Chapter Six: The Black Rose Yet Again

As I sat on the step waiting for the Black Rose as I did every night, I fidgeted impatiently. Normally, he appeared only shortly after I exited the car; at times he even appeared as soon as I did. But tonight he had not appeared at all, and I was sure that I had waited for nearly half an hour.

Perhaps he had simply decided not to come, I thought. But that thought held no strength, for that was not like the Black Rose that I had come to know over the course of the past week. The Black Rose that I knew did not leave something abruptly once he had decided to carry out the task, and he had quite obviously adopted making sure that I returned home safely as a personal task.

Finally, I decided to go looking for him. I doubted that Uncle would—as the Black Rose warned me time and time again—send out people to ensure that I did not return, and I was confident enough after two days of exploring this city that I would not get lost.

I had not, however, anticipated the way that the city seemed completely different in the silent darkness. Even the marketplace, loud and crowded by day, was deserted and silent, and for a moment I failed to recognize it. Darkness did not usually frighten me, but the way that it seemed to transform this entire city was more than unnerving.

I was just considering turning back and forgetting about the Black Rose—he was sure to come tomorrow, after all—when a familiar voice met my ears. I froze. Though I could not make out the words, I was sure that it was the Black Rose's voice. It seemed to becoming from an alley. I hesitated for a moment before I entered.

As I walked down the narrow street, following the voice, I suddenly recognized it. It was the alley that I had entered the day before, on our first day in Genoa, when I was trying to talk sense into the beggar girl. The voice that I followed was now coherent, and the tone was deceptively calm.

"-people. Is that what you want? To live your life pointlessly?"

"I'll do what I like," snapped another familiar voice angrily. I reached the corner at the end of the alley and looked around it. Sure enough, there stood the Black Rose and the beggar girl. "You think you know everything. Well, I'm not listening to you. I know what kind of life is happiest to me, and no one else can."

"Then you actually feel happy begging and drinking all day?" The Black Rose's voice was still calm. I had never known him to grow angry. The girl snorted in response to his words.

"You're saying the same things as that other girl!" she huffed. I felt my face grow pink—I knew that she was talking about me. I wondered if the Black Rose had guessed, but his back was to me and I could not see his face.

"Other girl?" the Black Rose asked, and his tone sounded slightly sharp, but curious at the same time.

"Some blond-haired girl. She followed me here and tried to convince me to start trying to work and lead a more 'purposeful life'." Her tone was mocking. "Well, this life is purposeful enough to me! Don't stick your noses into my business!"

"Why do you prefer drinking?" asked the Black Rose.

"Why do you steal?" countered the girl. The Black Rose chuckled.

"How about this—you tell me why you drink, and then I'll tell you why I steal." I saw the girl scoff.

"I'm not interested." I heard the Black Rose sigh.

"Here." I saw him hold out his hand, and after some hesitation, the girl slowly held out hers. There was a clinking, and I realized that he was handing her coins. She looked shocked. "I've said all I can. The rest is up to you. You can choose to spend these on more drinks, if you like. Or you could choose to use those to help people, or to get yourself a proper meal and proper clothing and then search for a proper job. It's your choice."

I knew that he was going to turn and come back down this alley, and hastily pulled back and searched for a place to hide. Suddenly, I didn't want him to see me. But he turned the corner and, seeing me, stopped in surprise.

"Nadja? What are you doing here?"

"…You were late, and I was a little…" I mumbled my words, and a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me.

"Worried?" His voice was very amused, and I suddenly wished I'd never said anything at all. "You were worried? And here I thought that you'd be happy to see me drop dead."

"Of course not!" He was only teasing and I knew it, but it still was appalling to think that he would think that I would be happy to see him dead. "After all, you have… Well, you've been helping me"-I averted my eyes-"and as much as I hate your stealing, I'd never want to see you dead. I'd never wish anyone dead."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" he said softly, and I looked to him again. He was smiling, and it almost seemed as though he was looking at me affectionately.

"I'm going back to the Troupe," I said suddenly, turning and beginning to walk. I had intended the words to come out angrily, but they were hardly menacing at all. I heard the Black Rose following behind me.

"So, you tried to talk some sense into that girl, too."

"Was that another guess, or have you taken to following me around by daylight also, now?" I was feeling increasingly irritable. There were multiple reasons for it.

For one thing, the Black Rose knew me too well. Of all the people that could have come to learn to read me so well, why did it have to be a despicable thief? And that was another thing—no matter how I called the Black Rose all sorts of names in my mind, I cared about him. Now I thought about it, it had been worry that had driven me to follow him.

And the Black Rose wasn't replying. He knew that I wasn't in a good mood, and that no matter how he replied, I would use it as an excuse to snap at him. At this rate, all I needed was for his reason for stealing to be something that justified it in my mind, and… But what was his reason?

"Why do you steal?" I suddenly stopped and spun around to face him. The question was serious, and I knew that he knew it. He was silent for a few moments, but his eyes remained steadily upon me.

"Because all people, rich and poor, ought to be equal. The rich live their lives without any point day after day, and the poor struggle to survive day after day. Yet the rich continue to gain more money from the poor, and the poor continue to lose more money to the rich. I restore that money to the poor."

"But there are other ways to do that!" I argued. "Nobles often collect money for charity, and there are people like Francis who use their own money as well as collected money to do things for the poor!"

"Francis again, is it?" the Black Rose said mockingly. I stared at him in surprise. He actually sounded angry, and I had never heard him sound that way before. "Know this, Nadja: most of the time, half of the money collected for charity goes to the one who collected it, and only half of it is actually given to the poor. As for this Francis of yours, all he does is hand money down from above! That sort of charity only satisfies the one doing the giving."

"And you're saying that your method is any better? You steal. I've seen nobles you stole from; they were left with wounded pride, and socially lost many friends and allies. Are you saying that a bit of temporary happiness for the poor is worth permanently wounding the rich?" His eyes flashed at my words.

"I should have known that a spoiled noble like yourself wouldn't actually care sincerely for the poor. It's all words to you. After all, after another week you'll be back safe and sound inside your manor, right?" I hadn't anticipated how much those words stung, but was too infuriated to care.

"Don't you presume to know the way I think," I snapped back. "You're just biased in favor of the poor. You don't actually believe in equality!"

"I certainly believe in it more than you appear to," he hissed. "I know more about both nobility and the poor than you do, anyhow."

And then he turned and vanished into the darkness before I could say anything more.