MTO C53

Chapter 53

Michel struggled to open his eyes. Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, heating his face.

“Ugh…”

He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and noticed his cheek was damp. Sniffling, he realized his nose was stuffed, as if he had been crying in his sleep. He must have dreamed something, though he couldn’t recall what. From the tears, perhaps it had been unbearably sad—yet he also felt refreshed, as if he had slept deeply.

So why is it so hot…?

Rolling his gaze downward, he saw a fluffy pink head nestled firmly against his chest.

“Leon?”

He shook the boy slightly, but Leon didn’t stir, as if unconscious. Michel’s heart lurched until he heard the comforting rumble of a child’s snore.

And it wasn’t just Leon. All over the bed, the orphans had sprawled around him in random poses, fast asleep. Carefully, Michel sat up and shifted Leon beside him—none stirred. Each slept soundly, even in awkward, uncomfortable positions.

Looking around, he confirmed it was his own room. Then why were all the children here? Their gentle snores filled the air. It felt… strange. Comforting. So much that he almost wanted to fall asleep again himself.

Then it struck him—Where was Heart?

He counted. Six small bodies. Not seven. Memories of the serpent fight replayed vividly. He jerked as if to rise—just as the door opened.

“S‑Saint is—oh!”

Clash!

Barbara, stepping inside with a tray, dropped it in shock upon meeting his open eyes. The racket made the children twitch.

Alice woke first. Rubbing her eyes, half‑asleep, she spotted Michel upright and gasped.

“Oliver, Charlotte, everyone, wake up! The Headmaster’s awake!”

Scrambling, the others roused. Their grumpiness vanished the moment they confirmed the news.

“Headmaster?”

“It’s true! He’s awake! Are you still sick? Are you okay?”

“You still feel hot! No more fever, right?”

“Kids, calm down—he’s still a patient!”

Even as Barbara flustered, the children clambered onto the bed. Michel simply smiled, wrapping them into a soft embrace.

“I’m fine, Sister.”

“You… you really are?”

“Of course.”

He presented his forehead. One by one, small maple-leaf hands patted his brow, playing doctor. Charlotte in particular looked grim with seriousness—until she found no fever, then broke into radiant laughter.

“Was I that hot?”

“Yes! That’s why, um—the Duke said we have to tell him immediately if you burn up again.”

Charlotte chirped, still perched in his lap. At that, Michel finally raised his eyes. Kaidan and David stood at the doorway, silent sentinels.

“Kai…dan, Brother.”

It felt odd. That simple wooden frame was too small for him somehow. Not Eglence Castle, but a humble orphanage bedroom. Of course—Michel himself had invited him.

Kaidan entered at last.

“I’d like a private word with the Saint.”

“Children, come.” Barbara beckoned. But the orphans clung tight, unwilling to leave. Especially Charlotte and Leon, burrowing further into Michel’s arms despite his gentle reassurance.

In the end, David scooped them up by either arm.

“Look, the eagle’s flying~ Whoosh—!”

“Waaah! Noo! I don’t want to!”

“Headmaaaaster!”

Their cries echoed until the door closed. Kaidan let out a baffled, almost exasperated sigh.

“Sent him as a guard—and he’s become a perfect nursemaid.”

“…The children adore him,” Michel chuckled weakly.

Kaidan took the edge of the bed, fixing him with an unblinking gaze.

“How is your body?”

“Mm… I feel fine. Did I sleep long?”

“You were unconscious four days.”

“…What?”

Four days? Could a man sleep that long? Suddenly he understood the children’s commotion. If he were them, he too would never let an orphan stir from such a coma without clinging tight. Michel felt a pang of guilt for pushing them away too harshly.

“Permit me.”

His guilt paused when Kaidan pressed a hand lingering on his brow. Michel flinched at the chill. Unlike children’s warm palms, Kaidan’s touch was icy and oddly soothing. Goosebumps trailed, but he secretly welcomed it.

Cool…

The hand moved again, checking at forehead, then nape. Michel wondered if such fuss was necessary, but Kaidan’s solemn expression stopped him from protesting. He struggled not to sneeze—it tickled like feathers tracing over skin.

He’d rarely fallen ill. To now be treated so tenderly felt strange, like becoming a helpless child. And oddly, not unpleasant.

“Brother… why so formal? There’s no one here.”

Kaidan’s hand twitched ever so slightly—though his face stayed stony.

“Showing due respect to a Saint.”

“But… why keep up the act even now?”

Since the beginning, Michel knew Kaidan had never fully accepted him as Saint. How could he, when his saintly image contrasted so sharply from reality? In public, Kaidan was rigidly polite—but Michel never blamed him for his doubt.

Yet now, abruptly: “At all times, a Saint is still a Saint. My previous behavior was discourteous. Forgive me.”

Michel blinked. A sudden change like this… wasn’t it said that when men change overnight, they’re about to die? But it was Michel who nearly died, not Kaidan. The sheer suddenness of his concession was more terrifying than pleasing.

“Couldn’t you just talk like before? I prefer that.”

“…You’ll get used to it.”

“No. Please.”

He shook his head vigorously. After a silence, Kaidan coughed low.

“If that’s the Saint’s wish.”

“It is.”

Michel raised a hand as if sealing a vow. Kaidan grimaced faintly.

“…Still a slight fever.”

“That? Just heat.” Michel grinned.

Kaidan sighed, lifting his robe without warning. A heavy bandage bound his shoulder—the site where venom had struck.

“How reckless. Fighting a naga bare‑handed. A few breaths slower and you’d have died.”

Harsh words, blunt as blades. But Michel found them more comfortable than over‑polite reverence.

“Naga?”

“That serpent monster.”

“So that’s what it’s called.” Michel rubbed his chin sheepishly.

“I wasn’t really thinking… it just happened.”

Kaidan’s face darkened at the answer—clearly not acceptable.

“…The beast was attacking a child. I only—oh! Did you see? A boy with black hair and red eyes? Heart? You brought him back, right?”

“Yes. He’s safe. So lie still.”

Michel tried to rise, but Kaidan’s hand on his thigh pinned him back.

“Was he hurt? Is he alright?”

“Thanks to you.”

Only then did Michel relax fully, sinking back into the sheets.

Kaidan poured water into a cup and held it to him. Michel drank greedily, realizing how parched he’d been. When he drained it, Kaidan wordlessly refilled.

Michel glanced up at the silent caretaker.

“You stayed all four days?”

“Yes.”

The obvious question Why? rose—but Michel didn’t ask.

“Busy as you are, you still came. Thank you. Truly… you saved my life.”

It wasn’t empty words. Without Kaidan’s sword, he’d be monster fodder. He shuddered imagining the children’s grief.

But Kaidan said nothing, only fixed him with inscrutable eyes.

Somehow, today that gaze felt softer than ever. Perhaps even the cold Duke could be kind to the sick.