Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking [24]
The town was cast in grim hues, and a sour stench like old vomit lingered thickly on the streets. People drifted by, their gazes vacant and faces numb, trudging like soulless laborers carrying picks as they headed unprotected toward the mining zone.
Not far off, a group of thin children played together, their noses red from the cold, long trails of snot clinging to their chapped skin. Their threadbare cotton clothes provided only the most basic warmth.
Older folks with weary faces sat on the stoops of their crumbling homes, hands clutching canes that trembled from exhaustion. Their clouded eyes held no spark of hope for the future.
What little food they had, they saved for the young and able. When thirsty, they drank hastily filtered snowmelt. When hungry, they tightened their belts; if that wasn't enough, they'd punch their empty stomachs until the sharp pain forced them to stop.
Farther along, the sound of a baby's shrill cries echoed from an apartment, soon followed by the angry shouts of a man and woman. Then, the crash of shattering glass. Silence followed, save for the child's helpless wails.
From a rooftop, a dark figure plummeted, hitting the ground with a thud like a garbage bag. The mix of red and white fluids pooling out into the alley made a few passersby grimace as they cursed and quickly moved along.
Just standing here, Bronya felt a relentless wave of shock strike at her heart.
…Why? Why is this place like this?
Wasn't the Lower District supposed to be the secure, stable rear guard?
The Lower District she had heard of from her mother's reports was nothing like this nightmarish scene before her.
Almost to herself, she muttered, "How… how could it come to this?"
Walking beside her, Venti glanced at her words and answered with a hint of meaning.
"You probably already have some ideas. But what I can tell you is, this is only a piece of the truth."
She lifted her head, bewildered.
"The first time I saw all this, I asked myself the same question—why is it like this?" Venti's pace picked up as he moved toward the children now hurrying to greet him, producing small treats as if by magic and handing them out.
The kids' delighted shouts filled the air. The older ones brought some treats home to share with the elderly, who offered him faint, grateful smiles before insisting the children take the food for themselves, grumbling, "Not hungry. You eat…"
Watching the heart-wrenching scene, Venti turned back to her and spoke softly.
"To survive here, the first thing you have to learn is to stop asking those questions."
"Stop… asking?"
"Because for people living here, they never had a choice."
His gaze held a faint sadness.
"Whether it's the crushing poverty or the hopeless future, they face a constant stream of setbacks and losses. Thinking about the things they'll never have… it only leads to anger and despair."
"…"
Bronya was silent, guilt and shame churning within her.
"All right. This is only our first stop," Venti said after waving farewell to the children and leading Bronya to Natasha's clinic.
On the way, the compassionate young lady attempted to offer the children some gifts as he had, but this trip had been hastily planned, and she had nothing on hand. She suggested giving them Winter City shields, but Venti discouraged her.
To them, it would feel less like kindness and more like a condescending handout.
The small children would be unable to protect those coins, making them potential targets, and it could foster an unhealthy "habit" of dependence.
Venti himself didn't give the children free treats every time either; sometimes, he'd ask them to run little errands in exchange.
That was why he was able to earn the kids' respect without setting up any unhealthy expectations. By allowing for give and take, he helped them learn that even relationships should be based on mutual respect.
Just then, three familiar kids came rushing from the other side of the street—it was Hook and her friends from the Moles.
Leading the group, Hook's face was pale with worry, but her expression changed to one of relief and urgency when she spotted Venti.
"Something terrible's happened, Honorary Mole Captain Venti! Miss Natasha—she's in trouble!"
"What happened to Natasha?" Venti asked quickly.
"Oh, it's not her that's hurt!" the girl next to Hook, Alina, explained breathlessly. "They brought in loads of Wildfire people! They're all injured really badly!"
"I even saw Hook's dad being called to help dig out a collapsed mineshaft!" Julian added, his face tense with concern.
"A mining accident…?" Venti murmured. Before he could think more on it, Hook was already tugging him urgently toward the clinic, dragging Bronya along too.
Upon reaching the clinic, Hook and her friends were sent home—they were far too young for what lay inside.
The cots in the clinic were filled with injured members of Wildfire. Their faces were twisted in pain, sweat and blood soaking into the sheets, including Oleg, who Venti recognized at once.
He was badly injured, on the verge of death. Natasha was applying emergency treatment, and at the sight of Venti, she called for his help in getting Oleg into surgery.
Bronya, still dazed and unsure of how to assist, stood frozen at the entrance until a cool voice behind her jolted her back to reality.
"Hey, I haven't seen you around here before. What street are you from?"
The girl's tone sharpened as she looked at Bronya, who had no response but to stare back blankly.
"If it's just a small illness, take a seat and wait. They're busy in there. Don't just stand around in the way."
"…Right, sorry." Bronya moved aside as instructed. Only then did she notice that the girl's right arm was injured, wrapped hastily with a blood-stained bandage.
Noticing Bronya's lingering gaze, the girl scowled and positioned herself defensively.
"What's wrong? You got a problem?"
"I didn't mean anything by it. You misunderstood."
For some reason, facing this girl made Bronya feel strangely out of her depth.
Satisfied that Bronya was harmless, the girl slouched back against the wall with an easygoing attitude.
"Then, keep your eyes to yourself. Only pickpockets and those lousy scavengers stare at people like that."
"…Pickpockets… scavengers…"
Seeing her repeat the words quietly, the girl looked her over with increasing suspicion. There was definitely something off about this stranger.
"Hey. I'm still waiting for an answer. Which part of—"
Before she could press further, the red light over the surgery room flicked off, replaced by green. Natasha emerged with Venti at her side, exhaustion etched on her face. Her gloves were stained a deep red, while Venti, though spotless as ever, wore a somber expression.
"Oi, busker! What were you doing in there?" The girl, who Bronya realized was named Seele, rushed to meet them. She looked at Venti with genuine concern, unlike the harsh way she'd spoken to Bronya.
Couldn't she have spoken to me that nicely? Bronya thought with a tinge of embarrassment.
"Oh, Seele! It was touch and go with Oleg for a moment there! Lucky I had the presence of mind to pull my lyre string and sew him right up—"
Venti's attempt to ease the tension with a joke was quickly shut down by Seele's stern glare.
"Be serious."
The bloodshot look in her eyes, so raw with emotion, caused Venti to bow his head, allowing Natasha to explain.