MTO C42

Chapter 42

“What is the child’s name?”

“There isn’t one.”

“…Then who exactly is this child you want me to find?”

“That… I’ll tell you later.”

Could it be… a hidden child of his? The way Michel averted his eyes was suspicious. Kaidan thought he must uncover the Saint’s true intentions—and for that alone, he had to locate this mysterious child.

“Is that your only request?”

“Yes? Yes.”

Kaidan had opened the door, giving him a chance to confess something significant. Yet Michel only blinked owlishly, as vacant as a fool. Could the man truly have forgotten his debt entirely? With not a coin to his name, on what confidence did he refuse to demand gold?

Kaidan’s gaze hardened, but Michel suddenly brightened, nodding as if remembering—

“Thanks to you, today was wonderful.”

The smile was so radiant Kaidan found himself unable to press further.

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

At his command, Lawrence stepped into the study.

“My lord, the Saint has just departed the castle.”

“Good. I was about to call for you anyway.”

Kaidan handed him the crude drawing. For a moment the steward’s perfectly composed face cracked.

“My lord Duke… this picture is—”

“The Saint seeks this child. Post bills around the villages. Promise a heavy reward for anyone who brings word. But listen well: not a scratch must harm the child.”

Still bewildered, Lawrence mastered himself quickly.

“As you command. Any further orders?”

Kaidan hesitated. Was this truly wise? Was he not merely dancing to Michel’s schemes again? And yet… he must know the truth.

“I want a draft for a banknote.”

There are two ways to uncover a man’s true nature:

First—plunge him into unbearable suffering, and see how he reacts.

Second—grant him unexpected fortune, and watch what he becomes.

Michel had already passed the first test. Now Kaidan would give him the second.

For guarding one’s purity in misfortune was far easier than keeping humility amidst abundance. Kaidan could list a dozen “saints” who had crumbled when gold poured into their hands.

What would Michel do when his greatest burden was lifted? When silver poured safely into his purse—would he still resist the temptations that had once owned him?

This would expose the truth at last.

If he survived this test as well… then…

Lawrence departed to prepare the papers. Silence returned to the office.

For the first time in days, the castle felt still. No fool stirring trouble, no need to guard his words at every turn. Work pressed heavily, yes, but his heart for once was unburdened.

Kaidan bent again over documents. He signed petitions, perused shelves of tomes in search of solutions for unresolved problems.

Then, lifting his eyes—he noticed the space.

Wide, vacant space. He had long since removed his father’s gaudy luxuries, leaving the room bare.

And in that moment, fleeting as a wisp—

“….”

He thought, This room is unnecessarily large.

Chapter 4 – New Year’s Day

“Jeong‑oh.”

That day, snow fell in great heavy clumps, larger than fists. It was the eve of Jeong‑oh’s seventh birthday.

His mother bustled early in the morning, waking him. In winter, hot water did not run in the capital—so she boiled a great pot, mixing steaming heat with freezing water until it was just warm enough. Though Jeong‑oh splashed, making frothy mess, she never once scolded.

He put on his cleanest clothes, and together they rode the bus. She said they were going somewhere wonderful. Usually she worked too much to take him anywhere, so excitement soared.

That day, he saw a massive shopping center for the first time. He got new clothes. For lunch, a hamburger meal—unthinkable luxury. They snapped silly sticker photos; she fixed one on the back of her phone.

“Are we rich now?” he asked. She only laughed, kinder than usual, hugging him often. Jeong‑oh wished every day could be like today.

But the best day swiftly twisted into the worst. At evening, they went to a church with a towering, glittering tree.

“From now on, you’ll live here. Look—lots of toys, friends your age. Warm baths. Snacks, every day. Isn’t it nice?”

Compared to their old flat, yes—it was bigger, brighter, warm. But Jeong‑oh hated the distant cries of other children. He hated strange women greeting him.

Above all, he hated that his mother kept letting go of his hand.

“Together, right?”

“Mom can’t live with you anymore.”

He didn’t understand.

“Why?”

“If I stay, life will be too hard for you.”

He shook his head fiercely.

“No.”

“You must mind the nuns.”

“I want to come with you! I don’t want friends. I don’t care if I have cold baths!”

Tears burned—but he swallowed them back. If he cried, she’d abandon him for certain.

When he clung stubbornly, she pulled him tight in one last hug.

“My boy, I love you so very much.”

Relief flooded him. She still loved him. Surely they’d go home together after this joke ended.

She would laugh and apologize. He would pretend to sulk, then forgive her, arms tight around her waist.

“Oh, this is all for you. One day, you’ll understand. I’m so sorry.”

Then suddenly—she shoved him. Hard. He tumbled, struck the floor. Normally at the barest stumble she would rush to him; but this time, even when he cried that it hurt, she never turned back. She fled the doors alone.

Jeong‑oh sprang up, tried to chase. But strange women seized him, arms iron around his shaking body. He screamed, struck them with fists and kicks.

“Sweet child, hush.”

“Let me go! Mom!”

“It’s all right. You’ll be all right.”

“MOM! MOTHER!”

Is this real? Are you truly… leaving me?

Why?

You told me you loved me. Why abandon me?

He never understood. Grown or not, he doubted he ever could.

He loved her. She loved him. So why could they not live together?

“MOTHERRR!”

But no matter how his voice tore the air, she never came back.

His knees pressed together in the carriage, shaking. Not only from the jolts of the forest road. Michel’s heart had thundered without pause since boarding.

“Hello, children—oh, no, um… ‘Have you been well?’ …hah, too forward…”

He rehearsed greetings, muttered to himself, simulating reunion with the orphans. He hadn’t trembled before hundreds of townsfolk. But the thought of those children—his children—made his stomach twist.

He had abandoned the idea of resigning from the orphanage. Instead of begging Kaidan for a replacement director, he’d begged help to search for the dragon.

The decision had come after tormenting thought: he could not leave. Whatever excuse he made, to walk away from that orphanage was to abandon them. He refused abandonment.

Surely they hated him. Perhaps ninety‑nine chances to one. And yet if even a one percent chance remained, he had to try.

Because even if every ill befell them, they must at least believe—the Headmaster would never leave them. That was what he wanted to give, what he had once lost. He wanted them spared that hollow absence.

Someday, perhaps, he would regret this choice. But now—it felt right.

Patience. Approach gently. If they reject, never force.

He repeated that vow, over and over, steadying himself.

Through the window, the trees broke, and a familiar building appeared. His courage shrank to a pea.

They’ll be disappointed…

But before panic could overwhelm, the orphanage door burst open. Shapes poured out, running.

He pressed his face to the glass.

“Charlotte? Dan? Max? …eh?!”

The closer they came, the clearer the faces grew. Little bodies. Familiar. Beloved.

The orphans he knew—running to meet him.