STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

59. COMFORTABLE LIFE

And so they were home again.

South did, in fact, crash like the dead.

Christallion basically snagged him off the coachman's seat by the scruff and dragged him straight to Mama Northford like a dead body. He was delivered healthy to the servant's quarters three days later.

-

Hans had to give him a haircut because the horses chewed on his hair.

"Your hair's gotten a little longer again," Hans sighed fondly, trimming the mess slightly. "It's such a pretty colour, too, you should take care of it better."

"Don't be silly, Hans-hyung," South said, "I'm a stablehand. What use is a horse holster that minds his appearance?"

"You're also a secondary Coachman," Hans corrected.

South whined about it.

"You're the first person I know to complain about a promotion," Hans said.

"That's a lie," South refuted. "Plenty of people used to grumble when they were 'promoted' to become the Young Master's aide. It is because you were one of the rare ones that didn't complain, that you passed the probation period and went on to become Vice Deputy Butler."

"It sounds like something impressive when you phrase it like that, but it's not really different from when I was a street urchin dealing with drunkards anyways. I'd saw Young Master is nicer in comparison," Hans chuckled at that. "All those same people now pull their hair in frustration when they think of the opportunity they missed out on."

South hummed. He didn't blame them.

At the time, they must have all thought that a pay rise was not worth the potential permanent injuries from those thrown wine bottles and damage to their servitude reputations. They had to survive, after all, and the trash of the count's family was not exactly a good achievement to put on your resume.

Also, is it just him, or does the Henituse County have a lot of street urchins and people without important last names in its main workforce? Even the Molans aren't that well known anymore. Could Count Deruth have been just as much of a lost child gatherer as Cale? Is it a family thing?

"It's to survive, dongsaeng-ya," Hans schooled him. "You can live a comfortable life here in the Henituse County compared to the streets. When I feel like my job is hard, I always think of that and get motivated again. Does that not work for you?"

("You deserve a comfortable life.")

South considered those words.

"Hans-hyung," he pulled his legs up on the chair, curling up and hugging his knees, "is this what a comfortable life is?"

Hans considered that. "Of course there are struggles. Young Master is a slave driver, isn't he?" he said. "But I have a roof over my head. I have pocket money, I can ask for vacation days and go to festivals. I don't have to wonder if I'll have food for tomorrow's lunch, and I can wear soft, warm clothes in winter. So yes— my life is comfortable."

"Even if we'll all die one day?"

"Yes," Hans barely faltered at that, leaning down on the backrest of the chair, resting his cheek in his knuckles as South leaned back to stare up at him. "Everyone has a limited time in this world. But people who are comfortable get to choose who and how they spend that time, aren't we so blessed?"

To be blessed is to be able to choose how you spend your time, and who you spend it with.

To be privileged is to have the choice. People in the streets don't have the choices they do— and Hans understands that. He treasures that. 

(You don't have to hide under a trench in the storm, praying you'll get through the night without enemies finding you.)

(You don't have to claw your way up dungeons, scourge the path of labyrinths, running away from monsters. You don't have to strangle your companions because only one of you can make it out.)

Hans is not as strong as the rest of the group. He has not seen war and he is squeamish at the thought of cruelty and bloodshed— and his innocence is something no one faults him for. In fact, they allow him to take his step back whenever he needs, and admire when he steps out of his comfort zone even then. 

This is not a world made for the strong. This is a world made so the weak can enjoy having choices. And for Hans, the one giving him many of those opportunities is the Henituse family, and that is why his loyalty to them will never falter.

He is an existence South cannot understand, but South has a feeling like he's the closest existence to what South was supposed to be. If South didn't transmigrate, maybe the person that used to be here, would be just like Hans.  

("My life is short, hyungnim. But I love it, because everyone treats me well here.")

("You're a taker, but I'm a giver. So, don't worry," he still remembered the warmth of that kiss on his forehead as they met for the first and last time the world would ever allow them to, "you'll live longer than I do.")

All South's life, the only thing he's ever done is take, and take, and take.

Because he was good at enduring, if nothing else.

He only ever brings misfortune to the people around him. When he looks at his hands again, there are no longer any tattoos from the other world. Only the koi fish circling his heart that he refuses to let go of. He has lost everything else. (He had thrown away everything else, with his own hands.)

But he has gained so much more.

He wondered if he'll ever learn how to give back all of this kindness one day. He didn't know what to do with it. He didn't understand why it was all being poured into his hands, and even as it spilled over, they kept pouring on, assuring him there was plenty to go around.

"Now get up baby," Hans ruffled his hair, pleased with the new style, "go wash up, and get your meal from the chef. I have to go serve the Masters, so I can't babysit you anymore."

South whined. "Isn't it about time I get staff meals from the cafeteria again?"

"No, you were just bedridden for so long. You can't eat normal meals yet. Don't make me escort you. And don't make that noise, you're not a horse."

South whined louder.