MTO C13

Chapter 13

“It seems… as the Headmaster, I am the one who squandered it all.”

Michel lowered his head deeply, then suddenly a thought struck him.

“Come to think of it, David isn’t familiar with the whole situation, is he? To be honest, I used to be a truly vile man.”

“…Is that so?”

“Yes. I constantly tormented the children, and I wasted every single donation on alcohol and gambling. If lightning had killed me on that day, perhaps it would’ve been for the best…”

Michel clicked his tongue, and David’s eyes took on a subtle, unreadable gleam.

Wait—did I sound too much like I was talking about someone else?

Michel forced an awkward twist into his lips.

“Of course, now I deeply regret everything.”

“…That’s fortunate.”

“Then, how was the orphanage run in the meantime?”

Michel hurriedly changed the subject. Barbara, somewhat hesitant, answered.

“We managed with small jobs from the village. For example, we’d take in laundry, do manuscript copying… or chop firewood to sell at market.”

“Chop firewood? By whom?”

Surely not the children?

Michel recalled the faces of the children he had just seen. Not one seemed sturdy enough to swing an axe and split wood. But then again, hadn’t he heard that people in this land raised children in strict, rough fashion? Perhaps chopping trees was something they started learning as soon as they could walk.

“M-me. I did it,”

Barbara raised her hand nervously. Yet imagining the frail nun wielding an axe was almost absurd. She was shorter than Michel by at least a head and about as thin as the children themselves.

David’s mouth also hung open in disbelief.

“You mean you personally split the firewood, Sister?”

“Not much, of course… That’s why we were always barely getting by.”

Barbara’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. That was when Michel finally glanced down at her hands.

Though her large eyes and small chin lent her the appearance of a young girl, her hands looked like those of an old woman—coarse and lined with wrinkles. Just by looking at them, one could tell how fiercely she had overseen the orphanage and cared for the children all this time.

Jeong-oh (Michel’s past life) too had grown up under the worn hands of nuns. They were always the ones who shouldered the heaviest burdens despite their veils—changing the diapers of crying infants en masse, preparing meals for dozens, sometimes even replacing broken lightbulbs or fixing splintered tables. To young Jeong-oh, they had seemed omnipotent, like gods themselves.

He remembered the warm gazes they had given him when he once promised to repay them when he grew older.

“Jeong-oh, when you grow up, don’t worry about us. Be kind to your younger siblings instead. Everything eventually flows downward.”

Perhaps those nuns had even foreseen a day like this. Ridiculous as it sounded, they always seemed to know everything.

A gentle smile touched Michel’s lips.

“Today I’ll go down to the village myself.”

Barbara stayed behind at the orphanage to tend to the children, while Michel set out with David for the village to gather food for supper. David was uneasy about Michel wandering around before his sainthood was officially announced at the lord’s castle, but Michel countered that since the ceremony had not yet been made public, now was the best time to move freely. Since it was also true that they had nothing to eat for the evening meal, David could not firmly object.

“We’re about halfway there, so let’s rest a little,” David suggested.

On the narrow forest path leading to the nearest village, Michel sat on a tree stump. From the leather water pouch Barbara had packed, he drank several gulps of warm tea, and the winter chill began to thaw within him. He wondered in amazement at how children managed to make such a long journey back and forth when even an adult needed rest.

“I thought only the lord’s castle was far away, but even the village is quite distant.”

“That’s typical for orphanages. In the Eastern Continent, some say a few are built inside cities, but such practice was against the will of Saint Pablo.”

This was news to Michel. He glanced at David, listening intently.

“Saint Pablo believed that children should grow up amidst nature. The very first orphanage in the Kingdom of Formene was built deep in the forest on that principle. And…”

For a brief moment, hesitation flickered across David’s face.

“If the path to the orphanage is long, perhaps the parents might change their minds along the way.”

Though he didn’t clarify exactly what kind of ‘change of mind,’ Michel understood easily. These were parents who had decided they could not raise their own children.

The longer they pondered on their walk, the weaker the resolve might become. Each for their own reasons, they brought their child to the orphanage, yet during the cold journey through dark woods, they must have felt the warmth of the small body in their arms. Anyone who had enough affection left to bring a child all this way would surely look back at least once in doubt.

If the road back had been harsher, would my own mother have changed her mind too?

Startled by the stray thought, Michel sprang to his feet. How foolish—thinking like a child who hadn’t grown. David didn’t know what had crossed his mind, but Michel himself felt embarrassed.

“We’ve rested enough. Let’s move on quickly.”

Though there was a note of gloom in his voice, David followed behind silently without complaint.

Since it was the dead of winter, the market was desolate. Most shops were closed, and the few merchants still lingering on the streets huddled sleepily by their bonfires. Even passersby kept their hands shoved under their armpits and hurried about without pausing to browse. It was as though the town itself had gone into hibernation.

Michel and David headed first to the bakery Barbara usually went to for part-time jobs. Its chimney still belched smoke without pause.

“Welcome! Eh—oh? Headmaster?”

As soon as they entered, a middle-aged woman—presumably the owner—greeted them. She already seemed acquainted with the Headmaster. Whether that was a good or bad sign remained to be seen.

Michel responded with a bright smile.

“Hello!”

“And what brings the Headmaster here…?”

“I heard Sister Barbara often lends a hand here. I wondered if there were any tasks I might help with today?”

The baker did not move from her counter but gave Michel and David a cursory glance. She showed no sign of genuine hospitality.

“And why didn’t the nun come herself today?”

“She’s staying back to care for the children.”

At that, the baker scoffed audibly.

“Ha! Sorry, but there’s nothing for you here today.”

Her tone suggested not that work was absent but that she had no intention of giving it to the Headmaster. No doubt she knew of his drunken history and his cruelty toward the orphans. While she had pitied Barbara and the children before and had often helped them, her loathing for the Headmaster must be all the stronger.

If only they had been strangers, it might have been easier.

“Please, entrust me with anything! Any laborious task—I can do it all!”

Michel flexed his arm, trying to show muscle. Ever since arriving in this world, he had trained consistently, and now his body was far healthier than before. The problem was that little of it showed visibly.

“I said there’s nothing! If you’re not here to buy, then leave already. I’m far too busy, ugh, don’t distract me!”

He couldn’t even point out how contradictory it was to claim “being busy” meant also “having no work to give.” The baker brandished a massive rolling pin menacingly, and so Michel and David were driven back out onto the street.

“How about we try that shop next?”

Michel wasn’t ready to give in yet. The village was large, with many shops—surely one would have something for them. Bolstering his disappointment, he set off briskly.

The next stop was the butcher’s.

Slash!

A grisly sound reverberated in the cramped store as the butcher carved through a pig carcass. Pretending he hadn’t seen the blood and bones, Michel greeted brightly.

“Hello!”

“Huh? Eh? Isn’t that you, Michel?”

Again, someone who knew him? How infamous was this drunkard?

Michel managed an awkward smile toward the butcher wielding the cleaver. At least this man’s expression was friendlier than the bakery owner’s.

“What brings you here this early! It’s strange not to see you at the tavern these days—I was about to think you’d had your throat slit!”

Ah… a drinking buddy.

Michel choked back a sigh. Still, if they were friendly, maybe there was a chance here. Michel forced cheer into his voice.

“Haha, I’ve quit drinking forever this time.”

“What a joke! That’s as believable as the rumor that the new lord is a eunuch!”

The butcher guffawed so hard Michel could see the inside of his throat. Instinctively, Michel glanced sideways and saw David’s quiet hand drift toward his sword hilt. Whatever this talk of “lord and vassal” entailed, it seemed dangerous. Quickly, Michel stepped in front of him.

“I—I’m here to work for wages. Do you have any job I could do?”

“What? You want to work?”

The butcher gave him a serious once-over, then burst into laughter again, so loud Michel’s ears rang.

“You must really be desperate. To think you, in a monk’s robe, would offer to take on my labor. But don’t underestimate this work.”

“I’d never take it lightly. I’ll even change clothes if needed. Please, anything at all—let me try!”

This time Michel forgot all pride and begged outright. But the butcher shook his head firmly.

“I can’t serve my customers torn flesh. And if your mistake cost me my hand, how would I justify that before God?”

Another refusal. Michel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. It seemed they would once more have to leave empty-handed.

He was about to tell David to move on when, abruptly, the butcher slung an arm around his shoulder.

“You look like you’re in a rough pinch, my friend. Forgive me for not helping. Didn’t I tell you before? Better to seek mercy from the new young lord. When matters settle, come back—we’ll share a drink.”

The butcher lowered his voice as he glanced at David. Michel felt the urge to clear up the misunderstanding, but the butcher’s shove out the door came faster. Again, they stepped into the street empty-handed.