Chapter 11

Damian, who had been pouting, mumbled after a while.

"...I’m not Eli’s little brother."

"Well, but Damian, I’m older than you."

"..."

"You’re eleven, and I’m thirteen."

Seemingly at a loss for words, Damian tightly closed his mouth.

It appeared that he didn’t like being called a little brother. His pouting face seemed to say, "I’m angry," so I quickly changed the subject.

"Just kidding. I was actually thinking about something else."

"…What?"

"How warm it feels to sleep with you like this."

"Ah…"

It was a lie to get past the situation, but Damian’s cheeks turned red.

"I, I…"

Despite his hesitation, he chimed in.

So cute. I smiled and pulled the blanket over us. Outside the window, the snow was still swirling.

"Let’s go to sleep. It’s late."

"Okay."

"Have a good dream, Damian."

"…You too, Eli."

Damian whispered in a sweet, youthful voice. I closed my eyes.

Occasionally, the rattling of the window and the children’s breathing, along with Damian’s body heat, made me have a pleasant dream for the first time in a long while.

It was a dream of standing in a sunny, green meadow, feeling a refreshing breeze.

* * *

A pungent medicinal smell filled the air.

It was the smell of artificially cultivated herbs.

"Pathetic."

But it didn’t affect the man in front of him.

"Did you think you could bring me down with this scent?"

His black hair, tinged with red, looked blood-like in the lamplight.

The man, half bald, knelt before him, trembling.

"I’m sorry! I’ve committed a grave sin!"

"Since you’ve committed a grave sin, you should pay with your life."

The man said this and flicked his hand, which held a sword.

Blood was already dripping from the sword, which had been used to cut many times.

Erhardt Schuetz, the Duke of Schuetz, known for cutting down anyone who annoyed him, stood there.

The man, trembling, prostrated himself on the ground.

"Please, just once, spare my life! I didn’t know it was Duke Schuetz! Please forgive me!"

The man pressed his forehead to the ground with a thud.

"Your Grace, hear him out. You didn’t come here to kill everyone, did you?"

The knight, Ante, who stood behind the Duke, spoke in a calming tone.

"He’s asking to be killed."

However, Erhardt’s face, which spoke such brutal words, showed no mercy.

"Given my nature, I can’t just let such a request pass."

Erhardt approached the prostrate man. The closer he got, the stronger the smell of blood became.

"Before that, I have one question."

"W, what is it?"

"Where is the child?"

At Erhardt’s question, the man squeezed his eyes shut.

'So it’s come to this.'

He knew that the Duke of Schuetz was looking for a child.

It was said that he would check any child with black hair and red eyes.

And that he had come to the man’s territory to find the child.

Coincidentally, the man’s slave also had black hair and red eyes.

He had bought the slave cheaply, thinking it was a good deal...

'Could that child really be the Duke of Klaidor’s son?'

Fortunately, he had entrusted the child to someone else, just in case. Grateful for his decision, the man spoke.

"The child... is at an orphanage."

"An orphanage?"

"Yes. I know someone who runs an orphanage. I thought it would be better for the child to be there than in this rough place."

Erhardt nodded in agreement.

"Alright. If that’s what you want."

He raised his sword high.

"It’s true! It’s really true!"

The man screamed and then burst into tears. Erhardt’s face twisted as if he had seen something unpleasant.

"Your Grace."

At Ante’s call, Erhardt turned to him with an annoyed look.

"What?"

"The man’s words don’t seem entirely false."

He frowned.

"What do you mean? I’ve searched every orphanage in the empire. If the child was there, I would have found him long ago."

"I received a message a few days ago. It said there was a child with black hair and red eyes at Saint Orphanage in this area."

Erhardt’s eyes turned cold.

"Why didn’t you tell me this before?"

"It’s just called an orphanage, but it’s a place where they bring orphaned children to do all sorts of dirty work. Many children are adopted quickly. I wanted to confirm the truth before telling you—"

Ante’s words were cut off. Erhardt’s sword was at his throat.

If he had applied a little more force, his head would have been cut off.

But Ante didn’t flinch. Neither did Erhardt.

"I want to kill you. Right here, right now."

"…I’m sorry, Your Grace."

Erhardt lowered his sword, glaring at Ante. He didn’t have time to waste.

"Is the orphanage where you sent the child called Saint?"

"Yes, it is. Saint Orphanage!"

The man, who had been prostrate, shouted as if he had found a lifeline.

"Send a message. Tell them I’ll visit immediately."

"Yes."

Ante moved to follow Erhardt.

The man, relieved, sighed.

"Ah."

Suddenly, he stopped.

"First, take care of this one."

"Y, yes?!"

"Understood."

"Wait, Your Grace! Your Grace! Ahh!"

Despite the desperate plea, he didn’t turn back.

* * *

'I was wondering why I had a good dream.'

I sighed heavily, looking at the coughing Damian.

"Damian, are you in a lot of pain?"

"No, I’m not in pain…"

But his voice was hoarse.

Maybe from the cold wind and crying. Damian had a fever.

"You’re not in pain? Your voice sounds like that."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Tell me the truth. When did you start feeling sick?"

"…Last night."

"What? And you didn’t tell me anything?"

At my scolding, Damian’s face fell, and his eyebrows drooped.

'I was so happy thinking it was warm.'

I sighed and asked Tommy, who was holding a thermometer.

"How’s the fever?"

"It’s high. You’ll have to stay in bed today."

While saying this, Tommy muttered, "But seeing how he’s still active despite the high fever, he seems healthy…"

I pretended not to hear and put my hands on my hips.

"See, Damian. Did you hear that? You have to stay in the infirmary today."

"…What about Eli?"

"I have to work. If I don’t, the principal will be angry."

I said this playfully, but Damian’s face turned serious.

"I’ll be back soon. You know I’m good at my job, right?"

"I know, but…"

"I’ll be back really soon. I’ll make some soup and bring it to you, so just close your eyes and count to a hundred."

"Okay."

Despite his reluctance, Damian nodded obediently.

"But you have to come back quickly…?"

"Of course."

What a good boy. I gently stroked Damian’s hot cheek and got up.

Then, I heard Tommy, who was behind me, mutter with a disgusted look, sticking out his tongue.

"Completely… a fox."

"What? What are you saying?"

"Ah? Just talking to myself."

Tommy laughed awkwardly and quickly left the room.

Is he sick? I looked at Tommy’s back with a suspicious eye and followed him out.