Loman was, after all, just a child, and the only places for children to play were these lively places. Cecil didn't care what got on his clothes and went straight to the area with the most children.
He has already escaped, and those rules can't stop him anymore.
At the far end of the market, a group of children had gathered. Sehir squeezed in from the side to get a glimpse of what was happening inside.
Inside sat an animal trainer, brandishing a whip and striking the monkey in front of him, which jumped around in pain.
The louder the children around him screamed, the harder he hit them, and the more intense the monkey's screams became. Sehir frowned slightly, stopped watching, and instead looked up to survey the children around him.
After going around once, not to mention anything else, there wasn't even anyone with blond hair. Cecil clicked his tongue inwardly, turned around, and squeezed out of the crowd.
Cecil explored every nook and cranny of the food street, toy street, and even the streets frequented by adults. Sitting on the stone platform by the central street's pool, he felt his legs were about to give out.
After circling around, there wasn't a single familiar figure in sight. Sehir was panting, and the clouds above his head seemed to be suspended in mid-air like smoke billowing from a chimney.
Sehir sat there for a long time, watching as nearly half the people on the street walked by. A growing sense of unease crept in.
He lost Loman.
Sehir walked aimlessly down the street, his temples throbbing with pain. He wasn't looking where he was going and suddenly bumped into someone.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
The man immediately lowered his head, opened his mouth to apologize, bowed, and walked straight ahead, not giving Sehir a moment to say a word.
When he returned to the hotel, four or five burly men downstairs were already drunk and slumped over the table. For a moment, Sehir felt as if he had a thousand-pound iron disc strapped to his feet, and it seemed like it would take an eternity to climb the stairs.
He had just disembarked when he lost Loman. A series of memories flashed through Cecil's mind. He was like a three or four-year-old child, knowing nothing and needing to be taught everything.
I feel like a pathetic wretch, needing to be given charity to survive.
Sehir leaned against the door, his heart feeling more oppressed than ever before, as if countless surging waves were crashing down on him.
He was almost out of breath.
Sehir took the scarf off his neck and was about to take off his coat when he froze on the spot.
Blood pressure spikes to its peak instantly in a quiet, peaceful environment.
With a choked voice, Sehir slowly put his hand into his pocket.
It's empty! There's nothing there!
Sehir frantically searched every part of his body—empty! All empty except for the clean, white handkerchief lying on his chest.
Sehir was stunned and suddenly tried to recall what had just happened. When was it? He paused for a long time, but couldn't remember anything.
So now… Cecil looked at the bare headboard; he was penniless.
Tonight is his last night staying at this hotel!
Sehir's back was once again covered in cold sweat. He looked down at his belongings, including the ring he had worn on his hand, which he had left at home when he escaped.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
He had nothing of value on him.
Suddenly, Cecil's gaze fell on the scarf hanging on the hanger. The burgundy knit fabric was clearly not cheap, and even the gold thread embroidery at the end was hand-picked stitch by stitch.
Selling this might allow him to live for a few weeks.
But Cecil's thought lasted only a second; he couldn't possibly sell the scarf, at least not now.
Sehir gently rubbed the scarf, went downstairs again, and found the innkeeper.
—
"Hello, are you still hiring?"
Sehir lowered his voice as much as possible to make himself look older.
The boss looked Cecil up and down and asked, "What can you do?"
Sehir was stunned by the question. He looked up and met the boss's gaze. The boss was a fat man who stood in front of Sehir like a wall, and his expression was far from kind.
“What do you need?” Sehir gave an ambiguous answer.
The shop owner put his things aside, pointed to the plates and bowls in the sink, and asked, "Wash the dishes? Do you know how?"
Sehir thought for a moment. He had seen Isri wash dishes a few times before, and it seemed quite simple, so he smiled and said, "Sure."
The boss grunted, "Go ahead and wash it."
"How much money?" The most important thing now is to solve the money problem.
Finally, Sessil's boss chuckled, "One hundred copper coins an hour, the more you work, the more you earn."
One hundred copper coins? Sehir did the math in his head and thought the price was reasonable. After responding to the shopkeeper, he rolled up his sleeves and stood by the sink.
The plates were almost piled up, covered in so much grease that they were practically glued together. Cecil frowned as he took the plates out of the sink.
Just as one was pulled out from the gap above, the bottom became unstable, and a whole bunch of plates rushed down with a crashing sound, like porcelain colliding.
Fortunately, nothing broke. The boss heard the noise, turned around, and scolded Cecil: "Be careful!"
Sehir frowned even more as he looked at his hands, which were covered in grease.
According to his memory, Sehir finally squeezed the cleaning agent onto his hands from the countertop. Only after the oily feeling on his hands lessened did Sehir finally start working on it again.
It seems that too much detergent was squeezed out, as the plate in my hand kept slipping and I almost dropped it on the ground several times.
Sehir frantically applied the cleaning agent to the plate, squeezing out more and more until the entire sink was filled with foam.
I just took a plate out of the container, and because it had been in contact with water, I lost my grip and with a "bang," the plate slipped from my hand and fell to the ground.
The next second, Cecil reached out to catch it, but he didn't notice what was behind him and his clothes got caught on the spoon that was sticking out of the pool.
In an instant, the spoon, tilting the plate, flew out of the sink and hit Cecil squarely on the head before shattering on the floor.
Hearing the noise, the boss rushed in from outside. Seeing the bubbles flying everywhere and the porcelain shards scattered all over the floor, his anger surged.
He rushed up to Sehir in a few quick movements, raised his hand to strike Sehir, but just as he was about to hit him, he stopped his hand in mid-air.
After a long pause, he sighed angrily and said, "Kids shouldn't get involved in these things. Go find your parents and go to sleep!"
Sehir opened his eyes, which had been closed, looked at his boss, and said, "I'm not a child."
The shop owner rubbed his head, picked up a broom from the side, and slowly swept the floor. He calmly opened his mouth and said, "Even if you weren't a child, I wouldn't accept you. Do you want to smash all the plates in my shop?"
Sehir stood there somewhat bewildered, then opened his mouth to apologize, "I'll be more careful next time."
The shop owner raised his eyebrows slightly, waved his hand, and said helplessly, "You should go and cause trouble for other shops instead."
Having said all that, Sehir couldn't really say anything more, so he could only apologize and leave, not even having time to rinse the foam off his hands.
Back in the room, the cold air enveloped me once more. Some of the shops outside were already closed, and everything would have to wait until tomorrow morning.
He's so pitiful now that he can't even afford a meal.
Sehir sat on the edge of the bed and grinned. Just a few days ago, he was still the pampered young master who had everything done for him and was someone who was held in high esteem.
Now I've fallen so low that I have to work for others to make a living, and I've even been kicked out by my boss.
Thinking of this, Sesil couldn't help but laugh out loud again. It was a world of difference; if he said it, others would definitely think he was joking.
——
The next day, before dawn, Sehir had already gotten up and left the hotel. Every country distributes free food to the slum dwellers every morning; it is a gift from the king.
Sehir exhaled a puff of white mist in the cold air, looking at the road signs to find the location of the palace. If he didn't go to collect his meal, he might not even get to eat today.
Sehir had almost no hope of finding a job today; he was the poor guy who was stuck on the ground, having to learn everything from scratch.
Sure enough, in front of the palace, people had already started setting up stalls to prepare for the distribution of food for the day. Sehir got up very early, and only two or three people had gathered there so far.
Sehir covered some of his clothes with a scarf and stood at the back of the line.
"Hey kid, where did you pick up these clothes? They look pretty good." Suddenly, someone patted Cecil on the shoulder from behind and said.
Sehir's clothes were definitely not something an ordinary person could afford, and he was still here receiving meals. It was no surprise that he had picked up those clothes from somewhere else. The person standing behind Sehir was certain of this.
Sehir grinned awkwardly and mumbled, "To the east."
The man looked at Cecil with gratitude and said, "Thank you! I'll go check on him later."
—
The food distributed today was pretty good: a bottle of milk and a piece of dry bread, which was even packed in a bag, something Sehir hadn't expected at all.
Just as he left the stall, he heard the sound of a piano. Cecil paused for half a second, as he hadn't heard the piano since he left.
Sehir followed the sound and found a crowd gathered there. Peeking inside, he saw that an event was taking place.
There was a sentence written on the sign hanging inside.
"You can win up to one gold coin by participating in the competition!"
?
A note from the author:
A young master is still a young master; a canary can only ever be kept as an ornamental pet.
Chapter Seventy
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the wooden plank inside. The offer was too tempting: one gold coin was enough for them to live on for a week!
Some people who considered themselves to have good artistic talent lined up excitedly to participate in the activities and competitions. Sehir looked at the person sitting on the piano bench, whose gray and black attire seemed out of place with the piano.
Sehir found a relatively quiet spot, squeezed himself inside, and tried to observe the piano's construction as closely as possible.
The person sitting on the piano bench has already started playing. The music is very simple; it's a lullaby that people hear before going to sleep.
There seemed to be a judges' panel set up around them. The people on the panel listened to the music and unconsciously put their hands on their foreheads, not even daring to look up at the person playing the piano.
It seems that the value of the piano was diminished considerably under his playing.
Seeing the reactions of those around him, the person who had been playing happily stopped playing and made several wrong notes.
"Go down! Practice properly before you come back up!"
"Go sell it on the street, stop ruining this elegant stuff here!"
"That's right, let's get out of here! This is so embarrassing!"