Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking

"…Although I really don't want to say this as a physician, Oleg's situation is not looking optimistic."

Natasha, visibly exhausted, rubbed her aching temples as her gaze returned to the man still lying on the operating table.

His skin was a deep tan, and he appeared to be around fifty. His body, muscular and well-defined like a sculpture, was now covered in scars and bloodstains, the worst being a puncture wound on his abdomen.

Natasha could only bandage the wound to stop the bleeding, but the rest would be up to his own resilience.

If it weren't for Venti discreetly using some power to dispel the crystallized elements embedded in his bones, aiding his recovery, he'd be left with lasting damage—or worse, he might not have survived at all.

Now, slipping into a dreamlike state, free from immediate danger, was the best outcome anyone could hope for.

Though Natasha had her suspicions, she didn't dwell on them. She only muttered quietly, "More importantly, with this battle, the clinic's medicine stock is critically low. If we don't restock soon, many of them could end up with permanent injuries."

While Bronya was still processing the meaning behind her words, Seele clenched her fists beside her, a flash of resentment in her eyes as she hissed,

"Damn it, if it wasn't for that group refusing to listen and mining recklessly, we wouldn't have triggered the tunnel collapse and attracted those monsters from the Rift."

"That group?"

Venti, who was about to head out to fetch medicine, paused to ask, sensing there was more to this than just a mining accident.

"Who else could it be? Those pathetic cowards who only know how to pick on their own kind!"

Seele's frustration bubbled over, her words laced with vulgar slang unique to the Underworld.

"Where'd they even get explosives with that kind of power?"

"I don't know. Those makeshift bombs were unstable, not only taking down half their people but nearly burying our leader and the negotiation team under the mines."

Agitated, she raked her fingers through her hair, frustration clear at not being there to intervene.

"I was lucky to be outside at the time, so I avoided the blast. But the noise drew monsters right to us, and, well, here we are."

Seele rattled off her explanation swiftly. Though lacking in details, it was enough for those present to piece together the situation.

"…I see. Quite a day," Venti murmured with a sigh.

"This isn't right! I need to go give them a piece of my mind!"

Seele's anger flared again, and she grabbed her scythe, ready to storm back to the Marauder's camp for revenge.

"Seele, wait!"

Natasha stopped her, knowing Seele wouldn't dismiss her so easily and that she'd likely listen to reason if Natasha spoke.

"Right now, the priority isn't to seek revenge on those who also suffered losses. It's to find enough medical supplies to treat everyone."

Natasha's tone was stern.

"But…they have supplies," Seele muttered, reluctant but aware of the logic.

"And doing that would make you no different from them."

Natasha's voice was even firmer.

"But—!"

Seele bit back her frustration, feeling stifled yet unable to out-argue Natasha, who had years of learning on her side. Glancing over at Venti, she signaled for him to chime in.

Instead, Bronya, who'd been silent, spoke up.

"Excuse me, may I say something?"

"And who are you?"

"Uh…we just talked earlier?"

"Who cares about that? I mean, where did you come from—the Robot Settlement, another stray group, or…are you from the Upper District?"

This struck a nerve, as Bronya stiffened, adamantly denying it.

Seele, however, noticed the flicker of unease in Bronya's expression.

In the past, she'd made the same face when trying to lie her way out of trouble with the boss or Natasha.

Now, an Upper District resident showing up at such a convenient time, dressed down to blend in, was undeniably suspicious.

"Not from there? Then why so tense?"

Seele's expression darkened, and the scythe she weighed in her hands only emphasized her readiness to act if Bronya's answer wasn't satisfactory.

Bronya didn't bring her custom sniper rifle this time, not that it would've helped much in close quarters like this.

As the tension in the air thickened, Natasha turned to Venti. She trusted him; this girl had come here with him.

If Venti vouched for her, she'd extend her trust as well.

As the others looked to Venti, he finally stepped in, shrugging as he spoke.

"Natasha's right; we need to focus on helping the wounded, not wasting time on suspicion."

Seeing Venti's stance, Seele reluctantly softened but still muttered, "Sure, but what if she's a spy from the Upper District…"

"I am not!"

Bronya finally exploded, having had enough of the baseless accusations.

Her outburst drew everyone's attention, and she instinctively pressed her lips together, holding Seele's challenging gaze with defiance.

Seele, never one to back down, glared back with a look that said, If you want a fight, I'm game.

The tension would have continued if Venti hadn't stepped between them, cutting off their heated stares.

Natasha took this chance to ask, "Venti, who exactly is she?"

"She's Bronya. A…"

He stretched the silence, pretending to mull it over. Natasha gave him a reproachful look until he finally laughed and said, "A well-meaning person, much like me, here to help the Underworld."

"That's all?"

Seele still had doubts, prompting Venti to add,

"Fine, if you must know, she's also the heir of the Supreme Guardian, way above my rank, here to understand life down here for the betterment of the Underworld's future."

"And you think I'm a fool? Those pampered up-tops wouldn't care about us outcasts!"

Seele scoffed.

Bronya felt a mix of relief at not having her identity exposed but also guilt and helplessness at the disdain for the Supreme Guardian that had taken root here.

The Underworld had long lost faith in the Upper District, viewing them as indifferent to their suffering—resentment that wasn't without reason.

"Well, who's to say? Maybe she came on a whim!"

The mischievous bard grinned. "And let's be honest, Seele, you may be clumsy, book-shy, and overly serious, but you have the courage to admit your flaws. I find that pretty endearing."

"Wh-who are you calling endearing?! You smooth-talking singer!"

Seele's cheeks reddened, but she struggled to hide her embarrassment as she retorted.

"And don't think I missed that jab at me being dumb!"

Bronya watched their bickering with a hint of jealousy, her gaze resting on the bard with faint annoyance.

There he went, causing trouble and resolving it on his own, making everyone else fret for no reason.

He'd once praised her name, always finding words to flatter.

Yet, since they arrived here, he'd barely spoken to her, busying himself with others as if he'd forgotten his role as her guide—not that she was surprised he had such a nickname.

"Hmm? That look in your eyes, it's really annoying! If you're done, would you mind leaving already?" Seele turned her frustration toward Bronya, easily stirred by a few words.

"Why are you always targeting me!"

Just as another argument seemed inevitable, a cold stare froze them both, their heads turning in unison toward its source.

Natasha wore a faint smile, yet it was anything but comforting.

"Since you three have so much energy to argue in the clinic, disturbing the other patients, would you mind using that energy to go fetch some medical supplies for me?"

The request left no room for debate. Even Venti, the instigator of the commotion, didn't dare stir the pot further.

Once outside, the three exchanged looks, with Seele huffing as she stood beside Venti, making Bronya grit her teeth.

Seele, in her effort to show how close they were, took up her place at Venti's side, brushing against his shoulder. Bronya barely kept her composure.

Sensing the rising tension, the troubled bard quickly stepped forward to lead the way.