MTO C14

Chapter 14

Even after that, Michel and David scoured the town’s business district in search of work, but gained nothing of substance. Most of the villagers seemed unwilling to even exchange words with Michel.

At one point, an old man flung a bucket of dirty wastewater at him. Michel dodged swiftly enough to avoid being completely drenched, but the stench that clung to his clothes drew even stronger looks of disgust from passersby. No matter how passionately he declared that he had changed and would now live diligently, everyone only turned their cold gazes away.

It wasn’t unexpected—Michel had anticipated it would not be easy.

He slumped down heavily onto a bench. With only a thin watery soup he had gulped that morning as his day’s sustenance, hunger was creeping in, and his body—still needing training—was already showing signs of fatigue.

What now?

Perhaps he should have come with Barbara after all. Her testimony would surely have carried more weight; the villagers had learned to trust her word through years of honest effort. By contrast, hearing Michel claim with his own mouth that he had changed was hardly persuasive. But he hadn’t wanted to leave the children alone at the orphanage, nor burden Barbara with yet more responsibilities after all she had endured.

Should I just go chop firewood after all?

As Michel pondered seriously, a long shadow fell across him from above.

“Why do you not take out the token?”

“Huh?”

Michel looked up from where he sat and saw David smiling faintly.

“If you were to show them the saint’s token, everyone without exception would rush to offer their help.”

“Wait—was I even allowed to show that to others?”

“Who would dare dispute the actions of a saint?”

This tone was a stark reversal of the hesitation David had shown at the orphanage that morning. Outwardly he showed no signs, but maybe repeated failures had worn him down as well.

Michel fingered the pouch where the wooden plaque^1 rested. If he followed David’s suggestion and displayed the saint’s token openly, the problem might indeed resolve quickly. He could likely procure food without lifting a finger. He remembered how, when he had first awakened in this world, people had bowed reverently before him.

But…

“Kaidan said he would soon introduce me formally to the people of his domain, right? Until then I should keep quiet. I don’t want to cause trouble for him and ruin his plans.”

The thought that Kaidan might lock him up in the castle again if angered was terrifying. Though Kaidan spoke of saints as though they were sacred treasures, Michel had already experienced what it meant to be kept in confinement by him. Besides, Kaidan was a high noble and the lord of Valois. Since Michel now ran the orphanage within Valois, it would be wise to maintain amicable relations with him.

David raised his brows, surprised by the answer.

“I see. My judgment was too hasty.”

“No, I’m sorry. You must be exhausted, too.”

“If I were so easily fatigued, I could not rightly call myself a knight of the Eglence Order. But unless we hurry, darkness will fall.”

David’s gaze tilted upward. Michel followed and saw the sky, once pale blue, gradually darkening. With the distance between village and orphanage, even a short delay meant they would be walking through pitch-black night.

The children must be hungry too. Yet they had not a single coin with which to buy food, nor had they found any work that might earn it.

“There’s no helping it. For today, I will lend you money. Let us purchase supper and return at once.”

David pulled a small pouch from his cloak. The jingling sound of coins made Michel’s eyes widen in wonder.

“Are you sure it’s all right?”

“I shall record it in the accounts. But you must repay me later.”

It was comforting news, but Michel couldn’t rejoice wholeheartedly. Borrowing from David solved today’s hunger, but what about tomorrow? The villagers’ cold stares would not soften overnight. Whether tomorrow or the next day, the matter remained his to resolve.

Michel sprang to his feet with renewed vigor.

“Let’s just try one more place before we go back.”

“Welcome in!”

The final place they visited was an inn that doubled as a tavern. The moment they stepped inside, the quiet of the cold streets outside was shattered by raucous noise.

Michel’s eyes gleamed as he saw men and women gathered in groups, clinking glasses together. It felt almost as if the entire village had gathered there, the hall buzzing in merriment.

With this many patrons, they must surely need an extra hand.

Just then, a young man with a fresh, boyish face rushed over.

“Looking for a room? Or for food?”

“Hello. Actually, we’re not customers—we came seeking work.”

“Work?”

“Yes! Whether it’s cleaning rooms, washing dishes, or anything else—I’ll work hard at whatever you give me!”

Michel’s voice rang out lively like a student at his very first part-time job interview. The young man didn’t seem to recognize who he was, which gave Michel even more hope.

“In that case, leave. It’s winter—we barely even have customers here.”

Instead of expectation, the youth only waved them away with a scowl.

Michel glanced around at the bustling room in disbelief. All these patrons in front of his eyes—were they not people? Was he seeing flies instead? Since this tavern was his last hope, he couldn’t give up so easily.

“Please, I’ll do absolutely anything!”

“I said there’s nothing!”

“Wait, listen—!”

“Coming!”

Michel grabbed at the young waiter’s sleeve, but the boy briskly shook him off and ran to serve a customer. Staring at his empty hands, Michel despaired.

In his former life, he had never faced such struggles. From the age of twenty he had helped at his master’s taekwondo gym, looking after children. The work had suited him well, and a few years later he even earned his instructor’s license. People spoke of youth unemployment and job scarcity, but none of that had touched him.

Yet now, finding even the most menial work was proving impossibly difficult.

He felt overwhelming gratitude for Master Usung Woo^2, who had once given him a job without asking anything in return—and guilt for all the part-time hopefuls he had rejected back then. He should have given them kinder rejections at least!

“Are you all right?”

“Y-yes…”

Michel raised his slumping shoulders with effort. At this point, he had little choice but to accept David’s offer of money.

If only he’d agreed right away when David had first suggested it, instead of making it harder now by asking again later. Having never once borrowed money from anyone in his life, he wasn’t sure how even to bring it up.

“Um… David…”

But just then, a lively melody pierced through the tavern noise.

Michel turned instinctively. In the very center of the hall, atop a broad low table, a band of performers were playing instruments.

Unlike the other patrons wrapped in heavy winter clothes, they wore light shirts beneath brightly colored capes and paper crowns upon their heads. Some beat on drum-like instruments; others strummed a small guitar-like lute.

“Oh, toil-weary friends, lift your cups high!”

The man leading them sang in a booming voice, and the onlookers clapped and stomped in time. Some even rose from their seats and danced. Overwhelmed by the revelry, Michel forgot entirely what he had been about to say.

“It’s rare for a traveling troupe to come this far north to Valois in winter. Quite unusual.”

David too had drawn nearer, watching with interest. Michel stretched his neck beside him to better see the performance. The tune sounded unfamiliar, yet its repeated simple rhythm grew infectious.

As the crowd’s excitement boiled higher, a small boy leapt down from the stage. He dashed among the tables with his cap outstretched.

“Good sirs and ladies! A little generosity, if you please!”

Riding the wave of joy, people readily reached for their purses, and soon the boy’s cap bulged heavy with coins. Michel’s eyes widened further when he saw David toss in some copper coins as well.

You can earn money like this too?!

Then maybe…

“You mean to perform?”

Michel nodded firmly. David’s brows knit together.

“And what sort of performance, exactly?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Ignoring David’s aghast stare, Michel dragged him into preparations. They scavenged an unused barn fence from the village outskirts and tore a long strip from Michel’s sleeve to make a blindfold. After persuading the young waiter, Michel obtained permission to perform in exchange for a third of the earnings.

Once their crude preparations were finished, Michel explained David’s role to him. As he listened, David’s complexion turned successively green, purple, then pale white.

“I must repeat—this is not a wise idea. If it is money you need, I can lend you more.”

“It’s fine! You only have to do exactly as I tell you. I’m not asking anything difficult, am I?”

“But if word of this reaches the duke…”

“Come on, between us it’ll stay a secret! At this rate, the kids will starve. Let’s hurry!”

When David stood frozen in refusal, Michel reluctantly pulled out the saint’s token. It had been David himself who said that no one could dispute the deeds of a saint.

Glaring resentfully, David nevertheless began to move, albeit slowly. Michel prodded him gently forward until the two of them stood atop the tavern’s central stage.

At once all eyes turned toward them.

“Wait—Isn’t that Michel? The orphanage headmaster!”

“What’s he doing, reciting prayers or something?”

“Ha! If that bastard can quote even one line of scripture, I’ll buy a round of beer for the whole lot of you!”

Yells and jeers rang out at their unfamiliar sight, so starkly different from the previous colorful troupe.

But Michel only smiled inwardly. To capture an audience’s attention was half the victory. In that sense, the performance had already begun well. Negative reactions were far more useful than indifference.

With a confident grin, Michel bowed deeply toward the crowd.