Chapter 920: The Philanthropist
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 920: The Philanthropist
"Sigh, this wretched weather. When is it ever going to stop raining? My shoes feel soggy every single day. It’s driving me crazy."
In the middle of the empty courtyard, a young novice nun was sweeping the ground despite the rain.
The work was mind-numbingly dull, and the constant chill of the drizzle blowing into her sleeves made even this disciplined young woman unable to stop grumbling to her companion.
"I know, right?"
The other young nun nodded in agreement, her face twisted in a grimace. "I feel like something in my room has gone moldy. There’s been this weird smell for the past few days, but I can’t find the source. It’s so annoying."
"Eww... maybe you’re the one going moldy? Gross, are you going to start sprouting mushrooms?"
"Hmph! If I sprout mushrooms, the first thing I’ll do is stuff one in your mouth!"
"I’m not eating your mushrooms! Blehh..."
"You’ll eat them whether you want to or not! Take this!"
The girls began to frolic and chase each other, their bellies full of silver-bell laughter that echoed through the small courtyard, adding a splash of vibrant color to the bleak, rainy day.
"Ahem!"
The laughter was abruptly cut short.
"The Matron!"
The girls shuddered. Realizing an old nun had appeared nearby at some unknown point, they immediately stood together in silence, huddling their necks like a group of startled little quails.
"You still have time to play?"
The Matron glared at them. Though her aged face was etched with deep wrinkles, her authority remained undiminished.
"Is your work finished?"
"It’s... almost done... It’s raining today, so we’re a bit slow..."
"If it’s almost done, then hurry up and finish it! Today is a very important day; it concerns the future development of our welfare institute. 'It’s raining' is not an excuse!"
"Yes, Matron!"
The little nuns scrambled in a panic, rushing back to their posts. Two of the more scatterbrained ones lost their bearings and collided head-on with a dull thud, leaving visible bumps on their foreheads.
Even so, under the Matron’s stern gaze, they didn't dare linger. They could only continue their miserable task of cleaning the courtyard with tears welling in their eyes.
"Honestly..."
The Matron shook her head helplessly.
She had sent a request to the Church for more hands, hoping for some capable help. Instead, the Church had sent over a batch of novice nuns who had barely started their training, claiming it was for their "cultivation."
But what help could these fledglings provide? They weren't even as efficient as the children, and they were just more mouths to feed!
"Work hard. I hope that when I return, I won't see a single fallen leaf. If I do..."
The Matron scanned the group with a majestic air. "Tomorrow, I’ll plant you all in the dirt like mushrooms!"
"Waaah... No... How scary..."
"I don't want that either. I don't want to be a mushroom..."
"Uuu... if I have to be planted in the dirt, I’d rather be a beautiful flower..."
"Me too, me too... I like sunflowers, though they don't really suit rainy days..."
"..."
The courtyard was filled with "wails of woe" as the chattering continued. The Matron rubbed her temples, truly exhausted by the thought of arguing further with these fledglings.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Crossing the courtyard—which had been cleared of standing water and was no longer muddy—she made her way to the front gate.
Several senior nuns were already waiting there.
"Is he here?"
"He is."
"Are we certain he wants to sponsor our welfare institute?"
"Certain."
"And his identity?"
"We’ve looked into his background. He is indeed a famous philanthropist who has sponsored many welfare institutes and orphanages. However, he usually operates within the Empire. It’s unclear why he’s come to the Kingdom this time."
"Could he be an Imperial spy?"
"What would an Imperial spy want with a dump like this? We don't have any important intelligence worth the price of his cold, hard cash."
"True. We are just an ordinary welfare institute."
The Matron nodded. Peering through the gap in the gate, she saw a man in a tailored formal suit leaning against a black carriage in the middle of the street, holding an umbrella.
The man looked young, elegant, and possessed an extraordinary temperament—much like the playboy sons of nobility the Matron had seen in the past.
But looking closer at that deep-featured face, which bore distinct Slavic characteristics, there was none of the flightiness or arrogance typical of a dandy.
Even though he had clearly been waiting for a long time, he remained composed and patient, showing not the slightest hint of displeasure.
"Alright, get ready."
The Matron clapped her hands.
"Since he is here to do a good deed, we must treat him as a guest of the highest caliber. Regardless of whether he ends up sponsoring us, we must at least make him feel our warmth."
"Yes, Matron."
The other nuns acknowledged her and quickly departed to handle their respective tasks.
Left alone, the Matron took another deep breath. A rare smile finally broke across her habitually stern, aged face.
"My apologies, distinguished sir..."
The Matron pushed open the gate and approached the man by the carriage.
"The courtyard was a bit of a mess, and cleaning it took some time. I am truly sorry for keeping you waiting."
"No, it wasn't long at all."
The man—Muen—lightly tipped his hat in greeting.
"Good afternoon, Mother Superior."
"Good afternoon, sir."
The Matron pressed her palms together, returning the greeting with Church etiquette.
"There is no need to call me 'sir.' I don't think I'm quite old enough for such a title yet," Muen said with a smile.
"Then I should..."
"Just call me Bruce. I'm just a wealthy young master with a bit of family property. Bruce."
"Then... Mr. Bruce."
The Matron remained formal and serious. "I shall call you Mr. Bruce, then."
"...Alright. It’s just a name, after all."
Muen sighed inwardly, realizing it would be difficult to correct her. He accepted the honorific from the old nun, who looked old enough to be his grandmother.
"May I go inside and take a look?" Muen glanced up at the weathered sign above.
Sunshine Orphanage.
It was the most common name for an orphanage Muen had ever encountered.
And from the outside, this place looked no different from any other "Sunshine" orphanage—shabby, old, steeped in the scent of time, yet filled with a certain vitality.
"Of course. Please, come in."
The Matron was a beat slow to react, realizing it was indeed inappropriate to leave a distinguished guest standing outside. She quickly turned and led Muen through the gates.
Inside, they were met with a spacious courtyard.
The turf was ragged, and more than half of it had been converted into farmland. Since the harvest had recently passed, only a few withered branches—yet to be burned for fertilizer—remained in the fields.
Despite this, under a crooked tree in the corner, there were a few scattered pieces of play equipment.
Creak. Creak.
A swing beneath the tree swayed in the wind. Muen’s gaze followed its rhythm, appearing to sink into some distant memory as a faint smile touched his lips.
"Mr. Bruce... did you think of something pleasant?"
The Matron glanced at him sideways. She suddenly felt that the gentle smile on this young philanthropist’s face didn't quite match his somewhat cold features.
But she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
"It’s nothing. I just remembered the scene when I went to sponsor the first orphanage of my life—the most important one. It was much like this place. A large yard, and a very small swing." Muen shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh.
"Is that so?"
The Matron sighed with emotion. "To receive your sponsorship and leave such a deep impression on you... that orphanage must have been very destitute. How tragic. But meeting a kind-hearted person like you is also..."
"No, I’m ashamed to say."
Muen scratched his cheek, looking embarrassed.
"Actually, when I went to sponsor that orphanage back then, it wasn't out of the goodness of my heart."
"Oh? Then why was it?"
"It was..." Muen puffed out his chest. "To pick up a girl."
"...Wh-what?"
The Matron was momentarily stunned, thinking she had misheard him.
"To pick up a girl. Or to be more precise, for the woman I loved."
Muen spread his hands. "I must admit, my motives back then weren't pure. I even intruded upon her most vulnerable place without her permission. One could easily call that despicable.
"But I had no choice. Things had already reached that point; how could I let the most important person in my life just walk away? Naturally, I had to do whatever it took to chase after her... so I went, without a second thought."
"Is... is that how it was?" The Matron was dazed. The atmosphere had just been so solemn and charitable; how had it suddenly veered into a playboy’s pursuit of a lady’s heart?
"Are you disappointed in me?"
"No."
The Matron smoothed her silver hair and regained her composure, shaking her head immediately.
"I don't think that’s despicable at all. There are very few truly 'pure' things in this world. Even among those 'great philanthropists' who constantly preach about kindness and righteousness, how many act out of pure altruism? On the contrary, Mr. Bruce, your bluntness makes me feel relieved."
"You aren't afraid I'm an Imperial spy anymore?" Muen asked meaningfully.
"Ahem."
Realizing that her earlier conversation had been overheard, the Matron gave a dry cough and said solemnly:
"I am a nun of the Church, and the Church never involves itself in the disputes between two nations. Therefore, I do not care whether you are from the Empire or the Kingdom."
"You don't care about any Imperial citizens?"
"Except for that damned Muen Campbell!"
The Matron clenched her fist, her voice full of indignation. "That scumbag, that lecher who deceives innocent young girls... he should be chopped into pieces with a cleaver!"
"The Matron is quite a character," Muen’s cheek twitched as he gave a strained smile.
"And isn't Mr. Bruce the same?" The Matron assumed Muen was complimenting her and smiled back.
Past the courtyard, the layout of the back of the institute began to differ significantly from the orphanage in Muen’s memory. The architectural style of the Kingdom was vastly different from the Empire’s. However, like his memory, there were very few decorations here; everything was extremely plain.
Yet, certain details were identical to the building that had been slowly swallowed by flames in his memories.
This is the place...
Muen looked up and saw the magnificent dome of a circular cathedral not far away.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Bruce?"
"It’s nothing. Let’s continue."
Setting those thoughts aside for the moment, Muen followed the Matron, chatting pleasantly as they walked.
Through the Matron’s words, he came to understand every detail of the place, while the Matron became convinced of his sincerity through his speech.
In this peaceful atmosphere, Muen tapped on a nearby wall that already showed several cracks and asked casually:
"By the way, Matron, you mentioned you are a nun of the Church. This welfare institute... it should be supported by the Church, right?"
"Yes."
The Matron saw no reason to hide such a minor detail. "This institute was built with funds from the Church."
"Then it’s strange. Since you have a behemoth like the Church backing you, why..."
Muen recalled everything he had seen on the way in and looked the Matron in the eye.
"Why is this place struggling so much?"