What's In It For Me?
Eyes as cold as the rain sheeting down upon his face swept over the child. Joshua shook off the boy's hand. It was only a light flick of the wrist, but for a small, already frightened child with no strength to spare, it was more than enough to send him staggering.
The coachman caught the boy with one hand before he could fall, looking rather startled himself — he had never imagined his master would do such a thing. When the dirt on the child's fingers smeared his sleeve, Joshua's brow furrowed in displeasure.
"Why would I do that?"
"......"
"I asked why I should help you. A stranger I've never laid eyes on before today. Why? Can you think of a single reason? Because I can't."
"That's—!"
Joshua spoke as he folded back his dirtied sleeve. "What do I stand to gain by helping you? Tell me."
The moment those frigid eyes swept over him, the boy flinched and trembled. Only days ago, his mother had been perfectly well — sitting up, smiling at him, holding him, talking with him. Then suddenly she was bedridden.
They had called a physician at once. The diagnosis: a simple cold — dangerous, though, if the fever wouldn't break. Harry had begged him to do something more, but the physician showed no mercy for a boy's desperate circumstances. The moment he learned there was no more money to be had, he muttered something about an appointment and vanished.
Harry had tried to summon another, but it was as though word had spread in an instant — no one would come near their house. And with what little money remained now gone entirely, Harry despaired. He would have to ask someone else for help.
But who? Who could he possibly turn to? And just then, a single face flashed through Harry's mind. His mother's one and only pupil — the pretty young lady they called the Grand Duchess Prihoson. Eleanor. Yes! He would ask Lady Eleanor for help. Mother had said she was a person of great standing.
Harry was certain of it. If anyone would help him, Eleanor would. But where would he have to go to find her? He had gone out alone before to visit friends living nearby, but he had never once left the house for any other reason, and Harry hesitated for a long while.
The moment he saw his mother struggling for breath, however, all that hesitation evaporated. Right. Just go, and think on the way. With that one thought driving him, Harry slipped out of the house behind his nurse's back and into the storm. The rain lashed at him with full force, but he didn't care. Without even a coachman at his side he must have looked pitiful, but that was all right too.
Gripping his wind-tossed umbrella with both hands, he pressed forward one step at a time. As he turned into the familiar alley, the wind rose even fiercer, and he found himself swaying this way and that, unable to keep his footing — the umbrella he could barely hold threatening to fly off with him. Still, Harry held on with all his might.
And that was the moment.
Huh?!
The wind tore the umbrella from his hands and sent it tumbling into the distance, crumpled like paper. He froze in shock, then started moving again. The rain was pounding down from every direction; even with the umbrella he'd been soaked through, but only once it was gone did he truly understand — having one was far better than not.
Who knew how many times he'd rolled through muddy puddles chasing the thing that wouldn't be caught. He glared after the flapping umbrella through gritted teeth, picked himself up off the ground, and started running again — and that was when he nearly been run down by a carriage.
"What do I stand to gain by helping you? Tell me."
"......"
He was only asking for help for a sick person. Did even that need a reason? Young as he was, Harry simply could not understand. His mother had always told him that if someone needed help, you helped them.
He had asked for help because he needed it — how could this be the answer he received back? Or was this simply how the world worked? The sting on his scraped hand, the chill soaking through his wet clothes — he had forgotten them all. And though one would never guess he had been on the verge of tears, a dangerous light now hardened in Harry's eyes.
The coachman fidgeted unelessly while Joshua looked down at the boy without a shred of interest. The rain kept falling.
"I-if you just walk away and don't help a child, I s'pose your conscience stays per-perfectly clear, doesn't it?"
For all the venom in his words, Harry's small body wouldn't stop trembling. Joshua paid the child's fragility no more heed than before.
"So, I should help you for the sake of my peace of mind, then?"
"Yes!"
"Well, what a shame. I don't think it would trouble me at all."
"......"
Cruel. The words were so cruel that tears welled up in Harry's eyes.
"If that's your only reason, then I suppose I can't help you after all."
Joshua turned away without the slightest hint of regret and began to walk. The coachman, after a moment's hesitation, had no choice but to hurry after him, holding the umbrella over his master's head. Harry clenched his fists. No. He couldn't let this happen!
"Th-then! Just take me to the Grand Duchy of Prihoson! Surely you can do that much! I won't ask for anything more!"
At the desperate plea, Joshua's steps stopped. Harry did not let that moment slip away.
"You only have to let me off in front of the Grand Duke's residence! After that I can manage on my own! Okay?"
"Where did you say, just now? The Grand Duchy of Prihoson?"
As Joshua turned his head, a flicker of curiosity crossed his eyes.
"Yes!"
"Are you certain?"
"Yes! Of course! My mother's one and only pupil is the Grand Duchess!"
Harry nodded his head vigorously at the sight of Joshua taking an interest. Perhaps the appeal had been convincing enough — Joshua turned and came back toward the boy. And in the same motion, he plucked the umbrella straight out of the coachman's hand and held it over Harry's head.
Unable to fathom this sudden change of heart, Harry narrowed his eyes — and Joshua, crouching down to meet the boy at eye level, made him flinch backward. It was only natural. For the very first time, expressionless Joshua curled his lips upward into a smile.
"Well, you've asked so earnestly. I suppose I'll have to help."
"......Thank you."
"So then — how exactly should I go about helping you?"
With a smile more brilliant than any Harry had ever seen, Joshua lifted the boy effortlessly with one hand, caring nothing for his own fine clothes.
"For now, I'll send a servant ahead to the Grand Duchy."
Joshua spoke to Harry in a tone so warm one would never guess how coldly he had acted moments before. Startled by this abrupt transformation, Harry shrank into himself.
Weren't you just saying you couldn't care less?
Ebben cleared the room of everyone and shut the door behind them. He would not even grant Harry's pleading request to stay by his mother's side; shaking his head in firm refusal, he bolted the door fast.
With Harry — who had sobbed himself into exhaustion — carried on her back, the wet nurse slipped quickly away. The three who remained stood quietly outside the room. Hin, watching Joshua where he leaned against the wall beside the door with eyes full of wariness, whispered to Eleanor.
"My lady. Don't tell me that man is... him?"
Eleanor neither confirmed nor denied it. Seeing her silence, Hin took it as confirmation of her suspicion and studied Joshua with searching eyes. The second son of Baron Herais, known to her only by rumor, looked outwardly lacking in nothing. Yet somehow, Hin could not shake the premonition that he was not a good man.
Joshua, who had been observing the two of them in much the same fashion, turned his gaze to Eleanor. Those green eyes, which had been sizing her up, soon came to rest on a single point. Water droplets were falling from her rain-drenched clothes to the floor, and her hair — no doubt once bound neatly — hung loose and disheveled about her shoulders. Joshua's gaze drifted slowly downward, until at last it settled on the droplets clinging to the tip of Eleanor's chin.
He strode over to her and stared straight into her startled blue eyes. Reaching out, he brushed the water from her chin with his index finger. Smack! Eleanor's hand came up and knocked his away. Hin cried out in alarm.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
"......"
Hin, more startled than either party, sprang forward to place herself in front of Eleanor, while Eleanor herself — her brief fluster at the unexpected contact giving way to an icy glare — fixed her gaze coldly on Joshua.
To Joshua, that stare felt like one might give a lifeless object. Eleanor, for her part, wiped roughly at her chin with her sleeve — the very spot his fingertip had grazed — quite deliberately for him to see. Joshua gave her a sidelong glance, then flicked his wet finger lightly to shake off the moisture.
Only Hin, caught between the two of them, worked herself into an uproar; the pair themselves were far calmer than the situation called for. Swallowing her anger, Eleanor looked at Joshua with glacial composure and spoke.
"It would have been better to simply tell me, rather than act on it. Kindly be more careful in the future."
"My apologies. My hand moved before I knew it."
At the sight of Joshua waving his hand so breezily, Hin's eyes went wide — she clearly had no intention of letting it pass.
"My lady! Still, that—!"
"Hin. Calm yourself. He did help us, after all."
After all? There was something about that subtly condescending tone. Joshua sneered inwardly. He thought to himself that the oddly unpleasant feeling crawling over him could not simply be chalked up to imagination.