MTO C22

Chapter 22

At Usung Taekwondo Gym, every winter season, Master Usung took the children to sledding slopes for field trips. It was an event as wildly popular with them as the point‑market reward days. Even the kids who dragged their feet during taekwondo classes flew about with joy at sled hill, like fish released into water.

So Michel naturally expected the Valois Orphanage children would love snow games too. Even though they usually drifted through the halls silently like little ghosts, once outside surely they would laugh, run, yell. And he wanted that—because he knew children grew strong by laughing loudly and running freely.

Part of him also wanted—before he was dragged off to Eglence Castle—to grow just a little closer to them.

Maybe… maybe they just feel awkward outdoors?

The children of the orphanage had learned to erase their presence all their lives. Especially Oliver and Alice—being older, they must have mastered early the art of staying unnoticed. They were taught to read scriptures, to write their letters—but never how to play.

Still, children learn fast. If they didn’t know how to play, showing them would be enough.

“Valois Orphanage children, gather up!”

At Michel’s loud cry, the children who’d been scattered aimlessly across the snowy yard reluctantly trotted back to him. Even Oliver and Alice inched forward hesitantly.

They framed themselves up into little ranks without being taught, which moved Michel deeply. At the taekwondo gym, getting kids to line up without promising point‑rewards had been nearly impossible.

Michel grinned as he looked down at the eager, round faces staring back.

“From now on, I declare the First Valois Orphanage Snowball Fight open!”

Rules always gave kids more freedom to have fun. Before beginning, Michel established a few.

“This game is simple. Two teams. Capture the other team’s flag to win. Three snowball hits, and you’re out! Because this is for children, the adults cannot capture flags or throw at you—only protect you or make snowballs. Adults cannot be eliminated either. That’s that! Any questions?”

Charlotte, bouncing in place until her twin braids bobbed like springs, waved her hand.

“Yes, Charlotte?”

“How do we decide teams?”

“We’ll split into Headmaster Team and Knight Team. Who wants to join my side?”

Charlotte raised her hand again, and Michel spread his arms wide to welcome her.

“Then I’ll take the twins,” said David, already tousling Dan and Max’s hair roughly. The twins seemed actually pleased at being paired with the tall, strong knight.

“And as for…”

Michel’s gaze fell on Oliver and Alice. Alice startled like a rabbit, eyes round, but Oliver stepped forward.

“I’ll take Headmaster’s team.”

“Will you, now? Then Oliver and Leon with me, Alice with the knight. What do you say?”

Alice looked ready to burst into tears, staring at Oliver for help. He patted her shoulder calmly, reassuring. Michel’s feelings grew conflicted as he watched—this felt uncomfortably like cruelty.

But Alice managed to stifle her tears, and Leon didn’t care with whom he was placed, as long as he got to play. Meanwhile Barbara, coming out late, accepted the role of judge.

Before the match, there was prep time. Adults flipped over wagons and barrels for cover; the children hunched down to roll snowballs. Michel proudly displayed his prowess by rolling five in the time it took the kids to make one.

Even while keeping his hands busy, he kept an eye on Oliver. While Charlotte and Leon pressed furiously with flushed concentration, Oliver’s hands moved almost not at all—his worried eyes fixed unwaveringly on the enemy lines.

Michel felt the impulse to tease.

“So Oliver—what exactly do you like about Alice?”

“…Excuse me?”

Oliver looked up, baffled. Michel waddled closer, smirking.

“You like Alice, don’t you?”

“Wha—where did that come from?!”

Oliver sprang back as if kicked. Michel wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“So you don’t like her?”

Oliver’s lips moved, but no words came. Slowly his face reddened like a ripening apple. Michel chuckled inwardly—so predictable. Boys playing the big brother in front of a girl their age always wanted to look cool for their crush.

“You’re not planning to throw the game just because she’s on the other side, are you? Then Charlotte and Leon would be disappointed.”

“No!”

Oliver shouted it, the first time he had ever raised his voice at Michel. The sound warmed him—showing emotion meant growing comfortable.

“But can you actually bring yourself to throw a snowball at Alice?”

Michel caught his hesitation. He leaned in and whispered, “You don’t need to fight Alice. I’ll make sure our team wins.”

He winked with supposed reassurance. But Oliver frowned. Still, Michel laid out the simple strategy for him, until Oliver reluctantly nodded.

When the “war council” ended, the children crouched behind their cover. Barbara checked both sides, then cupped her hands like a horn.

“You may begin!”

The battle of snow erupted across the peaceful yard.

Michel narrowed his eyes, watching. David’s red hair peeked over a barrel, but he didn’t move. Of course—no one rushed recklessly first.

Someone had to make that first bold dash.

Michel clapped Oliver’s shoulder.

“Let’s go!”

He charged with a loud battle cry. The enemy leapt out and lobbed snowballs. Most fell short, but one struck Michel squarely in the chest.

That one had a rock inside? He groaned against the dull sting, but pressed on to the overturned cart ahead.

“Now kids, out!”

“Yaaah!”

Charlotte and Leon leapt from behind his back. The tactic was simple but already proven—called the Crane Wing Formation.

“Waugh!”

With all eyes caught on Michel, they hadn’t seen the two children flank. Snowballs flew wildly. Barbara declared crisply:

“Dan eliminated! Charlotte eliminated too!”

“Nooo!”

“Oliver, now!”

On Michel’s cue, Oliver sprinted to the enemy lines, ducking cover to slip unseen right up to the flag.

But there stood—Alice. Arms spread, guarding it alone.

Oliver froze, face flushed darker still. No matter how Michel screamed for him, Oliver didn’t move a muscle.

“Alice, attack!”

David barreled forward carrying Max under one arm. At his call, Alice—hesitant but dutiful—hurled a snowball. Oliver only stood and let it strike him. Michel stifled a laugh.

So you’re a knight in love, eh?

Max let rip his stash of snowballs next; they pelted Oliver.

“Oliver eliminated!”

Charlotte wailed in despair. At once David turned and thundered toward Michel’s flag. Max ripped it up triumphantly.

The first round went to David’s team.

“Alice, splendid! First‑rate defense.”

David’s praise tinted her cheeks red as Oliver’s.

“It’s fine, kids. That was only round one. The comeback is always more exciting!” Michel encouraged gloom‑drooping faces and quickly devised a new plan. Attack clearly wasn’t Oliver’s forte, so they would shift to defense. They’d hide and pummel any who approached.

“Oliver, pay attention this time. Do it properly!” Charlotte scolded sharply. Oliver sulked and nodded. Michel smothered laughter.

Soon Barbara’s hand dropped again.

“Ready? Then… begin!”

“Advance!”

“Yaaaaah!”

At the horn, David burst out cradling both twins like under his arms, dashing forward at obscene speed. The children’s panicked snows were easily dodged.

“Cheating!” Charlotte screamed, stomping in fury. Max cheekily hurled a snowball while sticking out his tongue. Dan, however, looked ready to vomit from the ride.

“Master, quick!” Oliver begged, clutching Michel’s sleeve when their pre‑rolled pile started to vanish.

The boy who once avoided the game was now throwing himself into it with desperate joy. Michel pressed more ammo into his arms.

“Alice, come help too,” David called, summoning her with armloads of snow.

Charlotte and Leon took the chance when the twins were dropped to pepper them.

“Charlotte eliminated! And—Dan! And Leon as well—out!” Barbara declared.

Yet none of them cared anymore. Rules dissolved. Every child pelted everyone in sight. Their rosy flushed faces beamed, voices booming as they shouted one another’s names.

Michel, caught up fully, plunged a shovel into drifts piled by the wall. Swinging it, he cast showers of snow high into the air, scattering like stardust over the children’s heads.

They collapsed in giggling heaps, rolling about, laughter bright as pearls. Not glancing over their shoulders or suppressing a squeak, they shone brighter than the snowfall itself. Michel’s heart swelled.

“Who the hell said that?!”

The sudden roar of a filthy curse shattered the moment. Children, mid‑chase and panting with joy, froze stiff.

Michel raised his eyes. A gang of rough men swaggered arrogantly across the orphanage yard.