Chapter 4
The wind brushing against her cheeks had grown sharp enough to announce the beginning of winter.
“Let’s go inside and quickly wipe down the picture frames.”
Freya walked with her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders when she heard a strange sound. It was unmistakably the groan of someone in pain.
“Who’s there…?”
When Freya drew closer, she saw a boy collapsed just short of the orphanage’s back gate. He looked as though he had been brutally beaten—his clothes reduced to rags, blood seeping through them. Strangely, his blond hair still shimmered in the sunlight, and a faint, pleasant scent lingered around him.
Judging by his groaning, he’s definitely still alive.
Grunting with effort, Freya turned the boy onto his back.
“My goodness…”
She swore by the goddess Diana that she had never seen such a beautiful being before. The small face, eyes closed, looked almost—
“Like a cake—so pale and delicate.”
Standing there with the injured boy before her, Freya hesitated. She hated getting involved in troublesome matters.
What if I get beaten for meddling for no reason?
Just the thought of Sophia’s lash was enough to make her stomach churn.
“But I don’t want to watch such a pretty child die.”
Several children who had once lived alongside her were already buried in this orphanage yard.
After a moment of hesitation, Freya eventually went to Sophia and told her about the boy she had found in the back courtyard. Sophia, who had responded indifferently at first, changed her tune the moment she saw the boy’s face.
“I must take him in. Caring for a child who suffers so much and has no one—that is my calling.”
Freya was speechless at Sophia’s solemn declaration.
Yeah, right. Caring, my foot.
Freya herself had never once received anything resembling care from Sophia.
“Will this really be okay…?”
She watched from a distance as the boy was carried away. For a moment, she wondered if she had done something unnecessary—but soon shook her head.
“…As if I’m in any position to worry about someone else.”
Life and death were matters entrusted to the goddess Diana.
Returning to work, Freya focused on scrubbing the dust between the stairs and the picture frames with the rag in her hand.
***
Time felt like stagnant water pooled in a ditch, yet also like something rushing past in the blink of an eye. A year passed, and small and large changes occurred at the orphanage where Freya lived.
“There’s been an imperial decree ordering the removal of anything that dirties the streets.”
Those hit hardest by the decree were the children who begged and the wandering merchants who sold goods. Sophia flew into a rage when she heard the news.
“What are we supposed to do now? We don’t just have one or two mouths to feed!”
Though the orphanage was nominally a relief institution for parentless children, corruption ran rampant beneath the surface. Only a tiny fraction of the imperial subsidies was spent on the thin, slop-like meals given to the children. The only heated rooms belonged to Sophia and the headmaster. The rest of the funds flowed straight into the headmaster’s pockets. That wasn’t all—every bit of profit extorted from the children through forced pickpocketing and begging was confiscated as well.
With the imperial order in place, children who could no longer go out to work grew increasingly anxious. Lottie, who constantly hovered near Freya, spoke up.
“Freya, doesn’t it feel weird not going out to work?”
“…I don’t know.”
Freya couldn’t give Lottie the reassurance she was looking for. They weren’t family.
We could be separated at any time.
Still, it was hard to completely ignore Lottie, who followed her so devotedly. Freya quietly dropped a piece of doughnut she’d tucked into her pocket.
“Unni, is this for me?”
When Lottie smiled brightly while holding the half-eaten doughnut, Freya replied curtly. It was something Sophia had left unfinished. Knowing how obsessed Lottie was with food, Freya had saved it—but she had no intention of explaining herself.
“I don’t know. Guess it was just lying there.”
Freya searched for a quiet place to knit and wandered through the orphanage until she reached the very top. With so many children stuck inside due to the lack of work, everywhere felt unbearably crowded.
“No one will come here.”
After all, rumors said the attic was haunted.
“Look at all this dust.”
As she climbed the old stairs, dust puffed up around her hands. The creaking sounded eerie, but Freya didn’t stop. She pushed open the wooden door leading to the attic and squeezed her way inside. The interior was dimmer than expected, her vision quickly clouding in the darkness.
“It’s so dark… can I even knit in here?”
Since Sophia could no longer send them out to beg, she handed out knitting and other manual labor to the children. Except for the very youngest, everyone had a quota—failure meant going hungry.
“I can barely see.”
There was a small window, but it was coated in thick layers of dust, letting in almost no light. Freya felt around the floor and settled somewhere at random. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she noticed a faint glow flickering across from her.
“A ghost…?”
But Freya didn’t care at all. What she feared were the living, not the dead.
Then a small voice leaked out from the darkness.
“I—I’m not a ghost.”
Looking more closely, she could make out pale yellow hair, like forsythia blossoms.
Ah… that must be the boy I found in the courtyard.
She’d been so busy she’d completely forgotten about him. Feeling oddly guilty, Freya spoke in a very small voice.
“Sorry for bothering you when you’re alone. I’ll finish this and go right back down.”
She lifted her knitting slightly, in case he could see.
“You can stay.”
“……”
Loneliness clung thickly to his subdued voice. He clearly hadn’t adjusted to life at the orphanage yet.
If he acts like that, he’s not going to have it easy…
Sophia despised children who lacked awareness or weren’t obedient. The thought of that beautiful face being scarred soured Freya’s mood.
Well… what does that have to do with me anyway.
Just surviving herself was exhausting enough. Freya began working her hands briskly in the dark. If she didn’t meet her quota, she’d go hungry. Knitting was important—but unbearably tedious and tiring.
According to Sophia, items made at the orphanage sold quite well.
“Oh my, how pitiful—made by a poor orphan,” people would say.
Women who paid high prices out of sympathy were praised for their generosity. Thinking that the small woolen hat she was making would be treated the same way left Freya feeling strange.
…Pitiful child.
People freely decided whether she looked fierce or pitiable, whenever it suited them. That was what she hated most.
So annoying.
That was when she noticed the boy across from her, silently watching her hands move.
What is he, pretending I don’t exist?
Lottie’s clinginess annoyed her, but someone being too quiet bothered her just as much.
“What are you doing here?”
Unable to endure the silence, Freya spoke first. She wasn’t particularly curious—she just realized she hadn’t seen such a striking-looking boy around before.
“Cough. Cough.”
He coughed violently, and it took quite some time before he could answer.
“I’m helping Sophia with her work.”
“Wow. That’s impressive!”
So he didn’t go outside to steal or beg. Still, imagining Sophia’s vicious expression made it seem less enviable.
“Um… are you okay? Health-wise?”
Freya felt awkward after asking. No one here ever asked such things. Children who got sick usually just wasted away and died. A doctor only came when Sophia herself was ill.
“I’m fine now.”
And once again, silence fell.
Freya thought begging outside was better than being stuck inside all day knitting hats.
My fingers feel numb.
As she nearly finished one hat, the light outside the window faded.
“It’s already this late?”
She had to hurry to the dining hall. Freya quickly packed up her knitting.
“If I’m late, I might not even get porridge.”
That was when she heard uneven breathing from across the room. Light from the small window illuminated the boy’s figure. He lay collapsed atop layers of dust, his profile looking utterly exhausted.
“What… he’s actually really sick, isn’t he?”
He’d said he was fine, but clearly he wasn’t.
“He’s such a worry.”
Then and now, she found it hard to ignore him. Freya tossed the worn shawl draped over her shoulders onto his body and hurried down the rickety stairs. The noise echoed loudly, as if the stairs might collapse at any moment.
***
National policy brought sweeping changes to the orphanage.
Sophia tried secretly sending children out to beg, avoiding the eyes of inspectors, but the results were poor.
“They don’t know anything!”
Admitting the children who were caught would mean paying fines, so Sophia abandoned them instead. As a temporary measure, they made knitted goods and patchwork items to sell, but the income was negligible. Eventually, the orphanage’s operations began to falter. As a result, Shiloh—who lived in the capital—started visiting more frequently.
Oh, please! Sir Shiloh, don’t abandon me…
He always spoke to Sophia in a terrifying tone, and she always responded in tears. Despite all efforts, the orphanage’s situation worsened by the day. In the end, Sophia dismissed the maid she had employed—and Freya took her place.
…What is this supposed to be?
Freya disliked having to knit while also waiting on Sophia. From early childhood, Sophia had never once spoken kindly to her. She beat her mercilessly and starved her at the slightest provocation.
And now I’m helping her get dressed…
Grinding asbestos powder, Freya quietly gnashed her teeth.
