Chapter 9
Chapter 9
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: 2. Orphan Gacha Probability Up Event
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The orphanage's day started earlier than one might expect. Two people were rising at dawn.
Orphans didn't have to wake up early by default, but someone had to prepare breakfast, so it was unavoidable.
Her younger siblings, no longer little children but now entering their teenage years, did get up early too—but not at the crack of dawn.
Even so, a cheerful tune naturally escaped from Laila, the girl standing in the kitchen.
After all, this was her favorite time of day.
"La... Laila. Up early again today?"
"Yes, Director. This is my job, after all."
"Uh, yeah. Well..."
The Director entered the kitchen a step behind, flashing an awkward smile. Laila beamed at him like a flower in full bloom.
Normally, the Director handled breakfast at the orphanage. Laila had watched him stay up latest yet rise earliest to prepare it alone. At some point, she began helping him. It was after she realized her dream.
At first, it was a string of mishaps—burning eggs, scorching bread, charring vegetables—but now she was quite skilled. After all, she'd been doing morning prep with the Director for nearly a year.
"Laila, aren't you getting up too early every day? You're still growing, so you should sleep more..."
"I'm fine, Director. Besides, I'm almost done with my growth spurt, aren't I?"
"No, well... you could still grow more."
"Thank you for worrying, Director. But you go out and procure all the ingredients yourself. I have to help at least this much. Last time, you even went to the neighboring city for quality stuff."
"That was for the local residents—"
"More than that, I love doing this nowadays."
"Do you have a talent for cooking? I didn't think so..."
Talent. She appreciated him saying that, but Laila knew she had no gift for it. After a year of helping with mornings, she hadn't become proficient or seen big improvements—just familiarity.
The moment the Director finished washing vegetables, she took them to chop. When he fried eggs, she readied plates. When he sliced bread, she set out jam made from recently grown fruit.
Their perfect synergy made prep smooth, but it didn't mean Laila's cooking had improved much. Compared to her sibling with real culinary talent, she was utterly average.
'Still, I've been taking cooking lessons from my sibling every day lately...'
A few more years here, and she might surpass even the Director's skills. Laila's lips curved up at the thought.
As breakfast prep wrapped up, Laila reluctantly left the kitchen first and headed to the second-floor right room. Left was for boys, right for girls.
They'd always slept separately, but used to huddling together in the slums, they sometimes gathered. Lately, though, that had stopped.
It wasn't bad blood. Her siblings were hitting growth spurts and becoming aware of boys and girls being different.
"Mina, breakfast."
"Sis... already?"
"You've been taking longer with morning prep lately. Didn't you ask me to wake you thirty minutes early?"
"Yeah... I did."
And Laila's only sister, Mina, was smack in puberty these days. Avoiding her brothers for no reason, holing up in her room more, prickly in odd ways. She even dodged the Director.
The Director said it was natural. Laila had secretly worried if she'd go through the same phase and start avoiding him.
But puberty or whatever never hit Laila. Good thing.
"Itadakimasu!"
"Eat up."
After waking everyone, they gathered for breakfast. Laila's duties had increased lately—she had to watch their plates closely.
As Laila's sharp eyes scanned the dishes, one sibling caught in her gaze.
"Eric."
"...L-Laila sis. See, it's like this."
"I told you to eat your broccoli too. No picky eating."
"Eeeek."
"You used to eat it fine. What's the problem?"
"B-But... broccoli tastes bad."
"The Director went all the way to the next city, carefully picking it out for our health. You gonna waste his effort?"
"S-Sorry, Director."
"No, it's fine. If he doesn't want it, can't force him. L... Laila, don't be too hard on him."
"Yes, Director."
Laila bowed to the Director, who mediated as she sternly scolded her picky brother. Naturally, she wasn't upset.
Picky eating itself thrilled her. As the Director predicted a year ago, her siblings had become kids who fussed over sides—not slum rats eating scraps to survive.
So Laila shot the Director a subtle glance. It was a memory just between them. He nodded awkwardly, and fulfillment bloomed in her heart.
A shared memory, precious and private. Confirming he remembered was pure joy.
"""Thanks for the meal!"""
"Good. Eric, you're on dishes today. Mina, finish yesterday's mending. Brook, you know you're off to the inn for work, right? Finally, Damian, cleaning duty—get started. Everyone, begin!"
"...L-Laila? Assigning chores is my—"
"You were cooking since dawn, Director. Rest now. Nap if you're tired."
"Uh..."
"Then I'll clean with Damian!"
After strong-arming(?) the Director to rest, Laila swept the orphanage with her brother Damian. He had farming talent and was meticulous, but even he marveled at her.
"Sis is amazing. Cleaning even there? Honestly, no one but the Director uses the third floor now."
"That's why it needs extra care. If he visits and finds dust, thinking we slacked..."
"A-Alright. Extra attention to the third floor."
"Good."
Overwhelmed by Laila's silent pressure, Damian cleaned fervently. Satisfied, Laila entered the Director's third-floor office to clean.
She never let any sibling—or even cleaning duty—touch this room.
They now tacitly accepted only Laila cleaned it. Inside, she did so meticulously, as always.
Cleaning done, it was noon. Quick lunch prep with the Director, eat together, then their special orphanage time.
Talent training.
"See you later!"
"Have fun."
Brook, with cooking talent, headed to the inn kitchen for work. Damian, farming prodigy, checked the now-large orphanage garden and fruit trees.
Mina, mending whiz, holed up puberty-style in her room. Eric, baking genius, started bread for everyone.
All thanks to the Director finding jobs or gigs.
'He scoured city shops, handpicking work they could do.'
It let them hone talents properly, not just repeat basics. The Director knew cooking, baking, mending somewhat—but not expert level.
Plus, earnings went straight to orphanage funds. Proudly, they insisted on it all. He pocket-money portioned some as "your earnings."
But not everyone loved talent time. Laila from a year ago hadn't.
For her, without clear talent unlike her siblings, it was boring and hated.
'Feeling like the Director was stealing my siblings... like I was becoming unnecessary.'
Silly now, but back then, from the slums where caring for them was life, their independence felt threatening.
If they hadn't gone to those snowy mountains, trapped in the avalanche cave—what would she be?
Lost in thought, Laila smiled.
'Even then.'
She'd have trusted the Director eventually, dreamed like now. He... would never abandon her.
Shaking off distractions, Laila focused. First, writing letters. Monthly thank-yous to Beril Count for donations.
His replies oddly mentioned her favorite foods or growth—but she ignored it. No interest.
This was just once-a-month anyway. Her real task:
"Budget check and expense ledger today..."
Admin work.
Laila knew she had no talent for it. Desk-bound paperwork for hours clashed with her nature.
But she ignored preferences. Helping the Director, advancing her dream.
Morning prep, chore assignments, his office cleaning, orphanage admin—all for him.
Laila dreamed.
'I want to be... this orphanage's staff.'
And.
'With the Director, forever and ever...'
Snapping from sweet reverie an hour later.
Finishing admin late, she reported immediately.
"Sorry, Director."
"No, it's fine... you handling it helps tons."
"I'll never mess up again."
"Uh, Laila?"
"Yes!"
"You wrote to Lord Richard today, right? ...Anything to say to me?"
"Nope."
"Really?"
"Nothing at all."
"...I see."
The Director sighed, deeply frustrated.
Then, resolute, he stood.
"Laila, as you know, our orphanage is under a year old. Kids are building rep and trust via inn, bakery, farm work. Adoptions soon."
"Yes."
"So, in a way... you're already working here part-time."
"...Yes!"
He gets it. The Director saw through her.
She never voiced her dream. Wanted him to notice naturally.
That's why she'd ramped up duties over the year.
Biting her lip to contain bursting joy.
The Director spoke cautiously.
"So, how about... t-temporary staff?"
"...Pardon?"
"No, I mean... I get your feelings, but it's early to settle on a dream. Plus, you have... other paths."
Beril Count Family's adopted daughter.
Lord Richard hadn't given up, kept donating—the lingering option.
The Director, truly caring for their futures, had urged it all year.
But Laila's heart aimed at one alone.
'Step by step.'
Keep advancing slowly. No adoption, reject offers, pile on work—soon he'd need her irreplaceably.
Perfect plan. Laila smiled inwardly.
"Good. So, Laila?"
"Yes. Laila, the orphanage's temporary 'staff.'"
"Right, 'temporary' staff Laila. Bit late to say, but you know back alleys and slums better than me, right?"
"Well... yeah?"
"I need your help."
Hated recalling those days, but for the Director's request—anything.
Resolved, Laila answered instantly.
"I'll help however! But... why the slums?"
"Trying to bring in a new mer—er, orphan."
"...Pardon?"
"Will you help me?"
At those words, Laila...
...couldn't reply right away.