MTO C87

Chapter 87

“Adoption?”

“Yes. I’ve been wondering whether I should help the children find new families… Do we have any adoption procedures in place at the orphanage?”

“Oh, um—yes, technically we do. But it’s never actually been carried out before.”

Barbara fell silent, as though lost in thought. Her hands, which had been busily knitting, came to a halt. Even after the orphanage’s circumstances had improved, she continued to knit the children’s clothes herself. With seven little ones to clothe, her small hands were never at rest.

After a long pause, Barbara gave a faint, uncertain smile.

“It would be wonderful if we could find new parents for them. They’re all children who deserve to be loved. But from what I know, it’s very rare for anyone to adopt through an orphanage.”

“Why is that? Is it because people don’t know that adoption is even possible?”

“Not exactly…” Barbara hesitated before continuing, “Families that struggle financially wouldn’t take on another child, of course. But even among the wealthy, if they’re childless, they’ll usually take in a sibling’s or relative’s child instead. Everyone prefers a child with at least a trace of their own blood. Orphanage children… their origins are uncertain, and people find that unsettling.”

As Barbara spoke hesitantly, Michel’s expression darkened. The story wasn’t new to him. He too had grown up hearing endlessly that one should never take in a “black-haired beast.” He had always despised the saying that “blood is thicker than water.”

It was natural for children to cause their parents trouble while growing up—but the moment it was revealed that the child was adopted, people began to speak cruelly. They’d say things like, “You should return the child to the orphanage before they cause even bigger problems,” words that would never have been uttered if the child were their own by birth.

“I don’t quite understand it. Is bloodline really that important? They’re all so healthy and beautiful.”

Perhaps it was because he had never given birth or raised a child of his own, but to Michel, all children were equally precious. No matter their origin, every child was deserving of love simply because they were a child.

At that, Barbara suddenly began to cry. The abruptness of it left Michel flustered and confused.

“S-Sister, are you all right?”

“I’m sorry. I just… suddenly thought of my childhood.”

“Your childhood?”

Barbara nodded, wiping her tears away.

“I think I spent every day waiting for someone who would never come. Every morning, I’d wake up hoping that my parents would appear and take me home. Even though life at the orphanage wasn’t particularly hard…”

Only then did Michel realize that Barbara, too, had grown up in an orphanage. Now he understood her devotion to the children—and found himself deeply moved by her words.

The nun who had raised Jeong-oh had been kind, and his friends had been as dear as real siblings. Yet still, Jeong-oh had long waited for his mother to return. Even past the age of twenty, even after leaving the orphanage, he had waited, unable to let go of that hope.

“Do you think the children feel the same way we did?”

Barbara’s tears weren’t for her own painful memories—they were for the children who might be carrying the same sorrow. Michel, too, felt a similar fear tightening in his chest.

For now, the children were young, and since all their friends shared the same situation, they probably didn’t feel it as strange. But as they grew older, they would come to realize, bit by bit, what it meant to live without parents. They would learn it in ways that left invisible wounds.

No, perhaps even now, without realizing it, they were already waiting for someone—just as he and Barbara once had.

Michel could only hope they would not have to feel that same loneliness.

“Sister Barbara! Why are you crying?”

“Don’t cry!”

The children, who had been playing joyfully nearby, cried out when they noticed her tears. Barbara quickly wiped her cheeks and waved at them with a trembling smile.

Michel quietly watched as the children began to fool around in an effort to make her laugh again. Seeing their carefree smiles, his resolve solidified.

Those children deserved to meet good parents—to grow up surrounded by love. And it was his duty to make that happen.

But how?

Michel gently pulled a blanket over Leon, who had fallen asleep sprawled out with his belly bare. The children had played themselves into exhaustion; not one remained awake. If he listened closely, he could hear the occasional snore—or even the sound of someone grinding their teeth—which made him chuckle.

If anyone spent just one day with these kids, they’d fall in love instantly.

Hadn’t everyone at Eglence Castle already been charmed by them in no time? The servants could hardly pass the children in the halls without handing them some kind of treat, and the once-skinny little ones now had round, plump bellies like tadpoles.

It wasn’t uncommon to see knights giving the children piggyback rides down the corridors, while the maids delighted in braiding their hair in endless new styles every morning.

There was no trace of shadow left on their faces. Surrounded by warmth and affection, their smiles shone like sunlight. The word orphan no longer seemed adequate to describe them.

And yet, despite all the love they received now, one day they would have to return to the orphanage. Perhaps, even before that, they would come to realize that the people who cared for them here already had families of their own—families they loved more than them.

Michel wanted to find new families for the children before they could be hurt by that truth. They had already endured enough pain for a lifetime at such a young age.

If only people could see them without prejudice…

Lost in thought, Michel was startled by a soft knock. He carefully tiptoed out into the corridor, not wanting to wake the children.

It was Lawrence who had come knocking.

“Saint, if it’s convenient, the seamstress is available to see you now.”

“The seamstress?”

“Yes. But if it’s inconvenient, I can ask her to wait.”

Michel blinked, caught off guard, before remembering what had happened that morning. Before heading into town, Lawrence had insisted he wear his white cassock. He’d grumbled about how it dragged along the floor, and Lawrence, ever efficient, had promised to summon a seamstress to adjust it.

He hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly, but of course, Lawrence was a butler who never delayed.

Michel didn’t particularly like wearing that bright, flowing robe, but if he had to, he wanted it at least to fit comfortably—starting with trimming that ridiculous hem.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll meet her now.”

It was best to handle such things while the children slept. Michel closed the door quietly and followed Lawrence down the corridor.

Yet what he thought would be a quick visit turned into an ordeal—he was trapped by the seamstresses for quite some time.

“Oh my! I’ve never seen a priest with such an angry-looking backside! Usually, they’re all flat as cow dung from sitting and praying all day!”

“Hey! Watch your tongue in front of the Saint!”

The two introduced themselves as the Bever siblings, and they were as noisy as they were eccentric. As they measured Michel’s body, their laughter filled the room. The sister wore her hair piled so high it nearly brushed the ceiling, decorated with countless trinkets, while the brother had padded his shoulders so broadly that he nearly poked her with them.

“Look at this! His stomach’s like iron! I thought he was all soft and scholarly, but no!”

“Let me see! Oh my—he really is!”

“I, uh… exercise regularly.”

When the siblings began prodding his abs like curious children pressing buttons, Michel quickly raised a hand to cover his stomach.

“If you both start exercising diligently, yours will be just as firm.”

“Ugh, I hate sweating.”

“If I ever need to lose weight, I’d rather stop eating altogether!”

Michel nearly choked. Losing weight by starving wasn’t losing fat—it was losing muscle. And the idea of losing muscle was one of his greatest horrors.

“If you diet like that, you’ll end up gaining even more weight later!”

“What? You’re lying!”

“I’m not. You see…”

He launched into a full lecture about healthy dieting habits, though the Bever siblings only looked half-interested. But when he explained that prolonged starvation would make their bodies prone to gaining weight even from drinking water, they gasped in genuine terror.

“I thought fairies lived on dew alone!”

“But we’re human, remember?”

“Oh no! I didn’t eat anything this morning!”

“That’s all right. What matters most is eating properly from now on.”

“So, you’re saying as long as we eat moderately and move moderately, we’ll be fine?”

“Exactly. And if you really want to slim down, just increase your activity a bit and eat more vegetables instead of bread.”

The chatter from both sides was dizzying, but Michel was long accustomed to handling dozens of excitable children at once. Keeping the conversation flowing smoothly, he gave his advice with calm patience—until the siblings, invigorated by his encouragement, began to shout over each other.

“If the Saint says so, we’ll try it!”

“This time, I’ll definitely fit into Madame Adeline’s dress!”

As they chattered on about the latest fashions—how absurdly tiny the new styles were, and how mortified they’d been trying to squeeze into them—their hands worked quickly while their tongues worked faster. Their laughter rang so loudly that even if all seven children had been brought into the room, they couldn’t have drowned it out.