MTO C60

Chapter 60

Truly, arrogance had crept in.

Remaining in the North had been entirely the master’s choice. He was not a man to be “kept” by anyone’s plea. Yet Lawrence had dared to think that his request had forced the master to inherit the dukedom. He chastised himself. Under a merciful lord, he had grown brazen.

He headed to the kitchens to obey his orders. Preparing a tray fit for the Saint, he found himself admiring his master’s keen eye and thoughtfulness—watching throughout supper, noting how little the Saint had eaten, and ordering food up afterward. What other lord fretted so?

Then, another prick of shame: the Saint was the duke’s honored guest, yet the reception had been lacking. Mindful of the children, Lawrence had forgotten the essence. It was the Saint he must tend, not the children.

“Which way do we go?”

“That way!”

Tray in hand, Lawrence stepped from the kitchen just as a tumble of children spilled into the corridor. The brown‑haired boy in front collided with him. The tray slipped—

“Ah!”

But Lawrence caught the boy with one hand and, with the other, snatched the tray as it flipped. The sandwiches settled back into a neat stack, as if nothing had happened.

“Wow!”

Tiny hands applauded his acrobatics. Lawrence set the boy upright.

“Young ladies, young lords. Where are you going at this hour?”

“We got lost playing tag!”

“We went back the way we came, but…”

“We found the butler—we can ask him!”

“What about Leon?”

Their chatter made his headache surge. Tag? In Eglence’s corridors, like street urchins—so near the Duke’s study? If his lord had seen—

“Caught you.”

Something small and warm latched onto Lawrence’s leg. He looked down. Fluffy pink hair.

“Ah! Found Leon too!”

The rosy hair fell back, and spring‑green eyes fixed on Lawrence. The child untied a white handkerchief from his wrist and held it out.

“Now Grandpa is ‘it.’”

Grandpa? Lawrence’s brow twitched. When he didn’t take the cloth, the child waggled it cheerfully.

“Grandpa.”

He smiled with guileless delight. Lawrence stared back, face cool as ice.

Knock knock.

“Yes!”

Michel opened the door—and jolted. Lawrence stood there with Leon in his arms.

“Ch‑Chief Steward?”

“The Duke has sent dessert. Pardon the intrusion.”

Michel stepped aside, and Lawrence wheeled in a trolley, laying out plates with crisp precision—despite one arm occupied with a child. Leon sagged against him, yawning hugely; bedtime neared. The whole tableau confounded Michel.

“Chief Steward?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you… holding Leon?”

A foolish question the instant it left his mouth. Michel himself carried Leon constantly; so did Barbara, David—sometimes even Heart or Oliver. Leon was young, beloved, and always scooped up. But Lawrence? In Michel’s mind, the man was a strict schoolmaster—who might reach for the switch at the sound of tears.

“He seemed drowsy. I picked him up to help him sleep.”

Anyone else would have drawn a fond smile. From Lawrence’s even tone, Michel’s confusion only deepened. Perhaps Leon had asked to be carried—he was friendly with everyone. And a guest’s request was hard to refuse. Michel opened his arms.

“I’ll take him. Come here, Leon.”

Lawrence stepped back, out of reach. Michel blinked.

“Please enjoy the refreshment. The Duke worried you ate little at dinner.”

“O‑oh?”

“I shall escort the young master to his room. Leave the dishes; we’ll collect them in the morning. Shall I prepare the bath as well?”

“Th‑thank you.”

“Then I’ll have hot water sent up at once. I’ll take my leave.”

He bowed impeccably. One hand supported Leon’s bottom, the other tapped the child’s back in a steady rhythm. By then, Leon had slipped into dreams.

Creak.

Thud.

“Whew…”

Michel gazed at the closed door and sighed long.

Thank goodness. Lawrence likes children, it seems.

Only now did he realize it, the man’s face so unreadable all day. Tension bled from his shoulders; hunger seeped in. Between minding children and watching Lawrence, he had barely eaten.

Kaidan notices everything…

With quiet gratitude, Michel sat to savor the late‑night tray.

Next morning.

Summoned early, Michel went to the Duke’s chamber.

“Good morning, Brother.”

“Saint.”

A light nod, then the Duke dismissed the attendant and led Michel to a wardrobe.

“What’s all this at dawn?”

“There’s something for you to see.”

Without explanation, he pulled a thick book aside, reached into the cabinet, and—

Clunk.

He slid the wardrobe, revealing a hidden stone door.

A secret passage!

Michel’s breath steamed with childlike glee. Who hadn’t dreamed of such doors? Kaidan picked the lock; the stone swung inward to a shadowed corridor. He lit a torch.

“Follow me. Stairs—watch your step.”

Michel’s curiosity puffed like bread in an oven. What awaited? A hidden escape from foes? A prison for vile men? A secret menagerie?

A dragon?

“You locked up the child?!”

Kaidan paused, turning back.

“What?”

“The one I asked you to find. I said to treat them kindly! You didn’t throw them in a dungeon, did you?”

He could already see it—the dragon shackled in cold dark, bleeding, vowing revenge, rising to devour Valois beginning with Eglence Castle.

What had he done?

Kaidan doused the panic.

“Sorry to disappoint. The child’s not found yet. We’re scouring the entire North—give it time.”

Michel clutched his chest. In a heartbeat his mind had overturned a kingdom’s fate.

“Good that you brought it up. We lack leads. Any other traits?” Kaidan resumed descending.

Michel grimaced. Too much time had passed since reading the webtoon; details blurred. If he had sharper eyes, he would have recognized Kaidan at first sight back then.

“Hair and eyes—white. No, the eyes had a tinge of blue, I think.”

Kaidan stopped again, glancing over his shoulder.

“Did you not say it was a child?”

“It is.”

“Then white hair and… white eyes? Are they blind?”

Michel shook his head.

“Vision’s fine. Probably…”

He trailed off. He was fairly sure sight hadn’t been an issue. Kaidan’s eyes narrowed. Michel lifted a shoulder.

“I told you—different from others.”

How much truth could he reveal? Wings and scales would earn him a pyre, not a partner. In the webtoon, crowds cried of “monster half‑breeds” at the dragon. Saving the world mattered; so did keeping his skin unscorched. Perhaps he had dug his own grave by asking for help. Best would be to find the dragon himself—somehow.

“At least that much should make searching easier,” Kaidan said, displeasure slight but with no more questions.

Michel hurried to change the subject.

“If not the child, then where are we going?”

“We’re here.”

Another locked stone door. Kaidan slipped all the keys, swung it open. Darkness. He touched flame to the lamps on the wall—light bloomed and the shadows fled.