Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Beggar Gritz - The Eccentric
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"Today, I am free."
The girl with striking gray hair, Grace, declared this with an exceedingly strict, solemn, and serious demeanor.
In response to Grace's words, the butler of the Carnelian family bowed his head politely.
"As you say, Oracle."
His calm tone and expression, along with his elegant yet restrained movements.
It was a display of the dignity and prestige befitting the grand lord and landowner—the true ruler of these lands—but Grace wasn't so easily swayed.
"No attendants trailing me, no piling on extra people under the pretense of needing service, and no sneaky escorts following from behind."
"Of course not."
"This is the reward the family head promised me. So, absolutely, absolutely do not infringe on my day off. Got it?"
"Understood. Nothing like what you're worried about will happen."
Despite her persistent checking, which could easily annoy anyone, the butler affirmed it without a hint of impatience or irritation.
Grace stared intently at him for a moment before flashing a bright smile and turning away.
"Then, I'm off! Wow! Freedom!"
A refreshingly bright smile lit up her face, as if she might break into a tune any second.
The Cardian mansion was built quite a distance from the city.
The reasoning was that a ruler's residence too close to the bustling populace would diminish their majesty.
It was a bit far to travel without a horse or carriage, but Grace didn't mind.
Just a year ago, she had roamed rugged mountain paths without a care, gathering herbs and fruits.
Though her body had softened a touch from unwilling mansion life, a simple walk like this was hardly an obstacle.
Her appearance was the epitome of grace and poise, yet her pace was as swift as a brisk jog for dozens of minutes.
As she entered the city brimming with energy and clamor, some passersby turned their gazes toward Grace.
Their reactions varied in detail but followed the same pattern overall.
First, friendly, curious, or leering looks at her face.
Then, upon noting her attire, they'd tilt their heads, their expressions souring as they quickly looked away.
As if they'd glimpsed something they shouldn't have, or wanted to avoid any entanglement.
"...Hmm, bakery first!"
Like an actress on a theater stage, she muttered cheerfully and rhythmically to herself before navigating the city with familiarity.
"Welcome! Freshly baked bread right now! Best eaten before it cools!"
A plump, kindly woman called out relentlessly.
Dozens of loaves lined her stall's counter, their aroma wafting savory and inviting.
If a traveler from another city saw this, they'd be astonished.
Luxurious breads fit for noble tables sold casually on the street.
Yet the locals bought them nonchalantly, as if commonplace. At last, it was Grace's turn.
"Come on in, what bread are you... Oh."
The baker's face stiffened in bewilderment at the sight of Grace.
Startled by her own reaction, she hastily composed herself and bowed.
"W-Welcome, Oracle."
"Aw, none of that Oracle stuff. Just call me Grace like old times."
Grace said it casually, as if oblivious to the baker's response, her innocence shining through.
The baker hesitated briefly but regained her composure watching Grace hum and browse the loaves.
"Alright, Grace. Having trouble picking? Want a recommendation?"
"About ten at random, please! I'll pick the other ten."
"I know you've always had a healthy appetite, but pig out like that and you'll roll right down the hill."
"It's not just for me! For the kids at the orphanage. So pick the good stuff?"
"Do they even appreciate the taste? They'll just scarf it down anyway."
"Ah! Truth hurts—no hitting!"
A warm, lively atmosphere flowed between Grace and the baker.
Watching the boisterous exchange, those who had tensed up at Grace's presence relaxed their stares.
Clutching a large basket brimming with bread, Grace headed west through the city.
She arrived at the border between city and forest, where two buildings stood side by side, starkly different.
One was dilapidated, on the verge of collapse; the other under construction but using materials and craftsmanship rivaling central mansions.
A smile played on Grace's lips at the new building, though a faint wistfulness lingered in her eyes.
"Huh? Ray sis!"
"Yay! Big sis!"
High-pitched childlike voices and pattering footsteps approached.
Sensing them, Grace plastered on a playful expression to greet her orphanage siblings.
"Everyone doing well? Listening to the matron?"
"Sis, what's that? Bread?"
"For us, right? Right?"
Ignoring the questions with a wry smile at their self-centered chatter, Grace replied.
"Bread it is. But only for the good listeners."
"We listened!"
"We're good!"
"Yes, yes, good kids. But no eating yet or you'll get in trouble—inside first."
"Okay!"
The children dashed like arrows, lest the bread vanish if they dawdled.
As Grace entered the rundown building, word spread instantly; kids from everywhere gathered in a flash.
The dozen or so orphans reacted differently by age: younger ones beamed purely with joy at Grace, while the older ones wore complex expressions.
To the eldest-looking girl, Grace teased.
"Giselle, gonna let your sis's arm fall off? No help?"
"...Hand it over."
Giselle took the basket from Grace and placed it high on a shelf out of reach.
"When everyone's back from work, we eat together. Wait."
Some grumbled at the unilateral decree, but Giselle's sharp glare silenced them all.
Siblings just a few years older could be scarier than adults.
Giselle signaled her peers with her eyes; they herded the young ones away, leaving just her and Grace.
Impressed by the disciplined control, Grace whistled.
"Giselle, lucky you're my little sis. If you were older, I'd suffocate."
"Lucky for me too. Covering for your antics would've given me headaches."
"Harsh words! Sniff sniff."
Giselle eyed Grace's mock tears bittersweetly before speaking.
"Why buy all that? Spend on yourself if you have the coin."
"We eat plenty without it—don't worry. See? Better figure, smoother skin. I check the mirror and think, who’s this beauty?!"
"We eat well now too. Good clothes. House is old, but we'll move once construction's done."
"Ignoring the beauty comment? Rude if you don't acknowledge it."
"......"
Grace kept joking to lighten the mood, but Giselle's face stayed tense.
Wagging her finger, Grace clucked her tongue.
"Ears too soft—that's your problem. City rumors are nonsense. If sacrifice talk was real, could I stroll here alone? I'd be swarmed with watchers."
"Half a year ago, you were."
"Ancient history."
"...Really?"
"Yeah, pure jealousy. They can't have this spot, so they spread lies. Don't let it get to you. Tell the others."
Under Grace's persistent reassurance, Giselle's skeptical look softened into tentative belief.
This might fool her, Grace thought with inner relief.
For about three seconds.
Bang!
The door flew open with a racket as someone strode in purposefully.
A elderly woman with streaked gray hair appeared.
The orphanage matron—mother figure to Grace—stared piercingly before embracing her fiercely, without a word.
Sobs followed immediately.
Too grief-stricken and guilt-laden for mere reunion joy, it eroded Giselle's brief persuasion; her face soured to I knew it.
The matron's charge had flung every door wide, letting curious kids peek—and now they sniffled too.
"Sniff, hic."
"Waaah."
Sorrow spread like a virulent plague.
Those in the know reddened eyes silently; the clueless wept swept up in the tide.
In the orphanage turned sea of tears, Grace alone sighed.
Life was no easy thing.
"Haaaaah."
As sunset approached.
Wandering the streets, Grace unwittingly let out a deep sigh.
She rarely lost her vibrant cheer, but even she couldn't suppress grumbling after her rare outing devolved from joyful memories to collective wailing.
No wonder she'd fled the orphanage like it burned.
"...Where to."
Grace pondered.
Plans to linger till closing were scrapped.
Killing time elsewhere was tricky in this unapproved outfit—no changing allowed. Yet heading back to the Carnelian mansion prematurely irked her too.
Stuck, she wandered aimlessly to secluded spots.
Suddenly, something odd caught her eye.
An oak barrel?
Large wooden casks made from oak.
Not rare or strange in themselves.
Even without a brewery, decent households kept one or two in storage.
But outdoors, rolling solo on the ground? Suspicious as hell.
Staring curiously, it halted with a jolt.
Hit a hill.
City alleys weren't flat or tidy.
Slopes, steps, trash everywhere.
Barrels weren't built to roll freely anyway.
Maybe an animal inside rolling it—should pop out now.
Thus expecting, Grace watched as something indeed emerged.
Not a cat or dog, but a human arm and wooden staff.
"...Huh?"
Ignoring her shock, the mysterious figure tapped walls and ground to probe surroundings, then jammed the staff to hoist the barrel skyward.
A spindly staff as a leg, launching the hefty oak barrel airborne—a bizarre sight.
Frozen with mouth agape, Grace watched it vault the hill nimbly and resume rolling.
"W-Wait!"
Snapping to as it vanished from view, she chased after.
Without uncovering that freakish thing's identity, she'd toss and turn all night.