Chapter 11

Aisha was a truly clever child.

The child hiding inside the drainage passage knew perfectly well that because it was filthy and narrow, no one would come inside.

But Calypse bent down without hesitation.

As a result, his neatly pressed suit trousers and shoes were stained with dirt, but he did not care.

“Aisha.”

He would gladly do far more than this.

“Take my hand. It’s dangerous in there.”

Because I am that child’s only hope.

“Do not even think about anything strange.”

Ironically, I was the one who had wished for death.

“I can’t die either while I still have to clean up the mess you made.”

At his warning, the blond head flinched and looked up.

Had she been crying until just now?

The area around the eyes that took up half her face was flushed red.

The child looked at the hand held out to her and parted her lips slightly in surprise.

But then, as though she had realized something, she shook her head firmly.

“...If you help me, you’ll get caught too.”

Even now she was worrying about me. She really was a fool with no sense.

To begin with, this was not the little brat’s fault.

Quite a bit of time had passed since the child told him that story.

In the meantime, anything could have happened to the young lady of the main line, and perhaps the Pose family had already moved her elsewhere.

Even if the whole thing had been a lie in itself, the child had her reasons for having no choice but to lie.

“It is adults who bear responsibility. The damned adults who drove you into this situation should bear it.”

His low voice, so desperate it had turned ragged, split in two.

She had been close enough to reach if he stretched out a little farther. But regrettably, the drainage passage was too small for him to go in any farther.

“So take my hand, Aisha.”

It was when his breathing was growing rougher and rougher with frustration at the body that seemed within reach and yet would not reach—

Rustle—

Something moved inside.

Calypse, who could not see what was happening below because he was stretching out his hand, stopped short. That moment felt like an eternity.

Please, please.

As he murmured that in desperate earnestness, something small gripped his thumb.

“Don’t let go. Keep holding on.”

There was not even time to be startled.

Calypse pulled the small body out in one swift motion and hugged Aisha with all his strength.

“!”

Because of that, the child spread her palm wide in tension. But he had no room to pay attention to that right now.

If he had been just a little later, he might never have heard the sound of this child’s tiny heartbeat again.

No one might ever have heard her sobbing all alone.

‘Your Grace is my savior.’

Suddenly, he remembered the words this child had confessed to him.

But as he listened to the small heartbeat against his chest, he realized one thing.

It was not true that I was your salvation.

On the contrary, it was your small, desperate wish that saved me.

So the one who was saved was me.

***

A little while later.

Time passed, and crimson sunset began to flicker below the horizon.

“Aisha!”

“Aisha, where are you?!”

The knights had never imagined that Aisha would dare hide inside the Ariana garden, so they were still searching outside the castle.

Knox, who was circling the grounds with them, let out a sigh.

“...I should have just thrown her out back then.”

And in the end, all this had happened.

The little brat’s claim that the young lady of the main line was in Duke Pose’s territory had been exposed as a lie, and the little brat had run away.

Of course she did. The contract even said it would be beheading if they failed to find the young lady of the main line.

In truth, he had never believed it from the beginning.

What kind of judgment could a five-year-old whose brain had not even fully developed possibly make?

Calypse had been far too swayed by emotion, and he himself had failed to support him properly.

“...Your Grace?”

It was then.

He had sunk into his troubled thoughts for a moment, but a knight muttering to himself while rummaging through the bushes brought him back to his senses.

“Your Grace...?”

Hurriedly following the knight’s line of sight, he saw a tall man walking from the direction of the garden entrance with something in his arms.

No way.

Lifting his monocle in unease, Knox’s mouth fell open.

The small thing was Aisha.

Aisha, with her eyes closed as though dead.

“Your Grace!”

Appalled, Knox shoved the knights aside and ran forward.

“Surely you have not already carried out the beheading? Contract or not, she is only a child. If word gets out that a little brat was beheaded, the image of the Kreutz family will also—”

“Shh.”

It was then. Calypse’s red eyes, visible within the black mask, turned toward Knox.

“You’ll wake the child.”

“What?”

“And beheading, of all things. What if she gets startled and cries?”

“What?”

What in the world was going on here?

Rendered speechless, Knox pinched his own cheek, wondering if perhaps this was a dream.

It hurt far too much. Which meant it was reality.

“Your Grace. For the record, the first person to bring up the word beheading was Your Grace hims—”

“There is that word again.”

“What?”

He had only pointed out a mistake Calypse himself had made in the past.

Yet Calypse sighed instead, as though Knox were the one being disagreeable.

“She has already been through enough. Do we really need to pick at a wound and make trouble for no reason? By waking her up?”

He even scolded him.

The very man who had written beheading into the contract and sealed it with his own hand.

“Your Grace. Have you lost your mind?”

Knox went blank from the unexpected friendly fire.

Whether he did or not, Calypse, carrying Aisha, walked right past Knox and disappeared.

“Did His Grace find Aisha?”

Just then, a knight who had seen the two of them came running over and asked breathlessly.

“That child called Aisha.”

Knox muttered as though under a spell.

“Could it be that she turned out to be a daughter His Grace gave birth to himself, or something like that?”

“...What?”

At Knox’s sudden question, the bewildered knight stared at Calypse’s retreating back as he entered the castle grounds.

...Is he seriously asking that?

He did not know what this was, but Assistant Knox was not the kind of man to say something so absurd for no reason.

“Can... can men have children too?”

Scratching the back of his neck, the knight asked in complete seriousness, but Knox could not even answer and still stood there stupefied.

***

Last night, I had a good dream.

It was a dream in which my mother and father, who had nearly died in an accident, recovered miraculously.

A dream where I was not left in a relative’s house, and instead grew up loved in our own small but happy home.

That sort of hopelessly ordinary fairy tale.

Oh, and for the record, the best part was the bed.

I had never once lain on a bed in my life.

But now that would never happen again.

Because,

because—

...

“Mm.”

My eyes opened.

On a bed.

“......?”

I reached out instinctively, but something soft blocked me.

Once I came to my senses, I realized I could not properly move my legs or my body.

“What is this...?”

I realized I had been wrapped up inside a white blanket like a cocoon.

With only my face and eyes peeking out.

“...What is this. Did I get kidnapped?”

Flap—

This level of blanket cocoon was something I could unravel with a sharp flurry of footwork.

But the problem started after that.

Is this a noble’s bedroom?

A ceiling painted with luxurious religious art, and white pillars.

Gold tassels hung from the thick purple canopy set over the king-size bed, swaying in the breeze.

It did not seem to be a kidnapping, at least.

If I had been kidnapped, they would have tied me up with rope instead of blankets.

“Little one. You’re awake?”

At that moment, along with the sound of the door opening, a familiar low voice called to me.

It was definitely mister gardener’s voice.

“Mister?”

But when I turned my head—

“...No, who are you?”

Some unfamiliar man was standing there.

Not in a dim robe, but in a neat outfit with a white shirt.

Broad shoulders honed by exercise, and an inverted-triangle upper body that narrowed toward the waist. Thick black hair.

White skin smooth as marble, and red eyes sending me a calm gaze.

He was a handsome man who looked as though he had stepped out of a masterpiece.

“Who am I? I’m mister gardener, the very one you called until your mouth wore out.”

He answered as though he had heard nothing worth remarking on.

...That handsome man is mister gardener?

Are the people in this world just that absurdly good-looking across the board?

No, that can’t be it. The knights didn’t look like that.

Blink, blink—

Slowly rubbing my eyes, I looked at mister’s face once more and marveled.

Whatever else was going on, a feast for the eyes was always welcome.

Just then, mister came over carrying a sandwich prepared on a tray and sat down in a chair by the tea table.

“You need to eat breakfast. Sit down.”

Tap, tap—

Then he tapped the tea table with his index finger, as though telling me to hurry up and sit.

Oh, right. I had hidden in the drainage passage and then mister found me.

But still.

How exactly did I survive?

I was a spy.

A spy who, on top of that, had failed to fulfill the contract promising the location of the young lady of the main line, and should have been sentenced to beheading.

Since mister gardener had found me, my existence should naturally have reached Duke Calypse Kreutz’s ears too.

Then why was I still alive?

And if mister gardener was a commoner, why was this bedroom as extravagant as a noble’s?

Why was mister gardener so handsome?

Carrying all those questions, I hopped down from the bed.

“Mister.”

“Why.”

I climbed wriggling into the chair and was just about to begin asking my questions in earnest, when—

“How exactly did I surv—”

“Eat first.”

Suddenly the sandwich being pushed into my mouth cut my question off.

Right. Food first.

Chew, chew—

I swallowed the bite of sandwich I had taken.

“I ate, so that’s enough, right? So now—”

“If you’ve eaten, you need wiping too.”

But this time a handkerchief cut off my question.

Drawing his brows together in concentration, he wiped the bread crumbs from around my mouth, and only then smiled faintly in satisfaction.

“There. Now go ahead.”

That took forever. Absolutely forever.

I blurted out the question I had been holding back.

“When am I getting beheaded?!”

“There is no such thing. I tore up the contract.”

“What? Whaaaat?!”

My mouth fell wide open at the shocking statement, but mister’s expression was perfectly peaceful.

Surely when he said adults should take responsibility,

he had not meant he was going to recklessly tear up the contract and run away.

“Mister! That’s nonsense!”

I grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

Or more precisely, I tried to shake him. Of course he did not actually budge.

“Mister, how could you tear up a contract sealed by Duke Calypse Kreutz?! Mister, don’t tell me you ran away from the Kreutz estate because of me?!”

“...You really do spin wild stories.”

Mister sighed. Then, with me still clutching his collar, he held something out.

“Calm down first and read this.”

“......?”

“It’s the adoption application you wanted.”