MTO C8

Chapter 8

“Wh-why are you crying? Is it the basket? I’m sorry! I won’t take it, I promise!”

“Waaahhh!”

Flustered, Jeong-oh raised his hands high to show his innocence. But the child’s sobbing only grew louder. The tiny body shook as though it might break apart. Watching it, Jeong-oh’s soul nearly fled in panic.

He crouched, intending to comfort the boy—but the child shrieked in terror and bolted, too frightened to be held.

It wasn’t the first time Jeong-oh had dealt with a crying child. In the Taekwondo dojang, at least once a week there was always one in tears. After nearly ten years of tumbling about with kids, he had formed his own strategies for managing them.

“All right, let’s high-five! …Ah, wait, they don’t do that here, do they? Okay, clap your hands! Wow, clap, clap!”

“Waaahhh!”

But none of his tactics worked on this boy. Normally, distraction came first—you had to capture a child’s attention. Yet this boy twisted his head desperately away, refusing even to meet Jeong-oh’s gaze.

“Stop crying!”

Abruptly, the girl with them clapped her hand over the boy’s mouth. A crude solution, but effective. Startled, Jeong-oh swept the child up in his arms—only for him to kick and thrash in a fit, screaming.

“Waaaah!”

“Saint!”

The cries had brought Barbara and David rushing out from the orphanage. At once, the children bolted away from Jeong-oh and ran straight for her.

Panicking, Jeong-oh released the writhing boy. The child fled into Barbara’s arms in a shower of tears. She hoisted him up onto her hip.

“What on earth are you doing! You were to come straight upstairs the moment you returned!”

Her harsh scolding startled not only the children but even Jeong-oh, who hiccupped in shock. Even the sobbing boy, caught off guard, froze wide-eyed and quiet.

“Do you realize the uproar you’ve caused? Do you know how worried everyone was? You’ll all be punished thoroughly today!”

Her severe tone cowed them all. The children mumbled apologies; Barbara turned then to Jeong-oh with a brisk bow.

“I apologize for the disruption. I will send them back upstairs immediately.”

“Wait, there’s no need—”

“Oliver, Alice. What are you standing around for? Inside, now!”

Like a storm, Barbara herded the children inside so swiftly that Jeong-oh was left in a daze of confusion.

…What just happened?

Standing beside him with a frown, David suddenly asked,

“Why are you holding a whip, my lord?”

“What?”

Jeong-oh blinked at him—but David’s eyes were fixed on his hand. Looking down, Jeong-oh realized he was still clutching the rod. He gasped.

“This thing’s… a whip?”

He lifted it, aghast. David only shrugged. What else would it be?

With a start, Jeong-oh dropped it as if it burned him. His heart pounded as though he’d been the one struck.

Barbara did not come down again until evening. Jeong-oh longed to explain to her that the children had done nothing wrong, but David advised against it. It was wisest, he said, to avoid any further suspicious behavior. Reluctantly, Jeong-oh agreed, though his chest was heavy.

At dinner, Barbara entered to set out food. Jeong-oh prearranged for David to speak on his behalf.

“Sister, the Saint wishes you to know the children are not at fault. He called out to them himself, and the boy only cried upon seeing what looked like a whip in his hand. He asks you not to punish them too severely.”

Barbara listened in silence, her face stony. After a long pause, she merely said,

“Please eat your meal.”

Her voice flat, she turned to go. David stopped her briefly.

“Will you not eat with us, Sister?”

“I will dine with the children upstairs.”

Her attitude made her distance clear. Leaving swiftly, her footsteps faded. A sigh escaped Jeong-oh.

“Do people in Valois usually raise children so strictly?”

“…Why do you ask?”

David’s tone cooled, though a faint smile still played on his lips.

“Well, Kaidan went to war at fourteen, and Sister Barbara scolded them so harshly… it seems like kids here are raised too severely.”

“And yet, Saint, are you not of Valois yourself?”

That voice—calm, smiling, yet edged with cold.

“Compared to Southerners, it is true. Northerners are harsher. This is a brutal land. To survive, children must learn early. Southerners think us heartless and cruel. But, in truth, Northerners are severe only to protect their own.”

As though awaiting agreement, David searched his face. Slowly, Jeong-oh nodded. The thought weighed on him deeply.

After dinner, David insisted on guarding his door, but Jeong-oh sent him to his own chamber. What danger could lurk here, in an orphanage guarded only by children and a nun? If anything, the most dangerous man here was the armed knight himself.

Not pleased, David finally yielded.

“As you wish. But please call for me if you require anything.”

“Yes, get some rest. Thank you for today, David.”

At last alone, Jeong-oh collapsed against the bed. He had planned to continue searching Michel’s room, but exhaustion claimed him.

Lying sideways, he glanced at the tall cylindrical rack by the desk. David had said all those rods inside were whips.

Why would Michel keep so many? For training animals? But he had yet to see even a dog here.

Then a terrible thought struck.

“…No, surely not.”

He muttered it to himself, rolling over. But once conceived, the thought burrowed deep, refusing to be dislodged.

This world was utterly unlike the one he had left. Methods of raising children, too, might be entirely different. It was, after all, a land of monsters and bitter winters. Perhaps, truly, children required harshness to survive.

But his heart recoiled. The whips were heavy, fierce. Far too cruel to use on grown men, let alone children. Could Michel, under the guise of “discipline,” have committed horrors?

If that were true, then Jeong-oh could not go on pretending to be him.

…I’ll wake early tomorrow. Look around the orphanage. Learn more.

He blew out the candle, closing his eyes. But sleep was slow to come, unease gnawing at him.

The old bed creaked with each shift of his body. Then, suddenly, silence fell. Breathing—soft and steady—settled into the room.

The night was utterly still. No wind, no sound—until something black crept from under the bed. Moonlight traced the shadow of a small figure standing beside him.

The intruder stared down at the sleeping man—the orphanage “director.” His own heart beat thunderously loud. He hardly dared to breathe, terrified his secret intent would be exposed.

Hidden in his pocket was a knife, stolen hours earlier from the kitchen. Both hands shook so badly he had to grip it with all his might.

I can do this.

In the cold moon’s glow, the pale neck of the slumbering man looked thin, fragile. Soon a silver blade would pierce it—blood would burst forth like a fountain.

The devil must die. Then Leon will never be in danger again.

Die!

The child lifted both arms high. At that instant—the “devil” opened his eyes.

“Ah!”

Clang!

The knife flew from trembling hands, clattering across the floor.

“Eek!”

The boy collapsed onto the bed as Jeong-oh instinctively grappled him down. Half asleep, still fogged with dreams, his instincts moved before conscious thought.

“What the—?”

Pinning him down, Jeong-oh blinked, astonished. His attacker was not a grown burglar, but a child—half his height.

“Let go of me!”

Startled by the shrill cry, Jeong-oh released him. The boy lunged immediately for the fallen knife.

“Hey!”

Dangerous. Too dangerous. At last alert, Jeong-oh seized the child into his arms.

“What are you doing!?”

“Let go! I’ll kill you!”

The kid struggled wildly, as fierce as a feral cat. Despite his tiny size, his thrashing was violent. As Jeong-oh loosened his grip to better see his face, the boy struck him squarely on the jaw with a fist.

“Urgh!”

Seizing the chance, the boy scrambled free, toppling onto his backside—but never dropping the knife. Moonlight gleamed along the steel as he raised it toward Jeong-oh. His voice cracked with rage.

“Get away from Leon!”

“…What?”

“Why did you come back here? Crawl into a cesspit and die!”

Jeong-oh gaped. The language—the venom—where did he learn such words? They didn’t even seem to have smartphones here…

While he fretted absurdly over the state of youth education, the chamber door slammed open.

David burst in. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. Swift as an eagle, he lunged, wrenching the weapon from the child’s hand.

“Let go of me!”

“Are you unharmed, my lord?”

“I said let go!”

Held firm in David’s arms, the boy flailed furiously, shouting but unable to strike.

If only I had my old body—I’d never have let him slip!

Self-conscious, Jeong-oh rubbed at his frail arms.