The View from the Rusty Bell

Beyond the wall lay a tent, its canvas slumping in a gentle incline. He wants me to cross this? The fabric was worn and frayed in patches; I seriously doubted it could hold my weight. As if to show me how it was done, Luke stepped out slowly, reaching the opposite roof without much trouble. I bit the inside of my lip for a moment, then followed, treading carefully over the sections where pillars supported the cloth from beneath.

“Not bad.”

His smile clung to me like a physical touch, making my cheeks prickle.

“Stop treating me like a kid.”

The words came out sounding rather sullen. I regretted them the instant they left my mouth. I suddenly remembered my past self, how I used to sneer at kids who threw fits about not being treated like adults. Seeing Luke’s grin deepen only soured my mood further.

“Got it.”

We crossed several more rooftops after that. It wasn’t that I lacked the stamina, but I was starting to wonder exactly where we were headed. Luke moved busily, occasionally leaping over gaps or grabbing my arm to pull me along.

“Where exactly are we going?”

There was no answer. I’d realized recently that Luke didn’t exactly have a “nice” personality. Not that I’d expected him to, but he was worse than I’d imagined. Worst of all was his habit of only hearing what he wanted to hear and picking which questions to answer.

And that’s why you never became the Main, I clicked my tongue inwardly—only to remember that the Crown Prince, who did become the Main, had a personality that was just as difficult. No, he was actually worse. I revised my premise: perhaps being a “Main” was a title inversely proportional to one’s character and directly proportional to one’s power. This was technically a romance genre even if it was between men, yet the romantic guy was the one losing? It was hard to wrap my head around.

I stopped to catch my breath, which was growing ragged in the heat, and irritably wiped away the sweat. I considered taking off my jacket and draping it over my arm, but I knew it would just become a nuisance the next time I had to grab onto something to climb.

“We’re almost there.”

Only then did Luke try to soothe me. There’s nothing that makes your trust in someone plummet faster than the phrase “we’re almost there.” Neither his face nor his words inspired a shred of confidence. I snorted, but I closed the distance between us anyway. Since I’d come this far, it was better to play along.

Surprisingly enough, his words—which I’d assumed were a lie—turned out to be true.

It didn’t take long for Luke to announce our arrival. After crossing countless roofs, tents, and walls, we had reached a bell tower. The massive bell looked as if it hadn’t been used in ages, thick with rust. Below the roof of the building adjacent to the tower, several poles jutted out. They looked like the kind used to hang banners or advertisements when needed.

The top-most bar looked sturdy enough, but only relatively speaking. It was narrow and high—clearly not intended for a human to walk across. If you fell from this height, something was definitely breaking. The ends were tied down to secure them, but it didn’t look particularly reliable.

He’s going to cross that? Is he serious?

At this point, I hoped Luke would tease me, saying, “Scared? You didn’t think we were actually going across that, did you?” But instead, he took the lead without a word. Every time Luke stepped down, the pole swayed elastically. Even though I knew he’d done this a hundred times and would be fine, I couldn’t help but watch him with a knot in my stomach, terrified he might fall.

When he was about a third of the way across, Luke grabbed a protruding ornament on the pillar closest to the tower and pulled himself up. The solid iron decoration jutted out, and since the exterior wall wasn’t polished smooth, it provided enough of a foothold. With a light hop, Luke disappeared into the arched opening between the pillars and sat down, looking back at me.

“Want me to reach out a hand?”

Instead of answering, I stepped onto the pole. It was a dizzying height; I tried my best not to look down, but my attention kept drifting toward the drop. I steadied my breathing and focused. This isn’t even that difficult. Fighting with Blodgette and a real sword is much more dangerous and harder than this.

Once I cleared the pole and grabbed the tower’s ornamentation, climbing up was easy. Ignoring his outstretched hand, I pulled myself completely inside. Luke graciously yielded the only cushion available. I didn’t refuse, flopping down onto it. We were on the floor directly below the bell; the space felt lived-in, as if Luke frequented this spot.

It wasn’t particularly spacious, but the ceiling was high and the sides were open, so it didn’t feel cramped. The gaps between the arched pillars were wide open, offering a vivid view of the clouds turning crimson.

Before I knew it, I was silently soaking in the breeze, gazing at a landscape I didn’t usually see. Objectively, the tower wasn’t exceptionally tall, so I couldn’t see the entirety of Robenus, but I could catch a glimpse of the central district.

They say Robenus is the City of Roses, where every layer reveals a different scenery. The center—the heart—boasted its splendor, while the outskirts looked as though they were wilting, blackened and devoid of life. The stream flowing in the distance looked so serene it was hard to imagine a lawless wasteland lay just beyond it.

As the wind cooled my sweat, I belatedly thought of Leo. I needed to be back before he finished work. We were past the peak of the long summer days, so the evenings were short. It would be night soon; if I’d known there was going to be a “surprise event” like this, I would have at least given him a heads-up.

As I looked out anxiously, something suddenly invaded my field of vision. Handing me half an apple, Luke spoke as if he knew exactly what I was worried about.

“It won’t be that late.”

“What are we even doing here?”

“I don’t have anything to drink, though.”

I wish someone would teach this guy how to have a conversation. There were two people here, yet because one side was stubbornly saying whatever he wanted, no dialogue was actually happening.

I narrowed my eyes as I bit into the apple. It had a bit of a tart, unripe taste, but it wasn’t inedible. Come to think of it, his pockets had looked empty earlier—where did this come from?

“Did you steal this?”

No matter how I looked at it, this tower wasn’t a living space. At best, it was a hideout. You couldn’t store fruit long-term in a place where random bundles of cloth were rolling around. When I asked with a raised eyebrow, Luke answered bluntly.

“Yeah.”

His sheer audacity was staggering. I stared at the apple—now marked with my teeth—with a sense of discomfort, but I finished the bite anyway. There was no point in throwing away something that had already lost its market value.

“There’s a performance today,” Luke finally explained why he’d brought me here.

“A performance?”

When I asked, he leaned his body against my back and pointed toward a specific spot. In a corner of an alley that you wouldn’t be able to spot unless you were at a height, there was a fairly wide vacant lot.

“The Nameless Musician and the Foolish Dancer.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s what they call the performances by artists who’ve been cast out because they couldn’t find fame. People call them foolish for refusing to give up ‘art’ even when they don’t have enough money to eat.”

I brushed off the arm that had naturally settled over my shoulder. He didn’t try a second time and stayed quiet.

Since it was something Luke wanted to show me, it must have been a decent show; quite a crowd had gathered. I stopped being prickly and watched. A young violinist and an elderly cellist began their set on a makeshift stage made of long, stretched ropes. Seeing them, I understood why he’d chosen this tower.

Contrary to the poverty etched into their haggard faces, the young man’s face glowed with life as he played a well-maintained violin, and the elderly cellist’s ridiculous mustache quivered. One of the spectators must have been a dancer, as they began to move to the music; soon, others with instruments joined the fray spontaneously, matching the melody.

It was almost embarrassing to call it a “performance,” but it was undeniably lively. It had a raw vitality you wouldn’t find even if you went to Dawn Tree Hall, the grandest theater in Robenus. It couldn’t compare to the music created by renowned masters who poured their souls into their work, but the fact that it could bring such energy to a bleak alleyway was impressive in its own right.

Without realizing it, I began to tap my toe to the beat. Luke didn’t miss the opening and draped his arm over my shoulder again.

I have no idea why he keeps messing with my hat or leaning his weight on me when I’m just staying still. You could argue that putting an arm around someone is a normal expression of friendliness, but… well. Luke didn’t seem like the type to express friendliness in a “normal” way.

This time, he clearly had no intention of moving, and he didn’t budge when I shifted. He was already heavy, but when I didn’t give him a big reaction, he started to pour his full weight onto me. I felt like my spine was going to fold. What is wrong with this guy now? I looked away from the performance and turned my head, only for his face to suddenly loom close.

“What—”

If I hadn’t raised my hand in a hurry to block him, I would have surrendered my lips again. You can call the first time a lapse in guard, but a second time is hard to excuse. With his mouth blocked by my hand, Luke simply crinkled his eyes into a smile. It was hard to guess what was hidden in those narrowed eyes. But soon, something damp touched my palm, and the “what” didn’t matter anymore.

“Ugh!” A scream escaped me despite myself. I tried to pull my hand away in horror, but Luke grabbed my wrist, pressing his nose and lips tightly against my palm. I tried desperately to tell myself that the wet sensation on my skin just now was his breath and lips, not his tongue. Neither felt particularly good, but the tongue theory dealt significantly more damage.

“It’s because you keep paying attention to other things,” he said.