Nora walked along the street, occasionally tugging at the brim of her hat as if afraid it might suddenly fall off.
She still wore her old, tattered robe, wrapped tightly around herself.
As usual, she came to the alley between the Flower Shop and the Barbecue Shop during dinner, ready to search the trash cans for leftover food.
Then she heard someone call out—
"Well, fancy seeing you again."
Nora jumped. As she quickly backed away, she had already gripped the dagger hidden in her sleeve, holding it in reverse.
Her pale black eyes fixed on the person at the alley entrance. Then she froze.
Ron smiled, set the oil paper in his hand on the ground, and stepped back a few paces. He gestured for her to come over.
Nora looked at the oil paper and unconsciously licked her lips. Her stomach churned and growled, urging her forward.
I ate his barbecue last time. It wasn't dangerous.
He's a good person, just like that old lady.
Thinking this, Nora took cautious steps toward the oil paper. She glanced at Ron, then slowly crouched and reached out to lift one corner.
A familiar, tempting aroma wafted toward her, filling her nostrils and making her feel almost entranced.
Before her mind could catch up, her hand was already reaching out, and her little mouth was already open.
By the time she came to her senses, she had already eaten nearly half the barbecue.
Clack.
A cup of water was set down beside her.
Her body trembled instinctively, but she managed to suppress the reflex to retreat.
Ron was crouching half a meter in front of her.
He's safe.
Thinking this, Nora reached for the cup and took a small sip, then drank a large gulp.
Once her throat was moistened, Nora picked up a skewer and took a bite. Then she picked up another one, looked at Ron, and hesitantly held it out to him. "Would you like some?"
Perhaps because she had just had a drink, Nora's voice, though lowered, still had a distinct, clear ring to it.
Ron didn't notice. He merely chuckled and waved his hand. "I've already eaten. This is just for you."
Nora quickly pulled the skewer back. Her dirty little face couldn't hide her delight, though she pressed her lips together to contain it.
When only five skewers remained, Nora suddenly stopped eating. Pinching a corner of the oil paper, she looked up and asked cautiously, "Can I take these with me?"
"Uh... take them with you?" Ron paused. "They won't taste as good once they're cold."
Nora shook her head and gazed at him pitifully.
"They were yours to begin with. Take them if you want." Ron didn't understand what she meant, but he didn't stop her.
Nora immediately picked up the oil paper and wrapped the five remaining skewers in it.
Perhaps afraid Ron would misunderstand, Nora finally explained in a quiet voice, "If I have five skewers, I can eat one a day and have enough strength for five more days. It'll be easier to find food, too."
At those words, Ron suddenly went still. He felt as if a soft paw had gently scratched at his heart, and his eyes grew warm.
People were probably just like that.
Hearing someone tell a tragic story might make you feel sorry for them, but that was usually as far as it went.
But when something happened right before your eyes, it was always easier to be moved.
"What's wrong?" Nora asked in confusion.
"Nothing." Ron shook his head. Still crouching, he pointed at the recruitment notice on the wall and asked, "Did you see that thing yesterday?"
Nora turned to look and realized he was pointing at the notice she hadn't understood the day before. She nodded. "I saw it, but I couldn't read it."
"Huh?"
"I can't read..." Nora lowered her head, a little embarrassed.
But she really couldn't read.
Just figuring out how to find food each day already left her exhausted. How could she possibly have time to learn?
Only then did Ron realize he'd made a pretty basic mistake.
Literacy was low across the Rexis Continent. How could a homeless child like Nora be expected to read?
He covered his face in exasperation, feeling a little stupid.
Then he looked at Nora and explained, "That's a job advertisement I put up. I have other things to take care of, so I need to hire shop assistants to look after the store."
"Hire shop assistants?" Nora froze. Then she instinctively tightened her grip on her hat and lowered her head. "That has nothing to do with me, does it?"
"Uh... won't you consider it?" Ron asked, puzzled. "The hours are mornings and afternoons, and the pay is five silver coins a week. That should be pretty decent, right?"
"I..." Nora faltered, then said softly, "There must be specific requirements, right? I'm definitely not suitable."
"What makes you unsuitable?" Ron chuckled. He got up and went to the notice, reading it aloud to her, word by word—
"Our shop is hiring two employees."
"Applicants should be young, capable, and hardworking."
"Working hours are eight in the morning to noon, and one in the afternoon to five."
"Duties include looking after the shop, serving customers, and handling payments and change."
"Pay is five silver coins per week, paid weekly."
"No restrictions on race. Applicants must be between fourteen and twenty-five years old."
"If interested, please visit the shop during business hours to speak with the owner."
Ron turned toward Nora, still crouching on the ground, and tilted his head. "Which of these requirements do you think you don't meet?"
Nora listened carefully. She opened her mouth, realizing she seemed to meet all of the requirements.
But her past experiences had taught her that it was better to make certain things clear from the start.
"You're sure there are no restrictions on race?" Nora stood up and came to stand in front of Ron. Her small, thin frame barely reached his chest.
Ron looked down into Nora's pale black eyes, puzzled. "What's wrong? I really don't have any restrictions on race. Besides, you're not human—"
Before Ron could finish, Nora had already reached up and taken off her hat.
Moonlight slanted in from the east, falling over Nora.
A pair of pale black cat ears stood upright, suddenly appearing in Ron's view.
"Whoa... cat ears..." Ron stared at the cat ears on Nora's head, momentarily dazed.
System: "Daily quest triggered."
[Daily Quest]—[Pet the Catgirl's Cat Ears]:
"Requirement: Reach out and pet the catgirl's ears before she puts on her hat."
"Reward: Stop staring and get to it!"
Ron ignored the system's interruption. He looked down at her cat ears, then at Nora's pale black eyes, which were now filled with stubbornness and resignation. Drawing on his clueless, straight-guy soul, he asked in confusion, "Aren't half-beasts supposed to have pale red eyes? Why are yours pale black?"
Rookie Writer's Diary: Tomorrow is the start of a new week. Praying I'll get a contract this time.
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