“My hands aren’t dirty. So—where do you live?”
The boy said nothing for a long time.
Since I had already decided to be kind, I waited.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke in a small voice.
“Over there. My house.”
I followed the direction of his trembling hand.
At the very end of the shopping street stood a two-story building, so shoddily renovated it looked ready to collapse at any moment.
A weathered sign hung over the gate:
Elpis Orphanage.
An orphanage child…?
In this era, orphanages were either one of two extremes.
Either the director was a wretched leech who abused children for subsidies, or they were a rare, saintly soul who took care of the little ones with genuine kindness.
So… was he bullied badly enough to be wandering around in the rain?
My lips tightened.
Even if I only have ten years left to live—
I am not the kind of trash who can turn a blind eye to child abuse.
“I’ll take you back. Let’s go home.”
The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he simply clutched my hand tighter.
His grip was warm.
Warm…
It struck me suddenly.
Since my family died, this was the first time in years I’d felt the warmth of another human being.
Inside the orphanage, a woman in her forties, with neatly kept brown hair and a bustling energy about her, hurried out the moment we stepped through the door.
“Oh my goodness, baby!”
“……”
“You went out again? What am I going to do with you? Are you hurt anywhere?”
The boy shrank behind my back, peeking out cautiously.
“I found him in front of a store,” I explained flatly. “He said this was his home, so I brought him here.”
The director fussed endlessly, showering me with thanks.
Meanwhile, I let my eyes roam across the orphanage.
A few brittle logs popped and hissed inside the old fireplace, but it still felt chilly in the hall.
The place is dirt-poor…
I watched as one exhausted-looking employee led the boy toward the bathhouse.
Only one staff member? Severely understaffed.
While I was silently evaluating the situation, the director ushered me into her office and placed a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of me.
She talked. A lot.
The boy was around ten years old, she explained. For some strange reason, he wandered out into the rain every time it fell, and they often had to search for him.
“I see.”
I cut her off, deciding there was no need to hear more.
Stories created ties. Ties created attachment.
And attachment meant regret when death came.
I already decided—I’ll die without regrets.
The important thing was that the child wasn’t being abused. That much was enough.
“But I was shocked,” the woman went on, “seeing him holding your hand. That boy never lets anyone touch him…”
Her words buzzed in my ears. Without thinking, I blurted out—
“I don’t want to hear more. I’m just thinking of sponsoring.”
The director blinked, startled.
Of course, it must have sounded strange. I was robed, my face hidden, even my voice distorted with magic.
Still, I pressed on.
“I’ll pay. You feed him, clothe him, and raise him well until he can stand on his own. That’s all I want. It isn’t dirty money—I can provide documents if needed.”
The woman hesitated, then said softly, “You must have… circumstances.”
“……”
“You see everything when raising children. But I won’t ask.”
I stayed silent. She went on, more cautiously now.
“If you really can help… we’ll be grateful. The orphanage needs every coin we can get.”
I nodded.
“But don’t place too much faith in strangers. I’ll send a proper auditor in my place, someone who can keep accounts. That way, we’ll never need to see each other again.”
Just like that, I severed any possibility of future entanglement.
When I stepped back outside, the rain had stopped. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, warm against my skin.
At the crossroads, I spotted him—the boy in the yellow raincoat, newly dressed and looking freshly scrubbed.
“Take care. Don’t go wandering in the rain again,” I told him.
I didn’t expect an answer. But to my surprise—
“…If I do well… will you come again?”
I froze, then shook my head.
“No. I won’t come. Just live well on your own.”
The boy fell silent. I turned my back and began walking away, my steps lighter than they had been in years.
Strange… but I feel better somehow.
I hadn’t changed the world, but I had done a small good deed. And suddenly, that was enough.
A goal for this short life began to form inside me.
Yes. From now on, I’ll do good things.
I’ll live in a way that makes others smile.
I’ll draw a bright trajectory across these ten borrowed years.
And when the time comes, I’ll die beautifully.
A memory of my mother surfaced—her warm smile, her gentle hands sharing bread with the hungry.
“Siena, my daughter. Helping others will make you happy.”
“I don’t understand. Why should helping others make me happy?”
Now… I finally understood.
“This really is fun,” I whispered, smiling for the first time in a long time.
The next day, at Elpis Orphanage.
Director Jenny nearly fainted.
When that mysterious girl in the gray robe had offered sponsorship, Jenny thought it would amount to a modest donation.
But what arrived was—
“A-a mountain of gifts?!”
Boxes of supplies, fine food, warm clothing, even caretakers to help run the orphanage. A white bird messenger delivered money and letters, and the rundown building suddenly felt alive again.
“At this rate… we might even rebuild the old place!”
Jenny’s eyes brimmed with tears as she watched the children squeal with delight.
“Teacher, look! Pajamas! They fit perfectly!”
Jenny laughed, her chest swelling.
For the girl in the robe, it might have been nothing but a passing whim.
But for these children, it was a miracle.
“Now, aren’t you curious who your sponsor is?” she asked the children.
“Yes!”
“Someone who sends this many gifts… could it be His Majesty the Emperor?”
“Wow!”
The room filled with excitement—until one quiet voice broke through.
“…Good…”
Everyone turned to stare.
The boy in the yellow raincoat.
The one who never spoke unless forced, the one who never let anyone touch him. His face flushed red, but he whispered, firm enough to be heard—
“He’s… a good person.”
Jenny’s heart softened. She smiled warmly.
“Yes. A very good person. I wonder what kind of person they are.”
“But… when will they come again?”
Jenny blinked at the unexpected question, then chuckled.
“Well… maybe when you finish your soup?”
The boy stared at the steaming bowl in front of him.
“….”
“Go on. Eat plenty. That soup was a gift from your sponsor.”
“But… it wasn’t given just to me…”
Jenny laughed softly at the boy’s words, so full of quiet longing.
“But you’re the one who brought them here, aren’t you? I think… they’ll care most about you.”
The boy’s small shoulders stiffened. He nodded, then scooped up a spoonful of soup and stuffed it into his mouth—determined, almost solemn.
“Shall we send a thank-you letter, then? You can write to your sponsor through the bird.”
Jenny looked at the elegant white bird perched nearby.
The boy nodded again, his expression unusually grave, as though he had just made a very important decision.
