Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Strange and Warm
Her aunt hoped
that the child would remain ignorant forever.
That way, she could control and exploit her at will.
Words,
letters,
the ways of the world.
She gave her no chance to learn anything.
So the child
was slower to develop than her peers.
But she knew the word "kidnapping" all too well.
The child's parents were wealthy.
And with the fortune they had amassed,
there were far too many who hated them.
Enemies on all sides.
Those who approached for money,
those who harbored grudges against their misdeeds—plenty of both.
Everyone who came near them
hid blades behind false smiles.
The child's parents trusted no one and accepted no one fully.
They always kept up walls when judging people.
They built a sturdy wall between the child and the world.
And yet—
they were her parents.
The child was precious to them.
They didn't want her hurt because of their own karma.
So they always told her,
"Don't trust anyone."
"Never go with strangers."
"Be most wary of smiling faces."
"You could get kidnapped."
And so "kidnapping"
became a word she heard constantly from her parents' mouths.
They whispered it like a spell every day, even before she learned to speak.
The child
didn't know the meaning of each word,
but she vaguely understood the emotion they pointed to.
The world was—
strange and cold,
a scary place where no one should be trusted.
And that became fact
because of her one and only aunt.
The child
was afraid of people.
She couldn't believe any kindness.
But why?
"If I pick you up now, would that count as kidnapping you again?"
It was a indifferent, languid tone.
Yet somehow, it felt warm.
Strangely so,
something deep in her chest
suddenly welled up fiercely.
"If you don't like it, refuse."
"……."
"Just say no, and I won't take you."
At those words,
it felt like a tightly bound cord somewhere inside loosened.
The child closed her eyes just like that.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ It was a warmth that melted her chilled body.
Peaceful,
and so very unfamiliar.
Enough to wake her from a deep sleep she hadn't had in so long.
The child opened her eyes.
Slowly,
very slowly.
A new sight,
and an even stranger warmth.
And then,
a somewhat familiar man came into view.
"...Awake?"
The man drew closer.
Her heart pounded wildly at that slow movement.
Fear, anxiety, terror.
The memories etched into her body made her shrink back reflexively.
Her mind knew nothing,
but her body reacted instinctively, swiftly.
Hold her breath,
curl up,
don't move.
The man's voice kept coming.
"Cold?"
"Mm…."
"What's your name?"
The child just huddled, trying not to respond.
She had learned that silence
was the safest defense.
"...Row. That's my name."
The child slowly lifted her head.
Not out of fear or curiosity.
She had been drawn in without realizing it.
The warmth in those words
had cracked the heart she'd kept closed for so long.
As she stared at the man, she met red eyes and snapped back to herself.
She lowered her head again.
She mustn't meet his gaze.
Or else,
another
slap would come flying.
Just like her one and only aunt had done.
The anxiety
became reality.
The man's hand reached out boldly.
"...Ah!"
She flinched and pulled back.
Terrified, she huddled and reflexively covered her head.
"Really cold?"
But—
what returned wasn't pain, but coziness.
The man was strange somehow.
He didn't hit her,
didn't glare sharply.
Instead—
he draped a blanket over her.
He held out something from his bosom.
A small, soft ball of fur.
A pure white rabbit.
"Hold this for a bit. It might run away."
The man placed the rabbit in her arms.
It was alive.
Warm.
Unconsciously, the child hugged it tightly.
"Don't hold it too tight. It bites."
Her eyes went wide.
The child hated pain.
If she got hurt, she'd get scolded again.
But—
she didn't want to let go of this warmth.
She held it awkwardly, clumsily.
It was scary, but she didn't want to let it go from her arms.
It was that warm.
"Good job."
Praise.
The first in so very long.
Strangely, it made her want to cry.
That short phrase pierced deep into her heart.
Emotions she'd kept locked away,
the warmth she'd forgotten,
slowly surfaced.
The child stared fixedly at the man sitting by the fireplace.
The man was still indifferent.
His expression languid,
not paying her much mind.
Not approaching,
not moving away,
just quietly gazing at the fire.
He
was the scary kind of person her parents had warned about.
A stranger who had taken her away.
The very "kidnapping" they told her to beware of most.
Yet he wasn't scary.
Her tightly wrapped heart kept loosening.
He made her want to trust him.
The man
was the most unusual person she'd ever seen.
He didn't threaten.
Didn't order her around.
Didn't look at her with pity.
And moreover—
he stuck both hands into the campfire,
then tried to put the rabbit into the boiling pot,
"...Should I start by preparing the rabbit?"
He was trying to kill the rabbit he'd told her to hold.
The child hugged the rabbit in shock.
She shook her head vigorously.
But he
said, "Okay. I won't."
Unlike the adults she knew,
he simply nodded at her refusal.
That one phrase eased her tension.
But…
his hands were still in the hot fire.
Fear surged.
She was afraid the warmth she'd felt
would burn away in an instant, scatter like ashes.
‘...No.’
So she clung desperately again.
Just hoping
this person wouldn't get hurt,
wouldn't disappear.
The child clung desperately.
For the first time,
trying to protect someone.
Her small, skinny arms wrapped tightly around his arm.
She still couldn't speak,
but her heart cried out earnestly.
‘Don’t.’
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘Please.’
And finally.
That hand
rested on her head.
Very gently,
softly,
patting.
"Okay. I won't."
"So let go now."
The child
thought as she slowly, very slowly released her arms.
‘...I didn’t get scolded.’
The man was truly strange.
His eyes,
his tone,
his actions.
He said he was fine because he was a dragon,
massive horns and claws suddenly appeared,
and he seriously pondered, "Should I make you eat my tail?"
But
the strangest thing was—
even after seeing and hearing all that,
being by the man wasn’t scary at all.
On the contrary,
it was so warm that…
she thought it might be okay to stay like this.
She didn’t refuse his embrace.
She gulped down the bitter powder he offered.
Not because she didn’t want to get scolded,
not out of fear,
but because for the first time, she felt ‘it might be okay.’
"Good job."
At the praise that came again,
her whole body tingled.
The man muttered indifferently.
"...Tomorrow, maybe I’ll buy some books for once."
"To learn about you, I need to study first."
At those words,
something clicked.
It rippled through her heart.
The world was still scary.
Scary,
frightening,
something she wanted to keep away.
But—
‘...I want to know too. About you.’
For the first time,
such a thought came.
The child quietly closed her eyes.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Creeeak—
At the ear-piercing sound, the child opened her eyes.
The man
was trying to go outside.
The world looked faint.
Her eyelids were heavy,
sleep poured down, but it didn’t matter.
He was leaving.
The warm warmth.
The hand that wasn’t scary.
The being she first wanted by her side.
‘...Don’t go.’
Her body reacted first.
Her small, thin hand grabbed his clothes.
"Why?"
He asked.
Short and calm.
She gripped harder.
Her tiny fingers dug deeper into the fabric.
"Will you let go?"
No.
She shook her head.
Quietly, but clearly.
"I have to go to the village. You’re hungry, right?"
It didn’t matter.
Losing him was scarier.
But—
the man slowly pried her hand loose.
Carefully, so it wouldn’t hurt.
He turned his back again.
‘No.’
Her body crawled forward first.
Her knees scraped,
her shins rubbed raw.
It hurt.
Yet she crawled.
She didn’t want to let go.
His warmth.
His voice.
His touch.
All of him.
When she grabbed his clothes again, the child let out a sigh of relief.
"I told you to stay here. ...Huh."
The man’s gaze went to her legs.
He saw the bloodied knees and shins.
The man let out a short sigh.
The child’s body flinched and trembled.
‘I’ll get scolded.’
Her aunt always
got angry when the child’s body got hurt.
Even though she was the one who hurt her,
she beat her even harder because of those wounds.
But—
instead of getting angry, he scooped her into his arms.
He took out a handkerchief and wiped the wounds.
Her body trembled.
That warmth was so overwhelming.
"Guess I need to buy some medicine too."
"……."
"I’ll be right back. So wait here."
The child’s hand shrank a little.
After a long hesitation,
she nodded very carefully.
It was the first time the child
had extended trust, deciding to believe someone’s words.
The child waited.
For the man to return.
He seemed like someone who would definitely come back.
The late autumn morning was chilly,
but the child didn’t sit by the fireplace—she took the spot closest to the door.
The floor wasn’t warm, cold,
and wind seeped through the cracks, brushing her toes.
Still, the child didn’t leave that spot.
She stared piercingly at the door he had gone through,
the door that would soon open again, waiting.
Time passed.
The sun rose in the sky,
and the cabin grew brighter.
The rabbit, bored, shook itself free from her arms.
She reached to grab it but lowered her hand.
The child kept staring at the door.
"I’ll be right back. So wait here."
Her body began to shiver,
but she didn’t look away.
‘He said he’d come back.’
‘I’ll wait.’
Then—
something plopped onto the child’s head.
She looked down.
A piece of wood had fallen there.
From the roof.
The child slowly looked up.
One side of the cabin’s roof was slightly tilted.
Her body stiffened.
She recognized it instantly.
The precursor to collapse.
Just like that day when it swallowed her mother.
The child reached out.
She covered the nearby rabbit and flattened herself.
And soon—
a cracking roar like that day sounded.
Her vision shook.
The air rumbled, the ground quaked.
Something poured from the ceiling.
Dust, wood fragments,
and—
toward her tiny body,
the massive debris of the roof came crashing down.
‘Row…!’
The child’s small hands instinctively hugged the rabbit tighter.
"...You okay?"
The voice she’d been waiting for.
The child’s eyes widened.
Her gaze slowly rose.
The roof was fine.
The cracked walls were like new.
The windows were clean, unbroken,
and the floor was spotless, no dust.
And—
"No injuries. Good."
A leisurely, low voice.
The man looked down at the child and smiled faintly.
The child remembered.
"Be most wary of smiling faces."
Her mother’s words, whispered like a spell in her ear.
She’d heard them countless times,
etched them into her mind.
Yet in this moment, the man’s smile wasn’t scary at all.
And yet.
In her subtly stirred heart,
the child acknowledged her mother’s words just a little.