Deborah applied ointment to the wound on the boy’s arm and asked,
“But why were you getting beaten up?”
“Rude. Why do you even ask such a thing?”
The boy sneered, pursing his lips. Deborah, with an embarrassed expression, said,
“Sorry.”
The boy, who didn’t expect an apology from Deborah, furrowed his brows.
“You apologize for every little thing.”
“Isn’t it normal?”
“It’s more than normal.”
“Is it?”
Deborah blinked and, refocusing on the wound, said,
“Anyway, I’m good at apologizing. It’s something easy for me.”
Deborah was well aware that some people found it difficult to apologize. However, she was also good at admitting her mistakes and silently enduring injustices.
“It’s one of my few virtues.”
“Isn’t it a flaw?”
The boy scoffed. Deborah, who didn’t expect such a remark, blushed and gave an awkward smile.
“Well, maybe it could be seen as a flaw.”
“…”
The boy turned his head with an unsatisfied expression and asked,
“Why didn’t you ask why I avoided the police?”
“Yeah.”
Without stopping her hands from applying ointment, Deborah answered promptly.
“No need to ask. I think I know why you did it.”
The police didn’t view street children, dressed shabbily, wandering the streets with favorable eyes. The increase in children resorting to pickpocketing for survival due to poverty or lack of proper parental care was the reason. Consequently, the police indiscriminately apprehended noticeable children, sending those without guardians straight to distant reformatories unless someone came forward to prove their identity.
Several years later, the law changed, and reformatories disappeared. However, until then, reformatories were common. Sometimes, children who resisted going to the reformatory caused disturbances and, after a trial, ended up in juvenile prisons.
“It would be inconvenient if the police misunderstood for no reason.”
“It’s not a misunderstanding.”
Deborah, still applying ointment to the lingering wound, responded to the voice carried by the wind.
“No. I think I know why you did it.”
The police often misunderstood children causing trouble and sent them to reformatories. Deborah, with a gaze still fixed on the wound, continued,
“Didn’t you hear what that guy shouted earlier? I didn’t just get hit for no reason.”
“Huh?”
The boy, looking bewildered, sharply laughed at Deborah.
“I stole money from that guy.”
“Really?”
Deborah asked. The boy stared into her black eyes, silently clenching his fist.
“Yeah. I really stole it.”
The boy’s voice trembled a little. He hoped Deborah wouldn’t catch on, turning his head down.
And, pretending not to, he waited for Deborah’s next words. Deborah, however, said something unexpected from what the boy anticipated.
“I see. Ah, come to think of it, that man earlier seemed to ask why he stole his money.”
Deborah’s voice contained surprise, but there was no disdain, fear, or embarrassment. Just to be sure it wasn’t just the voice, when the boy hastily lifted his head, he could see Deborah’s face, which was not much different from before.
Innocent, clear, yet mature—such was her face.
“But why did you steal?”
“…Curious about that?”
The boy said with a furrowed brow. Deborah, worrying inwardly why she felt so sorry for that pretty face, said,
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But stealing money is a bad thing. You know that, too, right?”
Deborah, who casually spoke, probably noticed a wound similar to the one she got when she fell over and furrowed her brow.
“It seems this one won’t be healed with just one application.”
Deborah, who couldn’t take her eyes off the wound, cautiously applied the ointment.
“Sorry, but can you come again tomorrow? If left untreated, it might become worse.”
“…”
The boy didn’t respond.
‘I thought he might complain about the pain like earlier, but he hasn’t made a sound.’
Deborah thought that maybe the reason the boy didn’t answer was that he endured the pain.
‘If that’s the case, I should apply it as quickly as possible.’
Deborah quickly and meticulously applied the ointment to the wound on the boy’s face.
Deborah, who couldn’t look away from the visible wound, looked into his forehead covered by the hat.
“Can I check here too?”
When Deborah tried to move her hand with the hat, the startled boy jumped up.
This time, even Deborah was surprised. Staring at her, the boy, who quickly clamped his chest with his hands and stuck out his tongue, swiftly ran away.
“Hey? Wait a moment…!”
Deborah called after the boy belatedly. However, the boy didn’t look back. Alone in the alley, Deborah muttered,
“He ran away.”
Deborah tightly held onto the hat so that it wouldn’t come off and remembered the image of the boy enduring the kicks from an adult man.
“Ah, I shouldn’t have touched it.”
Deborah regretted. If she had squeezed out an apology even if she saw him tomorrow…
‘No. Will he come tomorrow?’
Earlier, the boy didn’t respond to Deborah’s words. He even left in anger like that.
‘…I should have at least given him the ointment.’
Deborah sighed deeply.
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
