If a Hundred Chops Won't Fell It, Change Your Method

Clove had a worry of late.

"Hwaaam… Good morning, Father."

Diligent Yoanna had started sleeping in, and her daily rhythm was beginning to fall apart.

Clove watched her settle into her chair with a drowsy face, concern written all over his own.

Of course, given her age, it was only natural that she would sleep a lot and grow like a weed…

But what am I supposed to do when it bothers me!

A father couldn't help fretting. If a dad didn't worry about this sort of thing, who would?

He spread jam on a piece of bread, handed it to Yoanna, and asked,

"Anna, aren't you staying up too late these days?"

"Mm-mmph… I've had a lot to read lately."

Even half-asleep, she stuffed her mouth full of bread as she answered.

She said it as if it were nothing, but for Clove—who had built a wall between himself and books—it was quite a shock.

What on earth was she reading that kept her up at night?

Just then Messela set a warm stew on the table and asked,

"What are you interrogating the child about first thing in the morning?"

"Honey, have you bought Yoanna any books recently?"

"Books? I did pick up a few educational ones for her."

"Hmm…"

Educational books? There was no way she was losing sleep over those.

Still, grilling a little girl wasn't a good idea either. At an age when feelings ran high, one wrong move and he might hear something like "I hate you, Dad!"

And if he ever heard that, even Clove's steel heart would shatter for certain.

Then Yoanna, her brain finally woken by the sweetness, spoke to Messela.

"Mother, I'd like to go to church with you today."

"Really? That's wonderful~ The ladies have been saying they want to greet you."

Clove froze.

The unexpected remark caught him completely off guard.

Church was the liveliest place for social exchange in the city. Naturally there were plenty of children Yoanna's age, and boys and girls mixed freely when they played.

If it isn't books, what has her so absorbed that she's losing sleep?

In that instant a single image flashed through Clove's mind.

Love letters.

Yes—how many mongrels must be after the prettiest girl in the city!

Some shameless brat had surely sent his pure daughter a letter stuffed with sweet talk.

Clove pictured some faceless boy marrying Yoanna, and—

"Oh my! Darling, you're going to snap that fork!"

"Hahaha. Sorry. Something unpleasant just crossed my mind."

His hand had clenched of its own accord and half-crushed the fork.

He straightened it with sheer strength, then asked Yoanna with a rigid face,

"Anna? How about Daddy comes along today too?"

"With Father…"

Chewing a sausage from the stew, Yoanna sank into thought.

When she finished thinking, a shy flush rose to her cheeks.

"N-no, thank you."

Her girlish reaction made Clove's heart plummet.

He was certain now.

Some unprincipled little punk was definitely after Yoanna.

Absolutely unforgivable!

Daring to set his sights on another family's precious daughter without even the head of the household's permission!

But he couldn't force himself along when his daughter said no.

That didn't mean he was out of options.

My old master is visiting the church today. If I ask Messela to send her to that church…

He could simply entrust his daughter to someone who would stand in for him.

A father's heart for his daughter was this fierce—no, this devoted.

The reason Yoanna felt embarrassed was nothing grand.

Even so, I can't let him see me wandering around alone…

She had always shown Clove only her best side. How could she let him see her roaming the church grounds without a single friend?

More than anything…

I can't disappoint Father.

Yoanna was more grateful to Clove than she had ever been to her real father. Her memories of her birth parents were faint; she had seen their ugliness from too young an age for any real affection to remain. So it was only natural that Clove felt more like a true father to her.

Knock knock!

Messela tapped on the door.

"Yoanna, are you ready?"

"Just a moment, please."

Snapping out of her thoughts, Yoanna checked herself in the mirror and straightened her posture.

No more failures. Today she would succeed in making at least one friend!

Outfit that isn't too flashy yet not too plain—check!

It was the look Messela had refined a hundred times. Yoanna had absorbed it perfectly with her own skill and gathered her supplies.

Homemade candy, mixed by her own hands with sugar and fruit juice.

Heartfelt gifts for the children—check!

Truthfully, no one had asked for that much effort. What girl in the world made candy herself just to hand out to kids?

That girl was Yoanna.

She was still a child who didn't know how to calculate "moderation," after all…

With bribes—no, gifts—securely packed, she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

Candy and appearance, sword and shield all ready, Yoanna slapped her cheeks with a determined face.

I can do this! This time will be different!

Her gaze flicked to the book on the desk.

The volume she had compiled herself while reading the scroll Dantalion had given her.

She drew another breath and turned to the first page.

Without confidence, every possibility remained nothing more than idle daydream.

Eyes closed, she chewed over the words, then boldly opened the door.

"Hic?!"

Messela, who had been pacing outside, jumped and stared at her.

Yoanna spoke like a hero marching to the battlefield.

"Shall we go."

Passion for victory blazed hot in her eyes.

Upon arriving at the church, Yoanna first offered a prayer.

"Today is the prayer day of Vesta, Mistress of the Warm Hearth. Let us all pray together for Her!"

O Dantalion, who guards the good and punishes the wicked. Watch over the righteous this day as well—

Of course, the one she prayed to was Dantalion.

Why would she pray to beings who had never saved her when she needed it most?

But not everyone possessed the talent to read a person's true heart.

"My, Messela's daughter is so devout."

"Oh my, if only my own daughter had even a quarter of that faith."

The surrounding ladies marveled at Yoanna's piety.

What kind of education did she receive at home to possess such deep faith?

"Do you have some special method?"

"Ahahaha…"

Messela laughed awkwardly and dodged the question.

She could hardly confess who Yoanna actually believed in.

When the lengthy prayer ended, the ladies' eyes lit up as they looked for Yoanna.

A first-rate marriage prospect who rarely visited—wouldn't it be wise to put a face to the name and earn a little goodwill?

But…

"Oh my, where has Miss Yoanna gone?"

"She was right here a moment ago…"

The instant the prayer finished, Yoanna vanished like the wind.

The battlefield she wanted was not the ladies' social circle but the orphanage where she had tasted failure so many times.

Well…

"Nothing for it. We'll save the introductions for next time. Now, Messela, about my son—"

"Excuse me! Throwing such a sudden question like that must make the lady uncomfortable."

"Oh dear, I'm sorry. My boy is exactly Yoanna's age, so I couldn't help myself. Your son is a bit older, so it must be awkward, right?"

"What did you just say?!"

And so Messela was in for a rough time.

Yoanna offered a tearful silent tribute to her mother's sacrifice and headed for the orphanage.

An elderly priest sweeping the orphanage yard spotted her and smiled.

"Miss Yoanna, it's been a while."

"It's been a while for you as well, Father Helia."

When Yoanna greeted him politely, the priest's smile deepened.

Naturally—watching a child with a kind heart like her mother's made an old man's face bloom with laughter.

Helia guided her toward the rear courtyard and asked,

"Is Lady Messela busy today?"

"Yes. The ladies seem very fond of Mother."

Helia knew that wasn't quite the truth.

It wasn't that the noble ladies disliked Messela; rather, all sorts of talk about Yoanna had been circulating lately.

If he himself had a grandson, he would want to marry the boy off to her on the spot—so of course everyone else felt the same.

Fresh curiosity prompted him to ask,

"Miss Yoanna, is there a boy you like?"

"Someone I like…?"

Ah, that look says 'absolutely none.'

Her vacant gaze answered for her.

The two continued chatting as they walked into the rear courtyard. Orphanage children were running about and playing.

The moment they spotted her, the children swarmed over without being called.

"Oh, it's Sister Yoanna!"

"Candy! Give me candy!!"

"Is Sister Messela not coming??"

They weren't close enough to be called friends, but the orphanage kids rather liked Yoanna.

The problem came after the candy and snacks had been handed out.

"Thank you!"

"We'll eat well!"

"Hey, don't stick so close—you're making Sister uncomfortable!"

Because of the stiff first impression she had left, the children still found it hard to strike up a real conversation with her.

Like a tide they rushed in, pocketed their candy, and ebbed away again.

Helia watched with a pained expression.

Such a good child…

Left alone, Yoanna glanced around.

Then she spotted a child in the corner and headed that way.

Hidden behind a tree, Helia sighed soundlessly.

That one is far too timid!

Father Helia was the most approachable person at the orphanage. His advanced years made it easier for the children to come to him.

But the child Yoanna had chosen was one on whom such things never worked—the one among all the orphans who simply would not open her heart…

"Waaaaaah!"

"???"

Suddenly the child burst into tears and threw her arms around Yoanna.

Helia blinked in shock. Once the tears stopped, the child began pouring words out to Yoanna.

A child who for three years had never once opened her heart to another person…

How in the world…???

Father Helia crossed himself without thinking, as if he had witnessed a miracle.

Some time later, in the afternoon.

At the busy lunch hour a man visited the church.

His shaggy hair and lounging posture seemed to speak for his character.

A priest who spotted him stared in dismay. From clothes to face, the man did not look like a good person. The eyepatch over one eye only made his already rough impression more villainous.

Still, a priest ought not to judge by appearances.

The priest approached carefully.

"Brother, what brings you here?"

"Ah, I'm not some weirdo, so just ignore me and get back to work."

The man answered offhandedly and rummaged inside his coat.

That brazen attitude made the priest ready to speak more firmly—until

Clink.

"That is…!"

"Yohanes, instructor of the Imperial Academy. I've got a little business, so let's keep this quiet."

The man—Yohanes—flashed the three-headed dragon medal that symbolized the Imperial Academy.

An instructor of the Imperial Academy, not just any academy, was treated as an honorary noble of the empire. The mithril three-headed dragon medal was the proof.

Startled, the priest bowed and withdrew.

"Tch. I was going to offer a prayer while I was here, but things are getting annoying."

Yohanes clicked his tongue and stuck a cigarette between his lips.

Despite his manners, he was a knight of considerable faith—faithful enough to visit churches even when traveling.

He simply preferred to come in the evening after everyone else had left…

That damn disciple dumps a kid on his master the first time they meet in ages?

Thinking of his hopeless disciple Clove, Yohanes chewed the cigarette.

If it hadn't been a student he cared about, he would have smashed him with the scabbard.

After finishing the cigarette he headed toward the orphanage.

Bad personality or not, he never did anything halfway. As he walked through the garden he recalled the child's description.

He said his daughter was a shy little shut-in, right?

Yoanna might want to hide it, but family secrets never stayed secret for long. Sleeping on the same pillow as Messela, who knew everything, how could Clove not know?

How does a kid over thirteen not have a single friend?

Of course Clove had never called his daughter a shut-in. But Yohanes, who always compressed thoughts into the simplest terms, had decided Yoanna was a shut-in.

Even a bastard like himself had friends—so what did a thirteen-year-old have to do to end up with zero?

And she was supposed to be pretty, too.

"Who might you be?"

Father Helia, coming from the opposite direction, ran into Yohanes.

Yohanes flashed the three-headed dragon medal again.

"Academy instructor. My damn disciple begged me to keep an eye on his daughter for a bit, so I dropped by."

"Oh my, what fine work you do. But why the orphanage if it's about a daughter…?"

"According to the disciple she volunteers here often. Do you know a girl named Yoanna?"

Helia flinched for a second, then smiled.

"I do. A truly wonderful child. She's playing with the children even now."

"Is that so? Strange… I was told she was a shut— I mean, a shy child."

"Well… ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I don't think that will be true starting today."

"What do you mean by that?"

Helia answered with a smile.

Without another word she headed toward the church, and Yohanes scratched his head and toyed with another cigarette.

So the request to check whether any boys were hanging around his daughter hadn't been baseless after all?

I hate this kind of thing.

Yohanes had no desire to meddle in children's love lives.

Still, it was a disciple's request, so he intended to do at least the bare minimum…

"What the hell is that?"

At the fountain in the center of the orphanage grounds, a pretty girl was spinning a story for more than twenty children.

It was astonishing. At an age when they should have been noisy, what kind of tale held them so rapt?

No—that's not the important part right now.

Yohanes scanned the surroundings.

If his disciple's description was accurate, there ought to be at least one shut-in type somewhere…

He scrubbed his eyes and looked again. No such child existed.

Naturally his gaze returned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the girl at the fountain—the only one who matched the age Clove had given.

Yet aside from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠age, not a single detail of the disciple's description fit.

Well, she is pretty, I'll give him that.

Except for "pretty," nothing matched.

Was that chatterbox really Clove's daughter?

Yohanes quietly approached Yoanna.