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032 Small Little Things
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 15:17:10 +0000 UTCThe Boss stood at the center of the tent, overseeing the food distribution with effortless command. A blue mask concealed the upper half of her face, hiding the color of her eyes. Her long black hair, tied in a loose ponytail, framed her face with a few stray strands. She was not tall, nor did she exude raw intimidation, yet the way she carried herself—calm, measured, authoritative—left no room for disorder.
She moved with practiced ease, ladling out bowls of porridge in steady rhythm. Each person stepped forward, accepted their share, and moved along without complaint. No jostling, no arguments, no chaos. It was an orderliness that felt almost unnatural.
I had seen charity drives back on Earth—volunteers struggling to control desperate crowds, people pushing to the front, snatching more than their share. But here? It was peaceful. Disciplined.
Lin Lim. That was what the others called her.
I scooped another portion into a bowl, glancing at the contents: simple rice porridge with slivers of dried meat and vegetables. A humble meal, yet in a place like this, it was survival itself.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar figure.
Yu Tai.
The boy had slipped forward, bowl outstretched. His face was carefully neutral, but the flicker of hesitation in his eyes betrayed him the moment he noticed me. To him, I must have seemed like an imposing figure, a warrior too dangerous to trifle with.
I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice. “Where is it?”
Yu Tai tensed. “W-what?”
“Everything you stole.”
His fingers tightened around the bowl. “Why?”
I held his gaze. “Because it wasn’t yours to take.”
“What does it matter?” His lips curled into a scowl. “You said we don’t need to pay, but it’s alie, isn’t it? Those at the top always demand tribute!”
I arched a brow. “Tribute? That’s what you call stealing now?”
His glare sharpened. “Call it whatever you want. It’s the same in the end. The strong take from the weak. The weak take from the weaker. That’s just how the world works.”
A bitter philosophy, but not an unfamiliar one. The raggedness of his clothes, the stubborn set of his shoulders—this was no mere pickpocket. He was a child shaped by hardship, someone who had spent too long at the mercy of fate’s cruelty.
And fate had rarely been kind.
The murmurs around us faded into silence. I glanced around—children, teenagers, even a few adults had turned their attention toward us. Some were curious. Others wary. A few bore the weary expressions of those who had seen this play out before.
Then, a calm voice cut through the tension.
“What seems to be the issue here?”
Boss Lin Lim approached, her blue mask concealing her expression, making her unreadable. Yet, her presence alone was enough to still the restless air. She moved with the effortless grace of someone accustomed to command, her sharp eyes shifting between Yu Tai and me.
I exhaled and gestured toward the boy. “Your little troublemaker has a habit of taking what isn’t his.”
Yu Tai stiffened but did not deny it. His jaw tightened, fingers clenching around the bowl as if bracing for a storm.
Lin Lim regarded him for a moment before letting out a quiet breath. “Is that true, Yu Tai?”
The boy hesitated. His gaze flickered toward the watching crowd. There was something in his eyes—pride, perhaps, or defiance. But in the end, he merely clicked his tongue and looked away.
The silence stretched. The weight of so many eyes settled upon him.
Then, the murmurs began.
“He got caught, huh?”
“Well, he’s always been reckless.”
“Figures. But what’s she gonna do about it?”
“She won’t be too harsh. He’s still one of us.”
Yu Tai shifted, unease creeping into his stance. Lin Lim must have noticed as well, for she spoke before the whispers could fester into something worse.
“I know many of you come from different places,” she said, her voice steady, measured—not loud, but carrying an undeniable weight. “Different cities. Different streets. Different struggles. But under this tent, we live the same lives.”
The murmurs died.
Lin Lim turned back to Yu Tai. “What did you take?”
The boy’s shoulders slumped. He glanced at me, then at the expectant crowd, before finally exhaling in resignation. Reaching into his ragged clothes, he pulled out a small pouch and dropped it into Lin Lim’s waiting hand.
She opened it, glanced inside, then… returned it to him.
I had no idea why.
Lin Lim’s voice remained firm, steady as a mountain. “Under my tent, no one will steal, no one will harm, no one will take from their own. We survive together, not at each other’s expense. That is the rule.”
Yu Tai clenched his fists but held his tongue. The defiance in his eyes wavered, but pride kept him silent.
Before the moment could stretch further, the tent’s entrance was pulled aside, and a young man stepped in. His robes were immaculate, the silk smooth and unblemished, a stark contrast to the worn fabrics of those gathered here. His every movement spoke of careful upbringing, of a life untouched by hunger or hardship. His gaze swept the room, barely lingering on the gathered crowd before settling on Lin Lim.
“Lin Lim,” he called, his tone direct, assured. “How’s everyone doing?”
She inclined her head, offering neither deference nor warmth. Without another word, she turned and strode toward him, leaving the rest of us in silence.
I exhaled slowly, turning back to my task. The rhythm of ladling porridge into bowls gave me an excuse to listen, to observe. As I struck up casual conversations, the picture grew clearer.
These people were not from Yellow Dragon City. Most hailed from smaller, struggling towns, places where wealth was a distant rumor. Yet, year after year, they braved the journey here.
“Why go through all that trouble?” I asked.
A grizzled man chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know? Wait a minute… are you new?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, what do you think?” I injected a bit of sarcasm to my tome.
“The seventh day of the festival,” he said. “The Grand Feast. It’s tradition. No matter who you are, no matter where you come from—on that day, you eat like a noble here. No questions asked.”
I faltered.
All this effort… just for a single meal?
My first instinct was disbelief, but then I remembered the festival itinerary. The Grand Feast. I had skimmed over it, dismissed it as just another event. I hadn’t realized what it meant.
I had been looking down on them.
Not intentionally. But deep down, I had carried the assumption that because I came from a world of the 21st century, I was better. That my knowledge, my experiences, my way of life—were superior.
But these people were not primitive. They were not ignorant.
They were surviving.
If I didn’t have my power and riches, I could have been them too.
I let out a slow breath, the weight of my thoughts settling in. I had spent enough time here. With a mental command, I canceled Divine Possession, and my consciousness snapped back to my main body.
I should probably put in a good word for them with Ren Jin. Maybe he could—
And then I saw them.
Jia Yun and Fan Shi lay sprawled on the ground, battered and dazed, like two puppies who had just lost a fight to a much bigger dog.
What the hell happened?
I blinked. My fingers curled around something. A... tree branch?
A very familiar tree branch.
A picture formed in my head—David_69, my self-proclaimed holy spirit, swinging the branch like a righteous instrument of divine judgment.
I opened Voice Chat.
“What were you doing with them?”
David_69’s voice rang in my mind, ever pious. “Showing them a good time.”
I rubbed my temples. “…And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?”
“I asked them what they wished to do for fun.” His tone was perfectly righteous. “Both requested guidance. I obliged.”
I looked at Jia Yun and Fan Shi again.
Alright. That… made sense. Sort of.
Note to self: My holy spirit, which had somehow gained sentience, was basically a child. Do not give him too much responsibility.
Back in Lost Legends Online, holy spirits were an oddity. They existed in an astral state, untouched by magic or mortality. Neither ghosts nor divine messengers, they were beings of pure faith, embodying concepts rather than flesh.
In the game, they were revered as saints.
I wasn’t sure if David_69 lived up to that reputation.
Jia Yun and Fan Shi groaned as they pushed themselves up, instinctively supporting each other. It wasn’t conscious, nor was it particularly friendly, but it was… something.
A bond? No, not quite.
Rivals.
Jia Yun wobbled slightly, her chibi-sized form making the movement almost comical. “This Jia Yun acknowledges the vast difference in—” She caught herself, barely stopping before slipping into first-person speech.
Fan Shi dusted off her tiny sleeves, exhaling. “If possible, we wish to challenge you again, Senior.”
I blinked.
Ah. So that was how it was.
They had stopped holding grudges.
Now, they were united—against a common enemy.
Me.
Excellent work, David_69.
Jia Yun and Fan Shi steadied themselves, determination burning in their chibi-sized eyes. The way they leaned on each other, despite their exhaustion, made me think—maybe their rivalry wasn’t so bad. At least now, they weren’t avoiding each other.
I smiled. An idea formed in my mind, equal parts stupid and brilliant.
I opened Voice Chat—which, at this point, was basically Qi Speech, cultivator-style.
First, I addressed Fan Shi. “I have a test for you. Your goal is to make Jia Yun laugh. But you must not laugh yourself. The first one who laughs loses and won’t get to spar with me.”
Then, I turned to Jia Yun and gave her the same instructions with Voice Chat.
“Jia Yun,” I softly told her what needed to be done. “I have a test for you. Make Fan Shi laugh and you must not laugh yourself. The first one who laughs loses and won’t get to spar with me.”
The two exchanged a sharp look.
A silent agreement passed between them.
I could almost hear the sparks crackling in the air as they braced for battle—not with swords or fists, but with sheer willpower.
Su-ba-ra-shi.
I stretched lazily. “Let’s go enjoy the festival before our chibi forms run out,” I said, as if I hadn’t just thrown them into a ridiculous contest.
That day, I rediscovered a part of myself.
The little troll inside me.
…Not that I had ever truly lost it.
Hahaha.
