IX
I studied Robin as he sat across from me, his posture stiff, his expression hard. His tone was equally resolute when he finally spoke.
"I have a favor to ask."
I raised an eyebrow. "I can't help you with the woman you so dearly cherish… and you know why."
His jaw tightened, but he shook his head. "I'm not so shameless as to beg another person to fulfill my own labor. It's not about that. I am going to save the woman I cherish. It has to be me." He hesitated, then added, "But don't get me wrong—I don't trust you. I'm willing to be your henchman, but not forever."
I smirked. "Good enough for me. So, what is this favor you're asking?"
He paused, the words heavy as he spoke. "There is a street urchin… I want you to adopt her."
I blinked. Of all the things he could've said, this wasn't even in the realm of possibilities I'd considered. "Okay," I said slowly. "This is… unexpected."
Robin didn't flinch. "I've been looking out for her. But if I'm going north, she'll need someone else."
"Why me?"
"You know why."
I leaned back in my chair, considering. "What makes this girl so special?"
Robin met my gaze, his dark eyes unyielding. "You know a lot about me. You tell me."
I tilted my head, thinking. "You came from a line of nobles. I'd guess this urchin you speak of is a distant relative. Since the Unification War, a lot of noble families were put into decline and eventually vanished from the aristocratic world. The Arkwrights were no exception."
Robin nodded, though his face remained impassive. "My family owed a lot to hers."
"A little girl, then?" I asked. "Does this urchin have a name?"
Robin didn't answer. Instead, he gestured for me to follow.
We took a carriage and soon found ourselves on a street bordering the slums. The buildings here were crumbling, their faded facades barely holding together.
"Amsten doesn't have an orphanage," Robin said as we walked. "Most of the time, the gangs adopt the street kids. But not this one. She's been under my protection for a long time. With me gone, she needs a guardian. Moreover, there is only so much protection I can give her. You are different. You have power."
I glanced at him. "Just so you know, I won't adopt her as my daughter. I'll merely be her guardian for the duration of your absence. And if you want me to take care of her, then at least tell me her name."
Robin's lips pressed into a thin line. "No. Ask her yourself."
We stopped in front of a dilapidated cabin near the river. Robin knocked on the door in a specific rhythm. After a moment, it creaked open, and a brunette girl peeked out. She wasn't taller than my waist, her wary eyes darting between us.
Robin stepped inside, his tone soft as he spoke to her. Their conversation was hushed, though the occasional raised voice from the girl betrayed her frustration or sense of betrayal.
I waited outside, leaning against the wall and listening to the faint murmur of their exchange. The girl's voice grew louder, a mix of anger and sadness. Robin's was calm, steady, as though trying to reassure her.
Eventually, the door creaked open, and Robin stepped out. He looked at me, his face unreadable. "She's ready to meet you."
I straightened, brushing off the dust from my coat. "Good. Let's see what I'm working with."
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in a carriage with the little girl.
Robin had gone off to follow the walkthrough I'd written for him, heading north with Stella Amsten's signature weapons and a notebook of instructions that could make or break his survival. Frankly, I was glad to leave that dilapidated cabin as early as possible. It was in such a terrible state that I felt unclean just standing inside it.
The little girl sat across from me, arms crossed and staring out the window. Her rags—because calling them clothes would've been generous—hung loosely on her small frame.
"Where are we going?" she finally asked, her tone tinged with suspicion.
"To a tailor I know," I replied.
It was painfully obvious Robin hadn't been able to provide her with anything resembling a stable life. He lacked the skills to survive as a commoner, let alone as a guardian. While his intentions may have been noble—or at least dutiful—it was clear he hadn't been able to meet her needs.
Her attachment to him was obvious, though. Whether Robin felt the same was debatable. His promise to protect her seemed more like a burden he'd reluctantly accepted rather than a bond he cherished.
I studied her as the carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets. Her small hands clutched the edges of her seat, her eyes darting toward me every so often, wary but curious.
"What's your name?" I asked.
She narrowed her eyes. "And why do you want to know?"
I shrugged. "Urchin it is, then."
Her face flushed. "U-Urchin isn't my name… Call me… Nika."
The name didn't trigger anything in my memory. I stared at her Level 3 display, which floated faintly above her head. She wasn't anything special, at least not at first glance. Nika was probably an alias, though I didn't press the issue.
Still, the possibility of her being a named character from Questworks lingered in the back of my mind. I tried to recall every child NPC I'd encountered in the game. Nothing. I shifted my focus to Robin's in-game relationships, combing through my memories for a connection. Still nothing.
Nika's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Are you… strong?"
"That depends," I said nonchalantly.
"Robin might not be strong," she muttered, her voice softer, "but he protects me."
"I don't care," I replied flatly.
Her small hands clenched into fists, but her voice was steady when she asked, "Can you teach me how to be strong?"
I smirked, leaning back against the seat. "That depends."
Her eyes narrowed. "On what?"
"On whether or not you're worth the effort."
She glared at me, her jaw set in defiance. For someone so young, she had a fire in her that Robin clearly hadn't extinguished. Whether that fire would make her a capable fighter or simply burn her out remained to be seen.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the tailor's shop. I stepped out first, offering a hand to her. She hesitated before taking it, her small fingers trembling slightly.
"Let's see if we can't make you look less like an urchin," I said with a smirk.
She huffed but followed me inside. The tailor was in for an interesting challenge.
Timothy Wilkins hovered around Nika like a protective uncle inspecting a newfound niece. He leaned slightly forward, his inquisitive gaze locked onto her.
"Such a frail girl," he said, his tone somewhere between pity and concern.
Nika tilted her chin up, defiance flashing in her dark eyes. "It's not that bad. I might be thin, but at least I'm not malnourished."
That much was true, at least. Robin must have ensured she ate enough to avoid hunger. But while she wasn't starving, the state of her clothing, hygiene, and overall well-being left much to be desired.
"Make the clothes a bit bigger and more durable," I instructed Wilkins, "so she can use them longer."
Nika frowned. "I don't get it. Won't they feel loose then?"
Wilkins chuckled warmly, crouching slightly to meet her eye level. "Young miss, Nick here is a good guy, and he'll definitely feed you lots. Soon enough, you'll grow into them."
He then straightened and honed his sharp eyes on me. "You are going to feed her lots, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," I replied, waving off his question with mild irritation.
Wilkins squinted suspiciously, stroking his chin. "You aren't planning on doing anything unsavory to her, are you?"
What the hell? I stared at him, incredulous. "I am not that kind of person."
Wilkins folded his arms, his lips twitching into a teasing smirk. "Oh, so you're adopting her, then?"
Nika, who had been silently watching the exchange, quickly cut in. "He's just looking out for me on behalf of a friend."
Wilkins raised an eyebrow, his curiosity undeterred. "I see, I see… A guardian for hire, huh?"
I didn't dignify that with a response, instead turning my attention to the tailor who had been patiently waiting for instructions. "Do you have anything ready-made that could fit her? We don't have time for custom orders."
The tailor nodded and gestured toward a selection of sturdy, practical outfits meant for young girls. I let Nika choose, though she glanced at me for approval before settling on a simple yet durable dress in earthy tones.
She still looked like a street urchin.
I sighed.
As Wilkins helped her gather the clothes, he continued his good-natured interrogation. "So, Nick, what's your angle here? You don't strike me as the charitable type."
I smirked. "Maybe I just have a soft spot for street urchins."
Wilkins didn't buy it for a second but let the matter drop, turning his attention back to Nika. "You're in good hands, young miss. Just make sure to keep an eye on him too, alright?"
Nika nodded solemnly, her small fingers clutching the hem of her new dress.
As we left the tailor's shop, Wilkins called after us, "Take care of her, Nick! And don't forget, she's watching you as much as you're watching her!"
I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a small grin. Nika, walking beside me, looked up with a hint of curiosity.
"Is he your friend?" she asked.
"Something like that," I replied.
She didn't press further, but her guarded expression softened slightly. Maybe this wouldn't be as much of a headache as I thought. Then again, with Wilkins and his unsolicited commentary, I couldn't be so sure.
The carriage ride back to Shinemere Inn was quiet. Nika stared out the window, her expression unreadable. I couldn't tell if she was nervous, excited, or just tired from the whirlwind of events that had brought her here. I leaned back in my seat, my mind occupied with how to handle the situation once we arrived.
When we pulled up to the inn, I stepped out first, Nika following hesitantly behind me. Her ragged appearance drew immediate stares from the staff. The doorman's brows furrowed, and the receptionist glanced up from her ledger, her smile faltering as her eyes landed on Nika.
"Sir," the receptionist began delicately, "we have certain standards—"
I cut her off by producing a small stack of worths from my pocket and sliding it across the counter. "For your trouble," I said, keeping my tone even. "I'll need her cleaned up, well-fed, and moved to a double room with me. That shouldn't be a problem, right?"
The woman's eyes flickered between the worths and me, weighing her options. After a moment, she gave a tight nod and reached for the money. "Of course, sir. Right away."
The staff sprang into action after that. A maid was summoned to escort Nika to a bath while another was tasked with preparing a hearty meal for her. I watched as Nika hesitated, glancing back at me with uncertainty.
"It's fine," I reassured her. "Go with them. I'll be here."
She nodded slowly and allowed herself to be led away.
While she was occupied, I spoke with the manager about switching my room. The process was relatively painless—another exchange of worths and a bit of smooth-talking did the trick. By the time Nika returned, looking far more presentable in her dress, our new accommodations were ready.
We settled into the double room, which was spacious enough to avoid feeling cramped but not so large as to be overwhelming. Nika perched on the edge of one of the beds, her small frame making her look even younger than she was.
The rest of the day passed without much incident. Nika ate her meal in silence, though she seemed to savor every bite. I spent the time organizing my things and mentally reviewing my plans for the days ahead.
By the time night fell, Nika was already curled up under the covers, fast asleep. I watched her for a moment, a pang of something unfamiliar tugging at my chest. Responsibility, maybe? Or guilt? Whatever it was, I brushed it aside and turned my attention back to my own bed.
As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but feel a sense of calm I hadn't experienced in a while. The day had been uneventful, yes, but in this world, that was something to be grateful for.