Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Being able to use purifier in wash water was an unimaginable luxury when most couldn’t even purify their drinking water. The boy had just drunk insufficiently purified water himself. As he took in the girl, every detail radiating an affluence he’d never known, his gaze faltered.
A strange feeling began to bloom within him. The kitchen was bright. Arietta could clearly see the shift in the boy’s expression, from surprise to something else. His lips pressed together in a thin line.
He furrowed his brow and avoided her gaze. His neck and ears flushed crimson. His hands, clenched tightly around the bag straps, now trembled, knuckles white.
Raw shame. Witnessing that expression, Arietta felt a jolt that shook her eight years of life.
‘What is that look?’
She wanted to study the ashamed boy more closely. She had never seen anyone with such an expression. Most people in Downstream didn’t know shame. Too busy fighting for survival, how could they?
But this boy, living at the very bottom, knew shame. Impulse propelled her forward. Arietta practically ran to the boy, cupping his cheeks in her soft hands. Forced to meet her gaze, his shame deepened into something like despair.
His eyes were dark, like a canvas splashed with too many colors. Yet, his emotions were so transparent. His cheeks burned against her hands, his heat transferring quickly to her cool skin. Arietta’s calm grey eyes began to flicker like a kindled flame.
“Who are you? Where did you come from?”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his humiliated expression. Her heart pounded. Arietta widened her eyes, trying to absorb every nuance of his face.
“What’s your name? Hmm? What should I call you?” Arietta pressed, her questions tumbling out. The boy, shrinking back, assumed she was about to accuse and berate him for stealing.
His lips trembled as he looked at her. The contrast between his own wretched appearance and the doll-like perfection of the girl only intensified his humiliation.
“Eek!” The boy pushed off the balls of his feet, lowering his body. He intended to knock her over and run. But it didn’t go as planned. Arietta anticipated his clumsy move and sidestepped to the left.
That simple action completely threw him off balance. His weight shifted forward. The oversized bag, a burden even for his small frame, became his downfall. The strap twisted, tangling his feet.
He crashed to the floor in an undignified heap. The purifier and food he’d pilfered spilled from the open bag, scattering across the floor. Sprawled on the floor, the boy groaned, momentarily stunned by the impact. But he couldn’t stay down. He pushed himself up shakily, hands on the ground.
He tried to flee, but Arietta grabbed his bag. When he tried to wriggle free, she grabbed his hand.
Caught.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut, convinced he was doomed. But then, the situation took a bizarre turn. Arietta began picking up the scattered items and putting them back into his bag.
He stared, dumbfounded, as she gathered everything and, with a bright, pretty smile, said,
“You can have all of this. And come back again.”
“What?” The boy frowned.
This girl, offering a thief food and purifier and even inviting him back, had to be crazy.
“I’m giving this to you,” Arietta said, emphasizing her generosity. The charitable gesture twisted something inside the boy, the boy who knew shame.
His embarrassment fueled a sudden surge of anger. His breath hitched, and sparks of fury ignited in his dark eyes. He ripped the bag from her grasp, sending the items she had carefully replaced tumbling back onto the floor. He raised his arm.
Smack!
A stinging slap landed hard on Arietta’s cheek.
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