MTO C7

Chapter 7

“We have arrived, my lords!”

Stepping down from the carriage, Jeong-oh stretched and groaned loudly, arms flung high. At first, he had found the ride exciting—simply riding in a carriage felt like a novelty in itself. But as the hours wore on, the poor suspension rattled his body so miserably that every joint cried for mercy.

All because this body lacked muscle.

He thumped his lower back ruefully and lifted his gaze toward the orphanage building.

It was a two-story wooden structure, the very picture of a haunted house from an amusement park—gloomy and cheerless. Patches of either mold or moss had spread across the walls. A few windows lacked shutters entirely, covered only by scraps of cloth nailed messily over the open gaps. Whether proper heating existed inside was highly questionable.

After several days in the splendor of a ducal fortress, this place looked even more run-down by comparison.

Maybe the inside is better?

Just then the front door banged open, and a woman rushed out in a fluster.

“Director!”

She was a young nun of small stature. Her hazelnut-colored eyes seemed especially kind. Yet she looked startled, clearly unsettled by the unannounced arrival of Jeong-oh and David.

Catching David’s eye, Jeong-oh signaled him to speak. With a bright smile, David stepped forward.

“Greetings, Sister. I am David Roman. From today I serve as the escort to Saint Michel, and will be residing here at the orphanage for a time. I apologize for arriving without sending prior notice.”

“I—I am Barbara. But… Saint, you say?”

Barbara glanced at Jeong-oh with perplexed eyes. When he gave her a gentle smile, she flinched, lowering her head hastily. Her reaction was almost excessively timid.

What’s with that? Just my imagination?

“Alas, the Saint currently suffers from a severe sore throat and cannot easily speak. Please allow me to explain all in due course. Might we enter?”

“Y-yes. Please, come inside.”

As Barbara turned, David threw Jeong-oh a quick wink. Relieved, Jeong-oh gave him a discreet thumbs-up.

Contrary to its ragged exterior, the orphanage interior was tolerably neat. The floors shone from diligent scrubbing. Worn furniture was dressed with small touches like lace cloths, old curtains, tablecovers—tiny efforts that lent warmth. It carried the cozy, makeshift feel of a place for children.

If anything, the interior was colder than the outside.

“Forgive me—I had no idea you would return today…”

Barbara kindled the fireplace in the sitting room and even prepared tea. Jeong-oh gave a smile of thanks, but she averted her eyes again, awkwardly.

No mistake now—she was uneasy around him.

Did Michel quarrel with her?

Unable to guess further, Jeong-oh stayed quiet, sipping tea as if playing detective while studying her face.

“Have you heard of the lightning that struck the Eglence fortress on Saint Pablo’s Day?”

David finally opened his mouth once Barbara had sat with them.

“Yes. I didn’t see it myself, but I heard rumors when I went to town.”

“On that day, Saint Michel was struck dead by lightning.”

“…What?”

Barbara looked directly at Jeong-oh now. Yet here he sat, breathing.

David wasted no time, gesturing grandly to the man beside him.

“But as you can see, the Saint yet lives. Our Lord Himself worked the miracle of resurrection through him!”

“Th—that’s truly…?”

“Only yesterday the priests of the Church came to investigate and confirm his faith. Soon all Valois shall know that a Saint walks among them.”

Jeong-oh laid the wooden token of sainthood he carried upon the table for all to see. As Barbara’s eyes fell upon it, her face stiffened. Her expression went beyond shock—was that anger flashing there?

“Is this not joyous news? Surely, Sister Barbara, you must know what it means for the world to learn that a Saint oversees an orphanage. Donations will flow in greater abundance.”

Perhaps her tepid response puzzled even David, for he pressed gently. Startling at his words, Barbara managed at last a frail smile.

“Yes… yes, of course. I was simply startled by the suddenness. Congratulations, Director.”

So it’s just nerves, Jeong-oh thought. After all, no wonder—sudden tidings, the director’s abrupt return, and a knight at the gates.

“May I ask… how long do you intend to remain here?”

Her cautious question confirmed his suspicion: she was uneasy about David.

“Alas, I cannot promise. Know only this: Duke Eglence concerns himself greatly for the Saint’s safety. That alone I assure you. We shall conduct ourselves quietly, to bring no inconvenience to you or the children.”

“I… I did not mean it that way. Stay as long as you wish.”

Still, Barbara’s discomfort was plain. Jeong-oh thought grimly: he did not want Barbara or the children to suffer unease on his account.

I’ll ask Kaidan to replace him soon. But first, I’ll have to get that etiquette training over with.

“You must both be weary from your long journey. Please rest here for the time being—I’ll arrange rooms right away.”

“Your kindness is appreciated.”

Her automatic smile came at David’s polite words. She turned to leave, but Jeong-oh blurted hastily:

“And the children…?”

Barbara halted. Jeong-oh rasped his words, feigning a harsh hoarseness to sell the tale of laryngitis. Surprised, she blinked quickly.

“…All the children are upstairs right now. It is their nap hour, so they won’t be out.”

So that’s why the orphanage is so quiet.

Jeong-oh nodded reluctantly, though disappointed. He longed to see what kind of children lived here, but there would be time for that.

“Then, please, rest.”

And Barbara vanished from the sitting room like an arrow.

The “Director’s Office” plate made Michel’s room easy to find. While David went off to manage the guest lodging arrangements, Jeong-oh began sifting through the office.

Unlike the castle’s grand chambers, it was modest but perfectly serviceable: bed, desk, cupboards. Oddly, everything was immaculate—as though Michel had been obsessively tidy. Even after days of absence, not a fleck of dust covered the desk.

Opening the drawers, Jeong-oh found a small black leather ledger. Rows of tight writing and numbers filled its pages.

Must be the orphanage accounts.

Beside wobbly columns of sums were words like ken or habit, presumably unit names for currencies. He had no inkling of their relative worth. Better to leave the matter for later study. He carefully replaced the ledger.

Further searching revealed nothing else. No diaries, no notes; just more ledgers and scripture.

But beside the desk stood a tall cylindrical stand, filled with rods.

Curious, Jeong-oh pulled one. At once, it flexed ominously, springing back like a whip.

It looked for all the world like a cat’s toy wand—except oversized and with no dangling bauble.

Experimentally, he swung it in the air. Crack! The tip sliced the air and slammed against the floor with frightening force. Far too dangerous for play.

“What on earth is this for?”

Half-joking, he rubbed it across his back as if it were a massager. Just then, cold air swept across his cheek.

The window stood ajar.

Approaching instinctively, Jeong-oh peered out—and blinked. Children were trudging up the path toward the orphanage in a small group.

“What…?”

But Barbara had said nap-time. Strange.

Leaning further, he made out three figures: an older girl, a boy about her height, and a much smaller boy toddling between them. Their arms were laden clumsily with bundles, their steps swaying precariously.

Not thinking twice, Jeong-oh rushed out.

“Hey, kids!”

The three froze at his sudden shout. One girl who looked in the early grades of primary school; one boy around her age; and another tiny boy, much smaller than both.

Oh, crap.

Only then did it hit Jeong-oh: he was supposed to be playing the hoarse-voiced Michel.

“Ahem… it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

He forced warmth into his tone, rasping deliberately like a man with a bad throat. He tried his best to mimic the kindly orphanage director he remembered from life.

“Ah… hello, sir.”

“…Hello.”

The taller boy greeted him first; the girl timidly followed suit. The youngest boy shrank behind her back.

It was bitter cold—even adults felt the bite in their bones. Yet the children wore nothing but threadbare cardigans.

Jeong-oh’s heart sank for their shivering.

“Where have you been?”

“O-on an errand to town…”

“And just you three, alone?”

No answer—only shifty eyes between them.

Why so secretive? Did they sneak out without permission? Regardless, he could not leave them standing in the wind.

Each child was bent under a basket half as wide as their own torsos. Their tiny hands were red, raw against the cold, on the edge of frostbite.

“Give me that. I’ll carry it—not to worry.”

He reached for the youngest’s bundle—then realized, too late, that his other hand still clutched the strange rod he had taken from Michel’s study.

Oh!

Better put this back later.

Switching it absentmindedly to his free hand—

“Waaaah!”

The little one burst into tears.

Footnotes:

1. The Rods – These appear to be whips or switches stored in a stand, commonly used by Michel (the original) to punish children. Jeong-oh, unaware, mistakes one for a toy or tool until the terrified child reacts.