“[I clearly told them not to come anymore. And yet they—]”

“They say you’ll be extinguished.”

[.......]

“If you keep holding out like this, extinction is guaranteed.”

“[I know.]”

“You know, and you’re still doing this?”

“[I can’t help it.]”

Perhaps she had already heard it from Reaper Havel; even at the word extinction, the director grandmother’s face remained composed.

“[Those children need me.]”

“But you died. What can the dead even do?”

[.......]

“Look after the children for a moment here and there? You know that’s your own attachment.”

“[I...]”

“It isn’t good for the children either. It’s not something worth accepting extinction for.”

Camilla clicked her tongue.

“Above all, the teachers here can do at least that much. You handpicked them yourself—do you distrust them that much?”

In the end, a long sigh slipped from the director grandmother’s lips.

“[Because I’m anxious.]”

“About what?”

The director grandmother’s gaze turned toward the main building.

“[My son.]”

****

“Pardon?”

“I said to cut the food budget.”

The son who had newly taken the post in place of the director who had passed away not long ago was a man in his mid-thirties, fairly young.

The first thing he did upon assuming the position of this orphanage’s director was gather all the ledgers to check them.

“It isn’t just the food budget.”

Clicking his tongue over and over, he picked up one of the ledgers piled high on the desk.

“The amount being spent on useless things is far too much.”

The new director tossed the ledger back onto the desk and kept shooting sharp looks at the people standing before him.

“Is this a noble house? Why are you procuring ingredients of such high quality? The clothes as well. There are plenty of far cheaper ones. Tsk.”

“B-but those were the previous director’s instructions.”

“That’s right—she told us to buy only the very best of everything the children use and eat—”

“Enough.”

He cut them off at once, as if there was no need to hear more.

“So we’re going to change it.”

The new director, Heman. He disliked every last thing about the operational principles his mother had maintained all this time.

“She should have kept charity work within bounds.”

Heman’s family had been in business for generations and owned wealth that lacked nothing.

But from childhood to now, Heman had never once felt that his family was rich.

Why? Because he never had the chance to enjoy that wealth.

How am I any different from an orphan?

His mother hadn’t raised him any differently from the orphanage children.

She gave him the same food the children ate, and the clothes were the same as well.

No, if anything, because I was her own child, my place in line got pushed even further back.

So how did others see him?

Everyone treated Heman like a parentless orphan. No matter how he cried that he wasn’t, that he had parents, it did no good.

Both his father and mother prioritized the orphanage children over their own son.

Not only the state subsidies, but even the profits from their other businesses—most of it was poured into the orphanage children.

Why did it have to be that way?

The older he got, the less he could understand his parents.

Even when his father passed, even when his mother passed, the only words they left to him were these:

Please take good care of the children.

That was their will. Nothing more.

Are all orphanages like this? Hardly. Most are busy stuffing the state subsidies into their own pockets.

But his parents had shaken out every last bit of the wealth they had and devoted it all to this damned orphanage...

“From today, report every single expense to me before it’s used.”

“But...!”

“Do you have an objection?”

“Well—”

“Those who do can leave at once. Your severance will be calculated precisely and paid.”

Everyone clamped their mouths shut.

Most of those gathered here had worked in this place for over twenty years.

Before it was a workplace, it was the space they had devoted their lives to, the place where their beloved family was.

How could they leave all those children?

All they could do at the new director’s words was bow their heads low.

****

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“[Obvious?]”

“I’d have hated it too.”

Listening to the story of the newly appointed director, Camilla clicked her tongue again and again. It was frustrating that the director grandmother didn’t understand her at all.

“Who would like parents who take care of other children more than their own?”

From the orphans’ point of view, from others’ point of view, they were people as good as any could be.

Even to Camilla herself, it seemed almost miraculous that such kind, virtuous people existed.

But from the standpoint of their child?

Isn’t it the worst?

How did the son feel, growing up from childhood almost no different from an orphan? How did it feel to watch parents who always put the orphans first?

“You were in the wrong.”

Could he truly have felt parental affection, familial love, properly?

Children feel many emotions from things simpler than one thinks. When they are treated differently from others, their self-esteem can rise—or fall.

When they receive more praise than other children, when a hand pats them one extra time—

In that process, a child perceives clearly that someone regards them as special, that they are loved by that person.

Through such steps, their self-esteem rises.

“But what if they’re treated exactly the same as the other children?”

And by no one other than their own parents.

“[I loved my son. Is it wrong that I loved the other children the same?]”

“That’s not what I mean.”

There was no disagreement that she was an extraordinary person.

How could someone love their own child and others’ children exactly the same? It was amazing that such a thing was possible.

Well.

That was why she’d even been elevated to become a deity. But...

“Did your son know?”

“[Pardon?]”

“That you loved him.”

“[Why, of course—]”

“I’m not so sure.”

Camilla shook her head.

“People say family love is known without saying it...”

But is that really possible? She herself had never had a proper family, so she didn’t know.

“Sometimes you only understand when it’s put into words.”

[.......]

The director grandmother could no longer speak easily.

She had believed she’d conveyed enough parental love to her son—but had she not?

Was it wrong that she had not discriminated and had loved him the same as the other children?

Mom, I got a hundred on my test this time!

My boy, you did so well.

Hehe.

I should make something delicious for you today.

Really?

Of course. Today we’ll go home early togeth—

Bang!

Director, Jenny finally learned all her letters!

My goodness! Really? Our Jenny is truly amazing!

Mom, I...

Jenny, I’ll make you something very tasty today. Heman, you can have dinner here tonight, too.

...Okay.

Why was that memory surfacing now? Her son, nine years old, the first time he’d proudly come with a test scored at a hundred.

The sight of the child bowing his head weakly at her words...

After a moment of silence, the director grandmother forced herself to speak.

“[If Heman were to realize that I loved him—loved my son—so very much, would those actions of his to ruin the orphanage change even a little?]”

“They would.”

If he realized his mother’s love, at the very least he wouldn’t thoughtlessly ruin the orphanage she had cherished to death.

No sooner had Camilla casually answered in the affirmative than a quest she had never asked for dropped into her lap.

“[May I ask you for a favor?]”

****

“Welcome.”

Director Heman of the orphanage faced an unannounced visitor who had appeared early in the morning without any prior appointment.

If it had been anyone else, he might have furrowed his brow. But if the other party was one of the Empire’s few titled ladies, it was a different story.

“I heard you visited our orphanage a few days ago as well.”

Donations were always welcome.

“I have a bit of a connection to this place.”

“A connection?”

“I was close with your mother.”

“...Pardon?”

It was the first he’d heard of it. He hadn’t heard such a thing from his mother, of course, nor from any of the staff.

“We confided our worries to each other.”

“...R-right?”

Heman’s expression grew stranger still.

How?

No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t understand. As far as he knew, his mother had no point of contact with House Sorpel.

And he’d heard that Camilla Sorpel before him had only first visited his orphanage recently. Yet she claimed to have known his mother?

“I have something to pass on.”

“To me?”

Before Heman could dig deeper, Camilla raised another subject.

“There’s something the former director entrusted to me before she died.”

At Camilla’s glance, Dorman—who had been standing quietly to the side—set a fairly large box down on the table.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t... know?”

“I was only asked. She told me that if she died, I should deliver this to her son.”

Camilla watched Heman’s increasingly baffled face for a moment, then rose before he could ask more questions.

“You’re leaving already? At least have some tea...” 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

“No need. I had some at home.”

Startled, Heman stood up as well.

“No need to see me out.”

“Ah, yes.”

With a light wave, Camilla quickly left.

Thwack.

As the door closed, his gaze shifted back to the box.

“What in the world is this...”

His face was still full of questions.

What could be inside this box? What had his mother entrusted to the Sorpel lady?

Click!

Opening the wooden box, Heman frowned slightly at the jumble of odds and ends inside. It was, quite literally, junk.

“What on earth is... hm?”

Then, as he recognized the contents, his ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) eyes began to tremble.

“This is...”

The first thing to catch his eye was a book—the book he had loved most as a child.

“No way...”

Heman hurried to check the other items as well.