MTO C23

Chapter 23

Among the intruders was a broad man with a massive axe strapped to his back. Panting, he brushed snow from his legs—the mark of a snowball that had struck him earlier.

“Which dog‑spawn threw that, eh? Was it you, brat?”

“Heek!”

He lunged toward little Dan, who hiccupped and fell back in terror. Michel rushed forward, but David had already drawn his sword.

“State your names. Who are you?”

“And what’s this supposed to be?”

“Oi! Michel! He’s asking who we are!” Another man shouted—his face marked with a large scar.

Michel instantly understood: these men knew the orphanage’s original headmaster. Their familiarity was clear, but their character was nowhere near reputable.

He caught David’s shoulder, pressing him back from immediate violence.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“What seems to be the problem?” the scarred man mimicked in grotesque exaggeration, before throwing back his head and laughing raucously. His comrades joined in, clutching their bellies. But when Michel didn’t join in, the man’s face twisted abruptly into rage.

“Money! If you borrow it—you damn well pay it back!“

He proved his anger by kicking over the giant snowman in the yard. Its face split in two, stick arms cracking, the enormous sculpture crumbling to dust.

Charlotte shrieked; Leon burst into tears. As the men glared menacingly, Barbara hastily drew the children close.

Michel’s chest chilled and burned with anger all at once. David stepped forward, sword flashing with fury, but Michel again restrained him.

“Saint.”

“I’ll speak.”

Even if the thugs had started it, he couldn’t allow a fight to break out in front of the children.

The scarred debtor strode up to Michel until his breath washed foully across his face. Michel’s jaw clenched like stone.

“The money— you have it, don’t you?”

Ah. Debtors.

Michel’s fist tightened unseen. Whatever the old headmaster had done, how deeply he wanted to shake that man’s neck until it snapped.

“…How much was borrowed?”

“You think playing dumb makes debts vanish? Thirty thousand habits, you fool!”

Michel had no idea what thirty thousand “habits” meant. But the way David’s face darkened instantly made it clear: a staggering sum.

“That’s impossible—there’s no way he could have borrowed such a sum alone…”

“Shocking, right? But true. He even signed with his own hand.”

The thug produced a parchment. Even at a glance, it was a loan contract. Michel’s blood drained seeing the signature: his name.

“This… this is legally binding.”

David muttered grimly after reading. He had no way to help.

Michel swallowed. First things first—get these men away from the orphanage.

“I’ll repay it. I swear. But not immediately. Give me a little time—”

“What? No money?”

The man’s hand shot out, seizing Michel’s face.

“You didn’t forget our agreement, did you? If you can’t pay—you work it off with this precious body.”

Michel instinctively gripped that arm—but did not strike back. It wouldn’t be difficult to throw the man. But was it right? Here, he was clearly the debtor.

David wasn’t so hesitant. He pressed his blade to the thug’s throat.

“Know who stands before you, and yet you dare touch him with that filthy hand?”

“What the hell are you supposed to be—?”

“KYAA!”

“Alice!”

A scream cut them off. Michel shoved aside the debtor’s arm and spun.

Another brute—the axe man—was dragging Alice by the wrist, laughing crudely.

“Boss—why not take the girl instead? In the capital, girls like this sell high.”

Alice’s face was white with terror. Oliver lunged forward screaming, but Barbara seized him in her arms.

“No, Oliver!”

“Let me go! Alice!!”

“Remove your hand from the child.”

Michel growled, advancing. The thug yanked Alice closer defiantly.

“What if I don’t?”

Fire surged in Michel’s chest. He sprang forward, launching a roundhouse kick.

WHACK!

“URGH!”

The sneering brute’s face whipped sideways. His huge body toppled like a felled tree, crashing into an overturned cart with a thunderous BANG!

Even Michel blinked, startled. He hadn’t thought he’d knock him down so easily.

What the—was he really that weak?

The man’s build had been for show. His legs were nothing but useless scaffolding.

“KYAA!”

Alice tore free, collapsing. Michel bent low at once.

“Alice, are you all right?”

“…What did I just see…?”

Everyone—thugs, Barbara, even the children—stared wide‑eyed, stunned. For a moment no one moved. Then the gang’s leader pulled a club from his belt.

“What are you standing there gaping for? Grab him!”

At his order, the mob rushed forward. But David’s sword swept in great arcs, forcing their advance to a halt.

“Saint! Stand back—”

“Sister! Take the children inside!”

“What?”

Michel surged past David before he could protest, meeting the thugs head‑on. Their bulk dwarfed his lean body, his limbs barely more than newly trained sticks. But he had something they lacked: discipline, sparring, martial knowledge. Against a rabble, basic self‑defense sufficed.

Indeed, the men who looked so cruel and towering crumpled helplessly, never even wielding their weapons once. Meanwhile Barbara frantically ushered the children back into the safety of the orphanage.

“OI, MICHEL! Think you’ll get away with this? Next time we’ll burn this whole rotten orphanage down to ashes—count on it!”

Defeated, the ruffians retreated—still throwing curses even as they fled into the distance. Michel, chest heaving, glared after them until they were gone.

“Saint.”

Behind him, David spoke—the knight who hadn’t even needed to swing his blade. But Michel gave no answer. He fled inside.

The first floor was quiet. He climbed the stairs—his first time ascending to where the children lived.

Every bedroom door was locked. Without hesitation, he opened one.

Inside the curtained dark, Barbara huddled with several children, all trembling.

At once Michel’s entire body slackened in relief. He stepped lightly inside.

“Sister.”

“H‑Headmaster.”

Her pale face lifted to him, her eyes glimmering faint reassurance. But the children pressed lower, faces buried in bedding, shivering.

Alice clung to Barbara’s shoulder, body still shaking.

Michel knelt and reached a hand gently to her hair. “It’s all right now. They’re all gone.”

“No!!”

The moment his hand brushed her, Alice shrieked and curled in sharp fear.

That was the signal. Every child in the room began to cry. They wailed louder each time their eyes flicked toward Michel, as if he were the monster instead.

The rejection was absolute. Michel recoiled, stumbling back.

And then he saw—Heart.

In the corner, the boy sat clutching Leon. The only child not crying.

Heart’s lips were sealed, eyes lifted high, burning with murder. The gaze was harder, darker than it had been that night in the dormitory.

Michel’s breath hitched. His chest felt pulped, crushed under stone.

“Saint.”

He turned. David stood behind him, expression cold.

“Let us speak privately.”