The Porter Is Not Interested in the Hero Party

132 – Interlude (4)

The shelter of the Hero party was a little far from the barracks.

Because of this, privacy was guaranteed.

Men and women were separate, so there was a separate tent for the porters to sleep in.

Both tents were a bit thicker than the other barracks, so sound insulation was good.

The bed creaked, and excited sighs spread through the barracks. Lena was humming along with her head propped against the edge of the bed, while the porter was lying sideways next to her, staring at the ceiling.

He glanced at Lena. After leading the porter to the barracks to do something fun, she did nothing but hum. The porter just lay down next to her listening to the song.

“Well?”

The porter raised his head at the sudden sound of flesh hitting. It was because Lena was beckoning to the porter by tapping her thigh. The porter shook his head and said.

“it’s okay. Not a kid.”

“You’re right. mister.”

“How old am I? Even at this party, I am in charge of being an adult.”

“Ah, don’t do that.”

She grinned and slapped his thigh once more, and the porter reluctantly pulled himself up and put his head on her thigh. She was a person who never stopped training, so her thighs were strengthened for an instant, and then she shook the porter’s head with the elasticity of a pillow filled with contents.

The hair and bare skin were intertwined, making strange noises as they rubbed against each other, and when looking from the side, Lena’s white skin stood out between the porter’s hair. In that state, Lena raised her hand toward the porter’s head.

Then, slowly, he tucked his hair behind his ear, stroked it, and started humming again.

It was a melody very unfamiliar to the porter. The melody, as if coming from an exotic music box, made him drowsy along with the languid air of the tent. Coming out of his faintly dimmed consciousness, he blinked and looked into the room again clearly.

Lena was still humming a melody, and the porter’s hair was neat as it was in the days of the Knights. Lena closed her eyes and slowly ran her finger around the porter’s temple.

“Is this a song from the kingdom? The melody is unfamiliar.”

Lena opened her eyes and lowered her head. The porter fixed his gaze on the entrance of the tent, not making eye contact with her face between his breasts.

“It’s a popular song in the slums. Call me because I like the melody.”

“I want to hear the lyrics too.”

At the porter’s words, Lena laughed strangely. And he even said:

“really? I’m not the type to sing that well.”

“It was nice to hear the hum. I wanted to hear him sing along with the lyrics.”

“Ah, it’s embarrassing… … .”

Lena cleared her throat, nodded, and carefully opened her mouth. As soon as the usual cheerful and clear tone started riding the rhythm, it became like a lark.

“A boat by the river

The boy with the wallet is chasing

The road between the forests is dark

The boat doesn’t stop-“

The porter focused his gaze on the bonfire visible beyond the entrance to the tent. A faint smell of burning firewood wafting through the wind. And the warmth and relaxed atmosphere that filled the room kept making my mind drowsy. Lena’s song, the warm colors in the room, everything felt like a ploy to put him to sleep.

“The beast roars and the sun goes down

The boy with the wallet is chasing

The road between the forests is dark

The side boat doesn’t stop – oops… … .”

Perhaps I fell asleep without realizing it, so I turned my head and kissed Lena’s lap. Startled by the gentle touch, he turned his head to find Lena wiggling her fingers with her gaze directed toward the ceiling, while the shy porter cleared his throat as if nothing had happened.

“More, it’s hot… … .”

Lena said that and laughed again. As he said, the heat in the room turned around and it was hot. It could have been because the two of them had been outside in the cold air. The porter nodded and said.

“….Song. Please keep calling.”

“Oh, oh, yes. Song. Yes.”

Startled, Lena shook her head vigorously, as if she understood something, and fanned her hand through her hair. She turned her gaze around and took a deep breath until her chest swelled, then started singing again in a steady voice.

“In the deep forest where you can see the stars

The boy with the wallet is being chased

It’s dark on the way back

I can’t see the side boat-“

“…It’s a dark song.”

“So I like it. Humming this song in the alley will liven up the atmosphere.”

Lena stopped singing and nodded. When the porter pondered over the lyrics, it was a very gloomy song. Since the boy with the wallet is being chased, what kind of ending awaits? The porter nodded and said.

“It’s a story of losing everything while moving toward a false dream.”

Lena shook her head and smiled.

“No, just. It’s a song with a lesson to not go to unfamiliar places no matter who flirts with you. There are no children in the slums, so children without stomachs are seen as prey.”

Then she put her hand on the porter’s head again. And he said slowly.

“By the way, the uncle’s interpretation was also fun. What a futile dream. The ghetto people really hated that.”

“What dream are you talking about?”

said Lena.

“You have a ridiculous story. A story about a child who grew up in a slum and wants to become a millionaire or a general who will rule the world. People in the neighborhood used to laugh at kids who said such things or beat them to stop talking nonsense. I must have thought you were making fun of me.”

“They were bad adults.”

“I couldn’t afford it. To the extent that I cannot accept such words. I didn’t like them too much. Oh, I’m not saying I was right. I’ve been in the black society since I was young. When they saw me, they greeted me 90 degrees.”

The porter imagined older adults greeting little Lena. When little Lena spreads her arms and shouts ‘Applause!’, people bow their heads and bow as if they met a king.

I laughed because it was an absurd imagination.

Lena saw the porter smiling and poked his temple with her finger.

“Wow, are you laughing? too much. really.”

“Oh, oh, oh, I see. I won’t laugh Stop poking your temples with precision. Is it an occupational disease?”

Lena shrugged at the porter’s words and looked at her fingers. Then he shook his head and said.

“Ah, I don’t have that kind of habit, do I? Uncle, that’s prejudice, prejudice. yes?”

And Lena’s hand aimed at the porter’s side this time. The porter, suddenly caught in the gap, cowered and giggled again. Lena raised an eyebrow when she noticed that the porter was being tickled, then stopped playing and began to brush her hair again.

The porter looked at the tent entrance and said.

“thank you.”

Lena smiled and looked in the same direction as the porter. At first glance, the tree was shaking its branches like a hand and shedding its leaves. Lena asked the porter.

“What?”

“I feel a little relieved. He said he does something fun, so I thought of some kind of game or play. This is fun too.”

“right? do nothing.”

The wind blew. A well-timed breeze scattered the warm heat and the smell of dry firewood. said Lena.

“I hated the people in the slums, but I also felt a bit pitiful. Because I can’t afford it. You don’t take those comments as a joke because you think too much. If you think about it, everyone is like that. If you can’t afford it, no matter what you see, you’ll think bad thoughts and say bad things again. I mean, he only thinks of bad things and puts on a sad face right away.”

Lena patted the porter’s head leisurely and said.

“I hope you think only good things sometimes.”

And she smiled and lowered her head. The porter closed his eyes and fell asleep. Lena cautiously reached out to the porter’s face. From the eyes to the bridge of the nose, and the rough beard and soft lips. sharp jawline.

Touching it with my fingertips to the end, I felt the warmth, hesitated and tried to bend down, then shook my head and raised my body again. Then, he carefully brought his fingers to his mouth, still reminiscent of his scent, and dyed his face like a blush.

The voices of the hero, Ashuria, and Millet could be heard from afar. The three of them were away on business for a while. Lena reached over and pulled the blanket over the porter.

Footsteps and clamor of words approach.

Lena listened to the silhouette reflected in the tent and the squabbling conversation.

“So, is it better to dip the bread in the soup than to eat it?”

“Even in the scriptures there are scenes of saints dipping and eating bread. millet. What do you think of Millet?”

Millet popped out of the shadows and said, looking at Lena and the porter.

“uh? Are you two sleeping?”

“yes?”

“uh?”

The two people, who had been walking leisurely, came running without saying anything first and peered into the tent. Lena covered her mouth with her hand, grinned, stroked the porter’s head, and raised her finger.

“Shh.”