My stomach kept grumbling—it hadn't stopped since dusk. I sat beneath the damp bridge, hugging my knees, watching the other families who lived nearby. Some were feeding their children, others chuckling softly around a campfire. Even though they weren't real families, at least they had each other. While I... was just waiting for my brother, who still hadn't returned.
"Brother... I'm hungry. Where are you...?" I whispered, rubbing my ever-complaining belly.
That was when a girl about my age, dressed in a simple cream-colored dress, stopped a few steps away from me. In her hands was a whole piece of bread, wrapped in clean paper and tied with a thin string. Her gaze was gentle as she looked at me.
"I thought... you might be hungry," she said, stepping closer. "Here, take my bread. I'm full."
I looked at the bundle. My hand reached out, then hesitated. My eyes shifted between her face and the bread. I wanted to say "no," but my body refused. Grrr—my stomach growled again, cutting off my thoughts.
"Pftt, hahaha," the girl giggled softly. "Your tummy just spoke. It's alright, really—just take it."
"Are you sure...?" I asked hesitantly.
"I'm sure," she answered with a smile—warmer than the bread itself.
Elsewhere, the clown stood in the middle of the market, searching for what my brother had asked for. The rain had stopped, but puddles and the smell of wet earth still lingered. With long strides, he walked through the now-empty market, eyes scanning every corner.
"Found it," he muttered upon spotting a small basket beside a cart. He picked it up—its contents were a mess: a soaked piece of bread and a toppled bottle of milk. He sighed and headed for the nearest bakery, just as it was about to close.
Without hesitation, he knocked gently and exchanged a few coins for two fresh loaves of bread and a bottle of milk. When he returned to the shelter where the child was waiting, he handed over the basket carefully.
Brother Albert gave a faint smile—weak, but better than tears.
"Thank you, sir."
"May I ask something?" the clown removed his mask, revealing a tired but kind face.
"Of course. What is it, sir?"
"You two... live alone?"
The boy lowered his head. "Yes…"
"Do you live in a house?"
"No. We don't have a home anymore. The nobles took it from us."
"Damn it... heartless bastards." He put his mask back on, then extended a hand. "Come with me, kid. Your life—and your sister's—will change. I need someone like you. Will you come?"
In a small garden not far from the bridge, I sat on a wooden bench beside Olivia. She was silent, watching the moon slowly rise above the rooftops of old houses. The night air was growing colder, but somehow, being with her made it feel warmer.
"So... you only live with your brother, Albert?" she asked softly, as if afraid to touch a still-open wound.
I nodded, staring at the ground. "Yeah. Our mother's gone. We only have each other."
"I see... it reminds me of what happened to my father." She lowered her head too. Silence lingered.
I glanced at her. "What happened to him?"
"He used to be a village doctor," she said. "But the nobles brought him to the city... used everything they could from him, then tossed him aside like garbage when they were done. Now we live here. Just like you."
"We can't even go back to our village," she continued. "Our home was destroyed. We're struggling, Albert. But my father always says we have to keep going."
I looked at her—at that calm face quietly hiding pain. "I see..."
Suddenly Olivia stood up. Moonlight shone on her back.
"Um, Albert..." she said softly, hesitantly. "My father said... tomorrow we're going somewhere. Do you want to come?"
We walked down the dirt path toward the space beneath the bridge. The night wind carried the lazy sound of the river, and our steps were slow, side by side, passing rows of stalls and tents where people took shelter. Tiny candles flickered between them—symbols of family, in its simplest form.
I walked Olivia to her place. An old tent with torn cloth walls, yet it felt warm from the light and voices inside.
"Thank you, Albert. I'll see you again tomorrow... don't forget to give me your answer," Olivia said, waving. Her smile... felt like it could warm any night.
I gave a small nod, trying to stay calm despite the tightness in my chest. "Alright. I'll think about it. See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," she replied before turning and skipping toward her family.
From afar, I could still hear her mother teasing.
"Oh, is that your boyfriend, Olivia?! Hehe."
I almost laughed, but held my breath when I heard Olivia's reply—flat, but warm.
"Aish, it's not like that, Mom, Dad. He was just hungry, so I helped him... That's all."
Their light laughter drifted into the night, making this dark place feel just a little more alive.
I took a deep breath, then walked the usual path to wait for my brother. Under a moonlit sky, I moved through hanging sheets of tent fabric, hoping to spot a silhouette I knew so well. But there was nothing. Again—nothing.
"Sigh... Brother, where did you go this time?" I muttered, a little frustrated.
But before sadness could creep in, my eyes caught something on the ground a short distance ahead—a folded cloth covering something. I stepped closer and gently lifted it. Underneath was an old rattan basket.
I froze. Two pieces of bread still untouched inside, along with a small unopened bottle of milk. Brother... he had returned, but left again before I could see him.
My stomach still growled. I took a piece of bread and bit into it ravenously. My mouth was full, but I forced myself to speak softly.
"Brother... why'd you leave again... Aishh." I quickly swallowed and drank a little milk. Its warmth spread through my chest.
The night passed. I sat once more, leaning against the wall of our small tent, hugging that empty basket. My belly was full, but my heart... was still waiting. Waiting for him to come home.
In front of the towering castle gates, my brother stood beside the masked man—the clown who always hid his face behind a false smile. Last night's rain had passed, but the ground remained damp, and the air was laced with a bone-deep chill.
"Ready, kid?!" the clown asked, his voice heavy but not forceful.
My brother nodded, then gripped the clown's hand tightly. His eyes were full of resolve. Without hesitation—as if, for the first time, he truly knew where his steps would take him.
I awoke to the sound of little birds above the bridge. The sun wasn't high yet, but morning light began to slip through the gaps in the iron and cloth overhead. The air was still damp, and the wind carried the scent of earth and the charcoal that hadn't fully burned out from the night.
"Brother..." I murmured as I sat up, rubbing my eyes. I looked ahead, hoping to see him sitting there, waiting for me to wake like he always did.
But it wasn't my brother I saw. Someone else stood there, smiling gently at me.
"Eh, your brother still isn't back, Alberttt?" Olivia asked, brushing aside her wind-blown hair.
"Oh... it's you, Olivia," I replied, a little surprised. I looked around to make sure. "He hasn't come back since last night."
"Maybe he'll be back soon," she said softly, trying to comfort me. Her smile was the same as last night—warm, and for some reason, it made me believe everything would be alright.
Olivia then tilted her head slightly, her gaze gentle but filled with curiosity. "So... have you decided?"