Nora walked along the street, tugging at the brim of her hat from time to time, as if afraid it might fall off suddenly.
She was still wrapped in the same tattered robe, her body tightly concealed beneath the layers.
As usual, she came to the alley between the flower shop and the barbecue shop around dinnertime, ready to rummage through the trash bins for leftover food.
But then, a voice called out—
"Yo, we meet again."
Startled, Nora instantly stepped back. At the same time, her hand slipped into her sleeve and gripped the dagger hidden inside, holding it in a reverse grip.
Her dark eyes locked onto the figure at the alley's entrance—and then she froze.
It was Ron, smiling as he crouched down and placed a packet of oiled paper on the ground. He took a few steps back and gestured, inviting her over.
Nora glanced at the oiled paper, instinctively licking her lips. Her stomach roared with hunger, urging her forward.
"I've eaten his barbecue before—there was no danger."
"He's like that kind old lady… a good person."
That's what Nora told herself as she cautiously stepped forward, one careful foot at a time. She reached the oiled packet, glanced at Ron, and then slowly crouched down, lifting one corner of the paper.
The familiar, rich aroma rushed into her nose, instantly overwhelming her senses and making her head spin slightly.
Before her mind could process what was happening, her hand had already moved, and her small mouth had opened.
By the time she came back to her senses, she had already devoured nearly half the skewers.
Plunk.
A cup of water was placed beside her.
Nora flinched instinctively, but she fought off the urge to retreat.
Ron was squatting barely half a meter in front of her.
"He's safe."
That's what Nora told herself.
She reached for the cup, took a cautious sip, then a long gulp, her parched throat instantly soothed. Then she picked up another skewer, took a bite, and after a moment's hesitation, picked up one more, held it out toward Ron, and asked softly, "Do you want one?"
Perhaps it was because she had just drunk some water, but although she lowered her voice, there was still a noticeable clarity and crispness to it.
Ron didn't catch that detail. He just chuckled and waved it off. "I've already eaten. That's all for you."
Nora quickly pulled the skewer back. Her dirty little face lit up with joy, though she tried hard to suppress it by pressing her lips together.
When only five skewers remained, Nora suddenly stopped. She lifted the edge of the oiled paper, looked up at Ron, and carefully asked, "Um… can I take the rest with me?"
"Huh? Take them?" Ron blinked. "They won't taste good once they're cold, though."
Nora shook her head, giving him a pitiful look.
"It's meant for you anyway," Ron said, still not sure what she meant. "If you want to take it, go ahead."
Nora immediately bundled up the remaining skewers in the oiled paper.
Maybe afraid Ron would misunderstand, she quietly added, "If I eat one skewer a day, I'll have energy for five more days. Makes finding food a bit easier."
Hearing that, Ron froze. It felt like something soft and clawed had scratched at his heart. His eyes went a little warm.
That's just how people are.
When you hear about tragic stories secondhand, you might feel a little sympathy—but it usually ends there.
But when it happens right in front of you, it hits different.
"You okay?" Nora asked, puzzled.
"I'm fine." Ron shook his head, still crouching. He pointed at the recruitment notice posted on the wall. "Did you see that yesterday?"
Nora turned and saw that he was referring to the paper she had seen but hadn't understood. She nodded. "I saw it… But I couldn't read it."
"Huh?"
"I… can't read…" Nora looked down, a little embarrassed.
But it was true.
Every day, just surviving and finding food was exhausting enough—how could she possibly find the time to learn to read?
Only now did Ron realize he'd made a dumb mistake.
Literacy rates across Rixis Continent were low to begin with, especially for stray kids like Nora. How could she possibly know how to read?
He sighed and covered his face, feeling kind of stupid.
Then he looked at Nora and explained, "That's a job posting I put up. I've got other things to take care of, so I'm looking for someone to help manage the flower shop."
"Job posting?" Nora froze, then instinctively tightened the hat on her head. She looked down. "That has nothing to do with me… right?"
"Why not?" Ron asked. "Work hours are mornings and afternoons, and the pay is five silver coins a week. Not bad, right?"
"I…" Nora hesitated, then mumbled, "There must be requirements, right? I probably don't qualify."
"What wouldn't you qualify for?" Ron chuckled, then stood up and walked over to the posting. He read it aloud, line by line:
"This shop is looking to hire two employees."
"Requirements: Young, capable, and hardworking."
"Work hours: 8 a.m. to 12 p.m., 1 p.m. to 5 p.m."
"Responsibilities: Managing the shop, greeting customers, handling payments, and making change."
"Pay: 5 silver coins per week, paid weekly."
"No racial restrictions. Applicants must be between 14 and 25 years old."
"Interested parties, please apply in person during shop hours."
Ron turned to look at Nora, still crouched on the ground, and tilted his head. "So, which part don't you meet?"
Nora listened carefully. She opened her mouth but found that… she actually met all the requirements.
But her past experiences told her that it was better to be upfront about some things.
"You're sure there are no race restrictions?" she asked softly. Then she stood up and walked to stand before Ron, her small frame only reaching his chest.
Ron looked down into her soft black eyes, puzzled. "Yeah, I didn't set any race restrictions. Besides, you're not even—"
He didn't finish his sentence.
Because Nora had already reached up and pulled off her hat.
Moonlight slanted down from the east, casting a soft glow over her figure.
A pair of pale-black cat ears stood tall atop her head—and just like that, they entered Ron's field of vision.
"…Whoa. Cat ears?" Ron stared at the furry ears, stunned.
System Prompt:
[Daily Mission Triggered.]
[Daily Mission] – [Touch the Catgirl's Ears]:
[Objective: Touch the catgirl's ears before she puts her hat back on.]
[Reward: Stop staring! Get moving!]
Ron immediately ignored the system's sudden interruption. He glanced at the cat ears, then looked down at Nora's slightly stubborn, slightly resigned eyes.
As a straight-up guy, he asked the first thing that popped into his head: "Aren't beastfolk supposed to have light red eyes? Why are yours dark?"