The Rumored Monster
The moment I brought the prince inside the orphanage, I set straight to cooking with our meager ingredients, turning to him for an opinion.
"So, what do you think would be good?"
"I do not care either way. ...Yo."
"Then how about Fido?"
"Have you lost your mind-yo?"
Listening to the prince insult me in such awkwardly forced honorifics, there was no mistaking the royal blue blood coursing through his veins. Truly, a born king among nobles. He had his guard completely up over something as trivial as picking an alias for his daily life.
Well, choosing your username is serious business.
A boy of his station would hardly be satisfied with just chopping his real name down to two lazy syllables.
"Barnaby."
"Sounds like a girl's name-yo."
"Buster."
"I shall simply name myself."
Look at him. Somewhere along the way, he had already mastered that casual-polite cadence tailored to steal women's hearts. His gaze, however, looked remarkably like that of an office worker slogging through his third straight night of overtime. Such unnatural maturity in a child felt utterly jarring.
"Fine, go right ahead. Let's see just how royal your naming sense really is. I'll be the judge."
How cute could a ten-year-old's idea of a name possibly be? That naive complacency earned me a bitter taste of defeat.
"Nephelius Ulyssian Effenberg Eunice the Third."
"Why are kids these days so precocious?"
With an imagination running that wild, the poor ten-year-old's head was already host to a full-blown middle-schooler's dark flame dragon. This imperial prince was far more attuned to modern youth sensibilities than my prejudices had allowed.
"Still, Ulyssian isn't half bad..."
Though it did remind me a bit too much of a Dalmatian, so a slight touch-up was in order.
"Ulyssian... Julian... Hmm, how about Yurian?"
The boy pondered my suggestion with grave seriousness before giving a decisive nod.
"A compromise is acceptable. ...Yo."
"Right. Starting today, your name is Yurian."
"Mm. Yurian it is."
And so, His Imperial Highness's first character-creation event reached a successful conclusion. No refunds, no take-backs. He wouldn't get another Name Change Ticket until the original story officially kicked off.
"And what should I call you, sir?"
"My name is Harte... but just calling me 'Director' will do."
"Understood, Director. Now, hand over the meal. ...Please-yo."
The male lead of this world possessed an extraordinarily exasperating way with words. If I had been one of those run-of-the-mill abusive orphanage directors from a romance fantasy novel, I would have given his backside a thorough thrashing on the spot.
Fortunately, having ditched the holy knights specifically to snap my own death flags, I had patience in spades.
"Yo, yo, yo! Just tacking 'yo' onto the end of every sentence doesn't make you well-mannered, you cheeky brat!"
"Those are deeply insulting words-yo."
Man, this isn't going to be easy...
My authority as director had already plummeted straight into the dirt. An imperial prince's divine right versus an orphanage director's administrative rule—a standoff worthy of the eve of Canossa had descended upon our cramped little building.
"..."
"..."
What choice did I have? As the one living on a count's patronage, I had to be the bigger person. I wasn't the kind of wretched adult who would grind his teeth just to score a petty win over a ten-year-old boy.
I ladled a generous portion of bubbling meat stew into a bowl and set it before him. True to his haughty imperial breeding, Yurian dipped his spoon right in without a single word of thanks.
Even so, my hopes were high. Much like the classic trope of an ultra-rich heir suffering cultural shock upon tasting instant ramen for the first time, I expected Yurian to take one bite, widen his eyes in disbelief, and awaken to a whole new world.
Why was I so confident? Because this was an authentic K-meat stew—the miraculous modern delicacy known as pork kimchi jjigae.
"Ah, I really didn't want to unveil this in a place like this, but..."
Take a good, hard look at this presentation with your own two eyes, kid. And tell the world about the seasoned prowess of a bachelor who lived alone for years!
"Wait, this flavor...?"
Yurian froze like a stone statue.
Slowly setting his spoon down, he opened his mouth.
"Director. This broth is far too salty."
"Are you kidding me...?"
It was the nitpicking of a nagging mother-in-law, delivered with horrifying precision.
"The vegetables are so spicy that even if thrown into ice water, they would bring it to a boil. ...Yo."
If they could do that, I would have built a steam turbine and become a millionaire by now.
"The foundation of cooking lies in adhering strictly to the recipe."
"I have far too much experience to take cooking advice from the likes of you!"
"Haaah. Adults who lack self-awareness are truly exhausting."
Yurian shook his head in profound disappointment, meticulously picking out only the pieces of pork to pop into his mouth. Seeing such aristocratic pickiness in action made my head spin. It felt as though my entire life's pride as a home cook had been wiped out in a single stroke.
My head aches already... Did I take this too lightly? If I take in all three kids, will I even survive?
If I had to sum up my impressions of meeting Yurian in a single phrase, it would be: this isn't going to be easy.
The next morning broke clear and bright. I brought Yurian out with me to stroll through a quiet corner of the city.
Surprisingly, he followed along without any fuss. Not that he had much choice, since I couldn't leave him alone, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy walking through town. He had never admitted it out loud, of course, but the wide, round wonder in his eyes as he took in the unfamiliar scenery couldn't lie.
Just as we crossed to the opposite side of the street, a young girl diligently selling flowers brightened up and shouted toward us.
"Ah! It's the crazy mister!"
"Not mister. Big brother."
"People who insult my mom don't get to be called big brother."
Hearing that exchange, Yurian's expression turned thoroughly sour.
"The Director's morals and character are deceitful beyond measure-yo."
"They are not!"
Meanwhile, the flower girl looked intrigued by Yurian's peculiar cadence.
"Hey, why does he talk so weird?"
"Because he doesn't have a mother."
The mother who would have shielded him—the Second Empress Consort—had already passed away. That was why, on this remote street, he was forced to speak to me with such clumsy honorifics. But the girl in front of us evidently interpreted my words in the worst possible way, shooting me a look of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Mister, you're actual human garbage. What do you even do for a living?"
"I'm an orphanage director."
"Heavens! An orphanage director making 'yo mama' jokes?! That's unbelievable! I'm filing a civil complaint against you!"
"Whoa, whoa, please don't do that! Cease and desist, I beg of you!"
If a complaint somehow reached the imperial palace and blew Yurian's cover, we would be in catastrophic trouble. More to the point, how on earth did the concept of a 'yo mama joke' even exist in a romance fantasy world? It was a shocking realization, delivered in the absolute worst manner possible.
"Hey, little guy, what's your name?"
"Yurian."
"Right, Yurian. I'm Floty. Listen, if that mister ever mistreats you, come tell me right away, okay? I'll protect you at my house."
"I shall take that into consideration."
"I'm not just saying it, so you have to promise! Here, a gift to seal the deal!"
Floty twisted and wove the delicate stems of small, pale blossoms from her basket, deftly fashioning a charming little flower ring. Caught completely off guard, Yurian held out his hand and ended up with the pure white ring slid onto his left ring finger.
Watching the precious display, I couldn't resist heckling.
"Booo. You're gonna get a poison ivy rash."
"Hey! The flowers I sell are completely clean!"
"Sure, but the person selling them has a filthy heart."
"You're way too old to be talking like a brat! Don't you think so, Yurian?"
"Indeed. With the unyielding march of time, the Director's teeth have decayed, which accounts for his grotesque manner of speech. Pay him no mind."
"...Ah, so Yurian was just a weird kid to begin with."
Faced at last with the grim reality, Floty looked dazed. As I smirked triumphantly at her, she pouted and protested anyway.
"Hmph! Well, it still doesn't change the fact that you're a bad person, mister."
"In that case, allow me to live up to my wicked reputation and throw some money around."
I pulled several silver coins from my pocket and held them out to her.
"I'll buy every single flower in that basket."
"Mister... are you secretly a good person?"
"You're only realizing that now?"
"They say you have to get to know people step by step!"
Truly, there was nothing money couldn't buy. Having successfully brokered a momentous deal by purchasing some moral goodwill, I slipped in my true objective.
"You're free for the rest of the day, right?"
"Yep."
"Then come walk around with us for a bit. Show us some fun sights. In return, I'll buy you something delicious."
"Really?!"
"Only if you call me big brother instead of mister."
"Got it, handsome big brother!"
Snap!
At that exact moment, Yurian whipped his head away as though he had just witnessed something utterly repulsive. What was his problem now? Honestly, the atmosphere between the two of us had been so stiff that I purposely brought Floty along so he'd have someone his own age to talk to. Kids these days hit puberty way too early.
Still, at least the conversation between the two of them flowed smoothly.
"Yurian, where do you live?"
"At the orphanage at the end of Street 4."
"Huh? Was there an orphanage over there? Come to think of it, mister... I mean, big brother, you said you were the director, right?"
"A rookie director, yeah. It was established recently, and Yurian here is the only child under my care."
"Aha! Then I can drop by to play whenever I want, right?"
"As long as Yurian gives permission."
The instant the words left my lips, Yurian nodded his head vigorously. With a speed that felt downright uncanny...
"Thanks, Yurian!"
Floty beamed brightly before adding in a lower tone, "Still, it's a relief you're over on Street 4. You know the mountain trail at the end of Street 7, right? Strange rumors have been going around about that place lately."
"Rumors? What kind of rumors?"
I had never paid much attention to street gossip, so I was completely in the dark. Seeing how clueless I looked, Floty lowered her voice to a grave whisper.
"They say... a vampire has appeared out there. Some small creature was seen draining the blood of wild beasts, drenched in gore from head to toe so nobody could even make out what it looked like!"
"Ah..."
Now that... sounded remarkably familiar.
After a moment of deliberate contemplation, I turned toward Yurian.
"Yurian."
"Yes."
"How would you feel about adding one more person to the orphanage?"
"What a bizarre question. The entire raison d'être of an orphanage is to do precisely that-is."
"So you're fine with it."
I had asked the question, but whether it would truly be fine was another matter entirely. Because in all likelihood, the identity of that rumored vampire was none other than this world's one and only female lead.