Episode 3
“What did you say? What did you just say?
Do you even know who I am—”
“You do, right? You’re the one sponsored by the Count of Charlotte.”
Anisha answered in a calm, flat voice, then folded her eyes into a crescent and gave a smile so soft it could melt. Nobles care a lot about appearances and prestige. One way they show off their noblesse oblige is by sponsoring kids. If your sponsored kid does well, it makes you look good — simple as that.
At the orphanage, kids with noble sponsors got private rooms, good meals, fancy clothes, nicer lessons and equipment. That kind of favoritism only made other kids resentful and competitive, so the sponsored kids tended to act uppity.
“Yeah, I’m not some dumb kid who wasn’t chosen—”
“Careful. That household will pretend you didn’t do anything wrong even if you kill somebody. I’d recommend cutting ties fast.”
Anisha brushed past the boy, interrupting him with a light jab. The boy — bright enough but still immature — grabbed her shoulder roughly.
“What do you mean? You gonna apologize right now? You want a good beating so you’ll apologize?”
“Go on, try.”
“What?”
“If you hit me, I’ll tell the paper. ‘A sponsored child at Shangri-La orphanage beat a ten-year-old girl senseless.’ That’s a good headline, right?”
“Report? Who’s gonna believe some kid like you? How dare you threaten me—!”
“You really think I can’t? Cause a scandal, and the sponsors will pull out. When nobles are involved, the press will swarm. Teachers won’t ignore it either.”
The boy froze. The light in his eyes drained away, and his expression fell flat, like someone had drained the color from a painting.
“You low-class nobody who wasn’t chosen!” he spat, then he lost his temper and raised his hand to hit.
‘I don’t want to get hurt.’
The orphanage teaches a lot of stuff — for boys, it even includes sword and physical training. With my weak body, there was no way to dodge.
‘This is nothing compared to what I went through before.’
I closed my eyes, bracing for the blow.
“Peter! What are you doing?!”
A voice struck like lightning. I opened my eyes.
Irina-sensei stood there, usually gentle-faced, but now her expression was hard.
Behind her was a figure in a robe and some men who looked like his guards.
“S-sensei, it isn’t what—” the boy stammered, shocked. I looked away — I didn’t want to help him.
“They say this is a high-class orphanage, but apparently not,” the robed man said. His voice was pleasant but lined with contempt.
Irina, visibly flustered, hurried to smooth things over.
“No, that’s not it. Children get into all kinds of scrapes… I’m sorry if we offended you. Peter, go back to your room. Violence isn’t okay.”
“Y-yes, sorry, Irina-sensei.” The boy turned pale and left, his fists trembling.
He’ll probably get locked up for a while. At least he’s sponsored — he’s not in danger of being sold, unlike what might’ve happened to me back then.
“Oh! This is the child I told you about — Anisha, right? Say hello.”
I lifted my head slowly. Behind the robe, I saw bright purple eyes that gave off a mysterious vibe. For a second, I spaced out, but Irina nudged me, and I tucked up my skirt and bowed properly.
“Nice to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Anisha.” I forced a bright smile — they say don’t spit on someone who smiles at you — but his reaction was lukewarm.
I thought I looked cute.’
I’d been trying to look good because he might be a sponsor, but it didn’t work out. I stepped back. No need to take chances — I don’t know this noble at all.
“…Did you teach this child noble etiquette?” he asked after a long moment.
“Yes. Our orphanage prepares children for support or to become servants in noble houses, so we teach them many things,” Irina answered.
“You recognized I’m a noble, huh?”
Really? He’s wearing that fancy robe and talking down to Irina — how could we not notice? And the guy had no shame.
“You have an elegant walk and way of speaking,” I said cheerfully to cover it up. He snorted and turned his head like he was annoyed.
“My dignity’s visible even with a robe on. Well, expected.”
Oh, great — another narcissistic noble.
“Anisha, he came looking for you.”
“Me?” The thought of this noble coming for me was surprising. How did he even know me? My guard went up.
“Come along, then.”
They led us to the reception room — the kind of place used for receiving important guests. Irina poured tea politely, and the man — arrogantly — sat right in the center of the sofa, crossing one leg.
‘Is he a very big noble?’ Irina was unusually submissive to him, more than I’d seen for other nobles or merchants. That told me he really was someone big.
I waited quietly by the sofa — kids couldn’t do anything without permission, that was rule number one here. Irina left the room and then came back to sit.
“I’ll step out for a bit,” she said.
“Excuse me? But this is about adoption counseling—”
“When did I say you were being adopted? I decide. You’ve got nothing to do.”
Wow. He had one of those voices that can make even polite words sound nasty.
“I said leave.” His tone was sharp. Irina stood, her face red; she forced a smile.
“I’ll be outside. Call me when you’re done.” She left.
“Anisha.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t be rude to the guest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered politely. This man is the one who screens kids for sponsorships and adoptions here — he decides who gets what. I needed to impress him.
I softened my expression to look as sweet and obedient as possible. Money and backing meant I could get away from that mad scientist. Once I had that safety, I’d ruin him and the orphanage that handed me over.
I hope he can keep smiling if he ever gets blindsided by me.’
The heavy door closed — it was soundproof, so the outside couldn’t hear us. The man tossed off his robe with an annoyed flick; one of his guards went to pick it up.
What a rude guy.’
I caught my breath looking at him — green hair like fresh leaves in summer and bright purple eyes. He was impossibly handsome and noble-looking. For a second, I couldn’t look away.
‘He looks familiar.’ Green hair and purple eyes — separately common, together not so much. If you’re a noble, that combo narrows the field.
“You—” I said.
“Yes.” I stood frozen, politely answering while trying to dig a memory out of my head.
Green hair, purple eyes… a name brushed past my mind.
“He looks precisely like a shabby little mutt.”
Yeah. That was my first meeting with the infamously ruthless, sharp-tongued genius noble — the hateful Duke Shacol Aubrey. The one who’s brilliant, cruel, and has the worst personality in this ear
