where she could search for scraps fit to swallow, or, if luck was with her, whether she might pick up so small thing others did not care about and exchange it for half a black loaf of bread.

Being cornered by gamblers with bloodshot eyes, who wanted soone to vent their anger on, was not the first ti it had happened to her. It probably would not be the last.

Getting beaten hurt, but what troubled her more was that after being beaten, her whole body would ache too much for her to go looking for food. Then she would have to go hungry at night.

She had already curled up and prepared herself to endure the blows in silence. Once they got tired of hitting her and left, that would be the end of it.

But then this person had appeared.

He looked as though he belonged to an entirely different world from this filthy alley and those hateful gamblers. His clothes were of fine material, his face was clean, and his voice was cold and… a little strange. He drove those n away and had even wanted to give her money.

She had not dared take the money. That might have been even worse than getting beaten. What she had actually wanted was simply… a real piece of bread, if possible.

She had not expected that after a mont of silence, what he would say was, “Co with .”

And as if under so strange spell, she had followed him.

Why?

She did not know.

Perhaps it was because beneath the impatience that flashed through those gray-blue eyes, there was none of the murky malice she was used to seeing in grown n.

Perhaps it was because when he had stood in front of her just now, that back of his—though not broad—had sohow made her feel that… maybe she could lean on it a little.

Or perhaps it was only because behind the choice to “follow him,” there existed the faintest possibility of sothing different from her day-after-day struggle toward death.

But as she continued to follow him, the vague gratitude in her heart was gradually replaced by a more realistic kind of fear.

The road was getting cleaner and cleaner. The passersby were dressed more and more properly, and the shops on either side grew brighter and more polished.

Where was he taking her?

When Ryan stopped in front of a rather tidy two-story building made of wood and stone, Cosette’s heart suddenly sank.

An inn.

She recognized this kind of place by its sign.

Warm, clean, with soft beds and steaming food—luxuries she did not even dare fully picture in her dreams.

And also… places where certain dark stories happened.

She had heard older holess girls whispering tearfully about what happened after they were taken away by “kind people.”

Beneath her filthy little face, she instinctively lowered her head again, and her fingers clenched hard around the ragged cloth she wore.

She had spent years making herself filthy and grimy, like a dirty little stray cat, simply out of instinct—a way to avoid that kind of gaze, that kind of danger.

But now…

This person, the one who had saved her—could it be that he also…

A cold, numb thought rose within her.

Fine.

If he really wanted sothing… then at least, by following him, she should be able to eat her fill for a while.

At the very least, she would not have to sleep in a drafty corner again.

He looked like… he would at least make her wash her face.

Surely he would not want to do anything to soone with a face this filthy…

Just as her thoughts were spiraling into total chaos and she was almost unable to suppress the urge to turn and run, Ryan, who was walking in front, seed to hesitate for a mont before turning slightly and tipping his head toward her. His tone remained as stiff as ever.

“Keep up.”

Cosette’s body trembled. Her bare, dust-covered toes dragged against the ground for half a second, but in the end she still started walking again, following him through the overly bright and spotless inn entrance as though she were walking to an execution ground.

The air inside was warm and dry, carrying the faint scent of wood and cleaning solution. It was completely different from the muddy stench of the streets and alleys she knew so well.

The floor had been polished until it glead, reflecting vague shadows.

Behind the front desk, the chubby innkeeper—always looking half asleep—looked up. When he saw Ryan, he nodded out of habit. Then his gaze fell upon the outrageously filthy little figure behind him, and he clearly froze for a mont.

Ryan obviously noticed the innkeeper’s stare as well. His face remained expressionless as he stepped forward and tapped his fingers lightly on the smooth counter.

“Boss, please send another basin of hot water up to my room,” he said, his voice neither loud nor soft, but very clear. “Make it hotter.”

The innkeeper ca back to himself, uttering a couple of hurried acknowledgnts. His eyes swept over Cosette again, probably categorizing the scene before him as so young master’s montary act of “kindness,” or perhaps sothing else entirely. But in the end, he did not ask questions.

“Of course, of course. I’ll have it prepared right away.”

Ryan said nothing more and turned directly toward the staircase.

Cosette hurriedly lowered her head, avoiding the curious glances from the innkeeper and the occasional other guest. She trotted after him, sticking close behind, terrified of being abandoned in this unfamiliar, unsettlingly bright place.

The wooden stairs gave off faint but sturdy sounds beneath their feet.

When they reached the second floor, Ryan opened a door at the end of the corridor and stepped aside.

Standing at the doorway, Cosette looked into the room.

It was simple, yet astonishingly neat.

A bed covered in clean linen sheets. A wiped-down desk. A coat hanging on the wall…

Everything was worlds apart from the garbage piles and broken sheds where she had slept.

Her filthy little feet stood on the polished floor at the entrance, leaving behind an ugly patch of dirt, which only made her feel more at a loss. She barely dared step inside.

Ryan turned back to look at her. He seed as though he wanted to say sothing, then frowned, and in the end only said briefly, “Co in. Don’t stand in the doorway.”

As if startled, Cosette hurriedly rose onto her toes and edged her way inside as lightly as possible. Then she stood helplessly in the middle of the room, far away from the bed that looked far too soft and comfortable.

Her hands were clasped nervously behind her back, and her eyes were fixed on her own toes—where even more obvious gray marks were now being left on the carpet.

The room fell quiet.

Only the faint noise of the street drifted in from outside the window.

Ryan walked to the window and stood with his back to her, looking outside, as though he too was troubled by sothing. Cosette remained stiff and upright, her heart pounding wildly in her thin chest. Her mind was in complete chaos as she guessed at what might happen next, while desperately telling herself not to think about it.

Then ca the sound of sowhat heavy footsteps and the sloshing of a wooden tub, drawing closer until they stopped at the door.

It was an inn servant delivering a large basin of steaming hot water. It was set by the washstand in the corner of the room, with a towel that looked clean and soft draped beside it.

“The water is ready, sir,” the servant called through the door.

“Mm.” Ryan acknowledged him.

The servant’s footsteps soon receded.

Silence returned to the room once more. Only the white steam rising from the basin of hot water curled slowly through the air.

Ryan turned around. His gaze fell on the basin of hot water, then shifted to Cosette, who looked as though she wanted to shrink into herself entirely.

He was silent for a few seconds, as though organizing his words. Then he pointed at the basin and said,

“You. Clean yourself up first.”