Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Sudden Rise in Status, Too Much
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Stories always kick off with some sudden twist.
Like monsters raiding a village, and while you're desperately fleeing, you stumble upon a holy sword.
Or maybe you've got insane talent and get taken in as the disciple of the strongest guy around.
Sudden magic wand appears, you grab it, turn into a magical girl with a frilly skirt flapping around as you take down villains—stuff like that.
But that's just stories.
In reality, sudden events are almost always bad news.
Like right now.
"Everyone, great job! Now hurry to the well, wash your faces, change into clean clothes, and come back!"
Back at the orphanage, Teresa hustled us inside, all flustered.
She'd always handled prospective adoptive parents—commoners or the occasional baron's family—with total ease.
But today, she seemed seriously rattled.
The guest must be a big shot.
At least...
'...a count, maybe?'
Honestly, no clue.
I wasn't a noble in my past life, so "count" doesn't ring any bells for how big a deal that is.
One slip-up, and your head's rolling whether it's the emperor or a count—same difference.
"Eep!"
"Wash properly!"
"Cough! Cough!"
The unusual vibe had the kids tense too.
They ignored calls to wash on normal days, but now they were scrubbing like crazy without even soap.
"Hey, you not washing?"
"I'm good."
"...Yeah?"
"Leave him! Is that what matters right now?"
I hung back, watching.
Working at the forge left my clothes caked in black soot and reeking of sweat.
But I had no plans to wash.
'Not like some bolt-from-the-blue noble's showing up here.'
Bad feeling about this.
Nobles stick to their own circles.
Throwing parties, calling commoners dirty blood— that crowd.
Why trek to the back-alley outskirts for an adoptee?
Something's up.
If a big-name noble wants to adopt, they dig through relatives or branch families and grab anyone.
Better than an uneducated orphan—kids raised with noble training.
Coming here means they need someone with a clean slate.
Whoa, really want me that bad?
"Gray! Lend me your clothes!"
"No way! I need 'em too!"
"What? Hand 'em over nice or else!"
"Aaack!"
"......"
What's so great they're scrambling like that?
The kids pulled out all stops to get adopted.
Snatching good clothes.
Fighting to hold onto theirs.
Swapping in the chaos.
And one girl secretly smearing red petal water on another's back.
Total chaos.
'Sigh, at least I made one good friend.'
Same boat, nothing to their names.
Yet dragging others down.
Pathetic sight, but whatever.
That's just how people are.
"It's all to survive."
I stared blankly out the window till the last kid left.
Hope it passes quietly...
"Dane! Where are you?"
"Damn."
Teresa's booming voice echoed down the hall.
Obviously, they'd come looking for the missing one.
Not like I blend in with the herd.
First kid she took in personally—not easy to forget.
"Just show my face and done."
I stood carefully.
Full black mode: hair, face, clothes.
No noble wants this.
Splash water, head back to sleep...
"Dane!"
"Huh?"
Out in the hall, eyes met Teresa's.
She spotted me, beamed...
"Wha—hey?"
"Where were you? Been looking everywhere!"
Grabbed me with one arm, bolted off.
The same woman who nagged endlessly about no running in halls.
Now like a goblin fleeing an adventurer.
"Whew! In this orphanage, you were my biggest worry, Dane. Finally!"
"...Me?"
"No more fretting. I'll spruce you up nice!"
"W-Wait...!"
Her iron grip clamped my waist.
Familiar pose.
Like my first day here.
Brief confusion at the absurdity.
'Fuck if I know...'
Gave up.
Things never went as planned anyway.
All I could do was dangle.
Hope it's quick this time.
I closed my eyes.
"Ho, this the kid?"
"Yes! The finest among our lovely children!"
Stinging stares poured over me.
The monocled, butler-looking stiff appraising me like livestock? Fine.
That's how it goes.
Problem: kids by the wall.
If I could translate their glares:
-That's what he wanted so bad?
-Gross.
-All an act till now.
-Filthy, Dane!
Disgusted looks flying my way.
'Fuck, no.'
Not my choice.
Dragged to the well by Teresa, ice-cold bucket shower.
Whole pail dumped—close enough.
Then fancy clothes thrust on me.
Didn't know we had this stuff.
Her secret stash for moments like this.
Clean enough to pass for a merchant kid.
"My goodness."
Teresa's satisfied grin capped it.
I became the dramatic finale kid, stealing the spotlight.
"The others are excellent too, of course. But... this must be the one you want, Mr. Dort?"
"...What makes you say that?"
"His black hair, naturally."
"......"
What the fuck.
Peaceful living room, sunlight filtering in—yet the talk was cutthroat.
Black hair got some secret power I missed?
All it got me was "foreigner" taunts.
'Knew it was rare, but...'
Not that rare.
Dark brown near-black in back alleys sometimes.
If black was special?
Sold off ages ago.
Paraded streets a year—no one grabbed me yet.
"...Deal."
"Wise choice!"
Dort decided to take the black-haired beast.
Teresa waved; kids filed out.
Mostly envious eyes.
Some mouthing curses silently.
'Balls of steel?'
Impressed.
Knowing I'm off to nobility, still?
No fear of payback.
Not that I'd bother or could.
"Sign here."
"If word gets out we took him..."
"Goodness, no."
Wait, no traces?
Bad vibe; glanced at Teresa.
She winked: no worries.
"Official papers: one each. But terms... you know?"
"Yes. Every five years, three times total. Bring him back here."
"Right. Miss the deadline or ignore our visits..."
She traced the imperial seal on the paper.
"...things could get messy."
Not ending lightly.
Cute version: tsk-tsk. Real: palace smashes your head.
No long-term chew-and-spit worries.
"...Understood."
Mid cutthroat chat.
Ears mined info.
Eyes glued to the single paper in Dort's hand.
'Hmm, that's my slave contract—no, adoption papers.'
They hate extra docs.
Grab and bolt if needed...
"Let's go."
Contract done in a flash.
Signed paper, pouch of coin handed over.
Feel like auction cattle.
"Dane, may your future brim with happiness."
Last hug from Teresa; out of orphanage.
Garden corner: carriage with eagle-and-sword crest.
Pouches'd barely buy that.
At least they're loaded—no starving.
Approach; door slid open.
Inside:
"This the child?"
"Yes."
White-haired maid to her waist.
Sword at hip.
Maids pack swords here?
"Depart."
Sat beside curious white-haired maid.
Ass jolted like a cheap bathhouse ride.
Left the orphanage I'd known a year.
Familiar streets whipped by windows.
That alley with the ring too.
'Forgot to explain the ring to Riel.'
She'll treasure it.
Not rough with stuff.
Good I gave it before parting.
'...Won't sell it for food, right?'
Growing fast on good eats... hmm.
Nah.
"...What use is this orphanage brat?"
"The Duke's judgment, no?"
"I know. No objections. Just personally dislike it."
Dapper Dort ditched monocle, loosened tie.
Slouched, leg crossed, lit smoke.
Textbook debauched noble.
'Whoa, all an act?'
That's surviving high nobility.
Gotta hustle too.
'Wait, Duke?'
Duke—right under royals?
Not a bird.
Our family's a ducal house.
'Orphan to duke's house.'
No brakes on this status rocket.
Did I just win life?
"Lucky last orphanage had him by chance. Else, months more searching."
"...Remarkable. Back-alley outskirts with such deep black hair..."
Maid gently lifted my hair tip.
Twirling to window light.
Woke up black-haired, bullied as foreigner—now shining.
Proud, Korea! National pride overdose!
"What do you need from me?"
"...?"
"...Pardon?"
"My role. Tell me the part I'll play in the duke's house. Ease noble worries a bit."
Recalled old novel tropes.
Piled flowery words.
Black hair special? They sought me hard—won't rough me up.
Or so I thought...
"This... lowly thing dares speak...?"
Dort's forehead vein throbbed; he trembled.
Oh shit.
Wrong.
Fucked.
"Sir Dort. Don't complicate things."
Braced for fist as he wound up.
Maid blocked between us.
"Innocent child, knows nothing."
"......"
"I'll explain..."
"......Hoo."
Dort slicked hair back.
"Fine. Not my first rude commoner."
"......"
"Nobles overlook this much."
Forced grin.
Hmm, not okay. Ask maid sis instead.
Won't slap outta nowhere.
"No intent to offend. Just thought you expected something..."
"Ah, expectations. Plenty."
Dort cut in, leaned close.
Maid frowned; he waved okay.
"Your role: house guard dog. Lucky black-haired birth got you in..."
Squeeze.
His right hand gripped my crown.
Ow, hurts.
"Eat our charity scraps, sit pretty."
"...Till death?"
"Ha, no. Till heir from Lady Elena and His Highness the 2nd Prince grows safe to inherit."
Hmm, heir.
Piecing Dort's clues.
Elena: duke's daughter likely.
Heir title for unborn kid? No sons.
Elena engaged to 2nd Prince.
Safe adulthood: she leaves for palace.
Temporary heir gap.
'Duke meets mishap?'
Elena can't return quick; kin proxy.
Power-hungry hyenas feast.
Rooted kin cramps future heir.
'I'm pure seat-warmer.'
Filling void.
Guard dog for real.
"Vassals run house; you can't meddle. Just shield well."
"Why not adopt trained branch noble over orphan like me?"
"Ha, how know they won't scheme power-blind? Duke wants zero issues for Elena's future."
"Trust street orphan more?"
Doesn't add up.
No binding contract.
Trust gutter kid on throne?
"Yes, easy to handle orphanage trash like you."
"What...?"
Magic leash?
Worried; Dort chuckled.
"Heh, drop the act. Your family."
"Family...?"
"Slum rats like you cling to turds for meaning. Survive hellish days."
Family? None.
Alone from wakeup.
No parent hints.
Blank stare; Dort laughed, sneered whisper:
"Refuse or disobey? Remaining orphanage 'family' sees hell."
Pardon?
Orphanage?
Those trash?