MTO C54

Chapter 54

Suddenly, Kaidan realized he had been staring at Michel for far too long. He turned his eyes away, almost unnaturally.

“A monster appeared near the orphanage woods. This isn’t something we can take lightly.”

At those words, Michel’s expression darkened. He had only just awakened and hadn’t thought through the implications — but Kaidan was right. What if another monster appeared, this time when the children were alone? The thought was horrific, yet entirely possible.

“I heard monsters never came down as far as inhabited lands.”

“Until four days ago, they didn’t.” Kaidan’s reply was sardonic.

“I’ve already dispatched search parties through the forest. We need to know if that one naga just strayed inside… or if it’s laid eggs and begun breeding. In that case, Valois Orphanage is no longer safe.”

He spoke the truth. The building had no defenses — and Michel had almost been killed merely trying to protect.

What should I do? How can I keep them safe?

“I’ll send for a carriage. Prepare to leave for Eglence Castle at once.”

Michel jerked his head up.

“Wh—no! That won’t do.”

“…?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I can’t go alone. If I leave, then only the Sister and the children remain here. No one to fight should another monster come.”

Kaidan frowned as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What do you take me for?”

“…Pardon?”

“Of course I’ll bring all the children.”

It took a moment to sink in.

“All seven of them?”

“Yes.”

“And Barbara too?”

Kaidan arched a brow as if insulted by the obviousness. But Michel only stared with shining eyes until he sighed.

“Anyone else you want taken, name them now.”

Michel shook his head fervently, then broke into a bright smile.

“You’ll come, won’t you?”

There was a hint of tension in Kaidan’s tone. Michel nodded sharply.

“Thank you!”

He had thought of the orphanage as his true home, but if it wasn’t safe, home could no longer be bricks and roof. Home was the children — each of them. Where they went, he would go.

“They’ll love the idea. The twins, did you see them earlier? One of them — Dan — loves to draw. He often sketches castles, always huge and grand. Only what he finds impressive, he puts on paper.”

“…Good.”

“And Charlotte! She’s always wondered how the inside of a castle looks. She kept asking to join me next time I went. She was the girl with twin braids, remember? David carried her out earlier. The little boy with her was Leon—”

Michel’s voice ran on, animated, until Kaidan, of all people, let out a low chuckle. The sound made Michel stop mid‑sentence, stunned.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Kaidan laugh, but rare enough that it felt strange. Even the smallest twitch of his eyes, the faintest upward curl of lips — his features grew softer, almost gentle. A completely different man from the cold duke he appeared in moments of scorn.

Yet the glimpse vanished quickly. Kaidan schooled his face blank again and rose. Michel felt sudden disappointment to see it leave.

“I’ll bring you food. Stay put.”

“No, I can—”

“Rest.”

The one word cut like command. Michel sat obediently back on the bed. Restless as he was, for today he didn’t feel the urge to disobey. After all, this man had saved his life.

I hope he returns quickly…

Even before Kaidan left, Michel longed for him to return. His gaze followed the back of his head — perhaps too intently, since Kaidan suddenly turned.

“You once said you wished you could bring about greater miracles.”

“Huh? Oh… yes.”

He remembered. On the carriage ride back from the relief festival, weighed down by the thought that if he were truly a saint, Colin’s father might have been cured outright, Michel had confessed:

If only I could perform a greater miracle… then I’d be of real help to you, Brother Kaidan.

At the time, he had meant it in confusion; he was no miracle worker, just a man out of place.

Now Kaidan’s eyes held his steadily. After a pause, he said clearly:

“In my eyes, you’ve already performed a miracle.”

“…What?”

“I saw it — in the children.”

Michel only blinked at him, dumbstruck.

“You are a true Saint.”

He left with that, walking briskly as if chased. Michel exhaled shakily at the closing door.

What happened while I was unconscious?

He needed to speak with Kaidan properly again when he returned. Was he still dreaming?

Sinking back onto the bed, he heard a small thunk. Something hard had fallen underfoot. Reaching down, he brought it up into his hand.

“…What’s this doing here?”

A small wooden plaque, engraved with a golden rune.

The Token of Sainthood.

Elsewhere.

“Headmaster, eat mine too!”

“Here’s some of mine!”

“Careful, children—!”

Through the window, Heart peeked inward. The lively, noisy room was centered wholly around the newly‑awake director. Everyone’s eyes glued to him.

He’s alive. Not dead after all. He fought a monster and still lived. Only demons could survive so.

So Heart understood: the Headmaster couldn’t be killed. To challenge him was meaningless. Even if stabbed down, he would only rise again.

Heart watched as he accepted food from children with a smile, violet eyes warm and bright.

The boy remembered: how his legs had shaken, face gone chalk‑white when fangs bared at him. He had screamed, thrown stones, but trembled with every fiber. The monster had seen through it immediately. He had been unable to move, certain he would die.

The Headmaster had been different. Empty‑handed, but fearless — wrestling the serpent. Even poisoned, knocked senseless, he had lived. Whereas Heart, supposed son of hunters, had frozen in terror.

So the victor was clear. The Headmaster won. Heart lost.

Which meant it was Heart who no longer belonged here.

He slipped upstairs unseen. His bundle already packed: battered canteen, stolen kitchen knife, a pretty stone Leon had given him, and a single coin found on the road. Pitiful, but enough.

From the upstairs landing, he studied the hall. Quiet. Most noise drifted from the kitchen. Perfect. He slung the satchel and slipped down the stairs.

No one stopped him as he crossed the threshold.

Should have done this long ago.

He had hated the orphanage — the beatings, the scraps of food to share. Worse since the Headmaster’s lies began. Worse still when others played along happily.

Only Leon had bound him here. So long as Heart was around, Leon wasn’t beaten. He had to protect him.

But now… even Leon would be safe. If danger came, hadn’t the Headmaster shielded Heart himself? He would shield Leon, too.

When will they notice I’m gone?

Likely they would feel relief. Heart was trouble, hopeless. Their lives would brighten without him.

So he would leave.

He glanced back once at the building.

“Heart, where are you going?”

Directly through the window, the Headmaster’s eyes locked on his own.

Startled, Heart nearly stumbled into a fall.