MTO C15

Chapter 15

“Taekwon! Hello, everyone! We are a Taekwondo demonstration team from the Valois Orphanage. Today we have prepared a wonderful performance for you all. Please look forward to it!”

The moment Michel finished his prepared words, he flung off his monk’s robe.

“Oh, heavens!”

“Hah! A priest’s corruption—now this is worth watching!”

“What did he just say? Taegun… Taekwon… huh?”

“Who cares! Woo! Take off some more, why don’t you!”

Even though he wore a shirt and trousers beneath, the crowd reacted as if he were putting on a scandalous strip show. At some point, David had closed his eyes and muttered incoherently, sounding like he was praying. Ignoring him, Michel pressed a wooden board he had readied earlier into David’s hands.

“Hold this tightly! No matter what happens, you must not let go!”

After giving his stern instructions, Michel leapt down from the stage. With David already tall and standing atop the table, the board in his grasp looked as though it was hanging from the heavens themselves.

Michel gauged the distance, then tied on the blindfold. His heart pounded furiously.

Not a single day had he skipped training since awakening in this world. Yet it was impossible to rebuild nearly twenty years of martial conditioning in only a handful of weeks. When he had practiced alone that morning, success had only been half certain at best.

There would be only one chance.

Could this body do it?

No—he must succeed.

“Kiyaaa!!”

Michel shouted a fierce kihap, stamped the ground, and hurled himself up. As his legs extended forward, the familiar sensation of floating force overtook him. Twisting his hips in midair, he felt the wind whistle past his ears.

CRACK!

A sharp, satisfying rupture split through his eardrums. A sting in his heel reverberated, then earth caught him again. A joyous thrill raced across his body.

It worked.

Certain of his success, Michel pulled away the blindfold. Yet the sight before him did not match what he had expected.

Every onlooker gaped frozen, like dinosaurs meeting an ice age. The noisy tavern fell silent, as though doused in cold water.

Did I mess it up?

He turned frantically to David, but the board in his grip was perfectly split in two. Still uncertain, Michel bowed toward the hushed audience.

“W…Woooaaahhh!!”

Thankfully, the silence did not last. From the hush erupted thunderous roars of applause and cheers, greater than before.

“I must be drunk out of my mind. I just saw a priest take flight!”

“I saw it too! By the gods, what on earth did he just do?”

“Was that magic? A human leg could really split like that?!”

The audience was ablaze with excitement over the world’s first Taekwondo performance in this land. Everyone shouted over one another, eager to tell what they had witnessed.

Michel, thrilled, bounded back onto the stage. David, still clutching the shattered remains, sputtered like a broken puppet.

“S-s-s-Saint, wh-what in the world did you just—”

“David. From now on, collect the donations.”

“Eh?”

“Hurry!”

Half-stunned, David descended with a vacant expression, leaving Michel alone at center stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your offerings will greatly aid in the future operation of the Valois Orphanage. We humbly ask for your support!”

Afterward Michel launched into various other demonstrations. With his body still lacking in refinement, he could not manage more flashy aerial feats, but it made no matter. Once the people had seen him soaring through the air and splintering wood, they could not take their eyes off him. Even the most basic poomsae^1 forms drew wild cheers.

“If a man caught a kick from him, he’d sober up instantly!”

“Most knights would see their mothers after one blow like that!”

Those already tipsy chose to laugh and revel in the novelty rather than question it. When Michel finished with one final kick and bowed, customers rushed to toss coins upon the table.

The young waiter darted about beaming ear to ear as he gathered coins, while David stood frozen like a statue with his broken board.

When Michel stepped down, a crowd swarmed around him, thrusting out hands for handshakes from every direction. He gratefully took each in his own.

“Please continue to support the Valois Orphanage in the days to come!”

“Valois! Valois! Valois!”

The chanting of the townsfolk filled his ears, and Michel smiled brilliantly. For the time being, the children would not need to fear hunger. He still faced a mountain of problems ahead, but at least one urgent fire had been put out.

“Sister.”

Barbara, pacing near the window, felt a faint tug at her sleeve and lowered her gaze. The twin brothers stood side by side, looking up at her. She crouched down so her eyes met theirs.

“Dan, Max. What’s wrong?”

“We’re hungry.”

The boys rubbed their stomachs with both hands. Even though this morning’s meal had been richer than usual, it had been only a single meal. Now, having eaten nothing since, they were bound to hunger again.

The children, who had long endured hunger as a constant companion, bore sparse hair, sunken eyes, and wasted frames so thin that bones jutted starkly beneath skin. Barbara stroked their heads with sorrowful affection.

“The Director will return soon with food. Let’s wait just a little longer, shall we?”

“Did the Director really meet God?”

The boy’s guileless question robbed Barbara of an immediate reply. Her throat clogged as if filled with mud.

“Is God watching us right now too?”

Thankfully, the other brother followed with another question, saving her from the awkward moment. Barbara forced a smile.

“Of course. God is always watching over Dan and Max.”

“Can I meet God too someday?”

“If you pray diligently, He will surely reveal Himself to you one day.”

At that, one child clasped his hands tightly and shut his eyes. Soon after, the other imitated his brother’s praying posture.

Watching their tiny hands pressed together in fervent faith, Barbara felt a chill prick her chest. She had spoken with such confident authority, yet the truth was that she herself had never once beheld God’s form.

“Please, Sister, you must eat as well. If you are healthy, then the children can stay strong.”

How long had it been since she had felt the sensation of being full? Why, only this morning she too had enjoyed a satisfying breakfast alongside the children. Michel had refused to let her decline, pressing the spoon firmly into her hand.

When she first heard he had become a saint, Barbara had—blasphemously—resented God. Out of the countless souls available, why would He appoint such a villain as His agent? She had neither the will nor the heart to accept it.

But when Michel knelt down and asked the children’s names, she had repented of her doubt. The man who had returned from death really did seem reborn anew.

His words, his expressions, even the gestures of his body had all fundamentally changed. Barbara had for the first time in many years lifted a prayer of genuine gratitude.

“Do you know how much budget remains for the orphanage, Sister?”

“…The finances have always been overseen by the Director.”

Why, then, at that moment had she failed to speak the truth? At the very height of joy, she had discovered a lingering seed of suspicion still rooted within her.

On the eve of Saint Pablo’s birthday, Michel had suddenly stormed into the orphanage.

“There’s no way we’d be out of money on the holy day!”

“I swear, not a coin remains! You know that the Eglence ducal family cut off their support!”

“You fools! Ha! So you wish me dead? You think I’d die alone? If you don’t hand over your hidden stash right now, I’ll kill you all myself!”

This was hardly the first time Michel flew into rages demanding money. Though he had always hoarded the donations himself, he still raved that Barbara and the children were secretly holding wealth from him. Barbara actually had concealed coins buried in the backyard as emergency funds, so his suspicions were not entirely false.

But that day, Michel had seemed different—chased, frantic, afraid. He tore through even the children’s quarters, normally too filthy for his feet, and cursed wildly against the newly installed Duke of Eglence before fleeing hastily.

And a week later… he had returned as a saint.

“Now, children, go play for a while.”

Barbara soothed the twins away and turned back toward the window. She had told them Michel would be back soon, but as his return grew later, certainty waned and her doubts swelled unbearably.

What if this entire thing is just a cruel play?

Perhaps Michel had never died from lightning and never become a saint. Perhaps the knight he brought was only a nameless actor.

The Michel she knew was a man who used endless threats, lies, and violence to seize money. Perhaps he was only staging all this in order to uncover the hidden emergency funds.

I was too naive.

Within the familiar waves of despair, Barbara felt a whisper of relief: at least he had not discovered the hiding place. That money was the bare minimum for the children’s survival this winter.

God does not love liars. Each passing day Barbara felt more and more distant from His path, yet she had no idea how to return to it. How could she turn away from children dying before her eyes, even if that meant robbing them of an early glorious death and entry into Heaven’s highest halls?

She stepped away from the window. At dawn she would have to go into the village to find some food, no matter what.

“Oh? Fire!”

But the boy’s soft cry froze her feet. Looking again outside, Barbara saw a flicker of red light moving through the forest—coming closer, toward the orphanage.

Footnotes for Readers

1. Poomsae (품새) – Set forms or patterns in Taekwondo, practiced routines of strikes, blocks, and kicks. Even basic forms appear extraordinary to untrained spectators. 
2. Saint Pablo – Honored religious figure. His birthday is celebrated as a holy festival.