“Good. It’s done.”
Only when the orphanage disappeared completely from the carriage window did Kristan finally awaken from his thoughts.
The eyes of the mother he last saw no longer held even a trace of warmth toward him. Her cold gaze had been that of a stranger.
Every time Kristan recalled those eyes, it felt as if a sharp awl pierced his heart. But if that was what it took for her to escape this damned family, then so be it.
“It’s fine now.”
The boy closed the carriage window and shut his tired eyes. Yet behind his eyelids, the mother he remembered was still warm.
“Wow, it’s Lady Karia!”
“Lady Karia, you’re so pretty! You look like a princess!”
Because various circumstances had kept her from visiting the orphanage for some time, the children who spotted her came running, cheering. Dozens of them gathered around her in a circle, leaving her trapped in the middle of the yard.
But she had already predicted this situation. She lifted her arm to shoulder height and snapped her fingers.
“Lodewig.”
“Yes, my lady.”
At her signal, the coachman unloaded gifts from the carriage. Clothes, shoes, picture books, toys—an armful of items that would make any child’s eyes sparkle.
As expected, the children—always struggling with shortages at the orphanage—squealed with joy and rushed toward the gifts. Leaving the children to the coachman-golem, Karia strolled calmly into the orphanage.
“Duchess? Oh—welcome… but those things…?”
“I thought the orphanage seemed to be in need of all sorts of things these days. So I picked up a few things on the way.”
The orphanage director looked dumbfounded at Karia’s changed appearance and the mountain of gifts. But she soon collected herself and began scolding the excited children.
“Kids, aren’t you forgetting something? You should thank the duchess first!”
At her urging, the children stopped rummaging through the presents and shouted in unison, “Thank you, Lady Karia!”
Karia gazed at them fondly and placed a hand on the director’s shoulder.
“No need for thanks. I’m giving these because the children are cute. I came today because there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Ah—please, come in. This way.”
The director guided Karia to her office as if escorting a delicate ice flower that might shatter at a touch. The moment Karia sat down, she draped a blanket over her legs and brought her warm tea—acting entirely as though tending to a frail patient.
“How is your body? Have you had any more episodes of pain?”
“Well… for now, I’m all right.”
“Duchess—”
“Ah, please don’t call me that anymore. I’m planning to get a divorce—”
“Divorce? Divorce?! Don’t tell me the duke is abandoning you because you’re ill?! That man deserves divine punishment—!”
Her questions turned into a storm, and before long she declared the duke a vile scoundrel and unleashed every insult she could think of. It seemed she had long suspected that Karia was being mistreated in the ducal household, and now the outrage burst free.
Of course, the duke was trash beyond recycling, but Karia quietly set down her teacup to stop her. Even if true, a mere commoner speaking ill of a duke could be dragged off and killed without a trace.
“Let’s stop there. I came because I have something to ask of you and something to request.”
“Yes, please tell me anything. If it’s within my power, I’ll do it.”
“According to your grandfather’s research notes… how long do you think I have left to live?”
At Karia’s blunt question, the director’s lips clamped shut. She turned her head, making faint choking sounds as she fought back tears, but never showed her face. It was her small way of showing consideration.
After a while, regaining her composure, she answered in a slightly trembling but clear voice:
“At first, the pain appears sporadically. Then it begins to follow a certain cycle. The longer the illness progresses, the shorter the interval becomes. Once the cycle shortens to about a week… the body rapidly weakens. And once it reaches that stage, no one has survived more than six months.”
“From the first episode to the second took a month… the next was about a week apart. So I’ll know if a cycle has formed once the next attack comes. Meaning at most, I have six months left.”
The calm way Karia spoke about her own death, as if it were someone else’s problem, made the director burst into tears again. She must have thought Karia was only pretending to be strong.
But whether the director cried or not, Karia was too busy calculating in her head.
‘The elixir recipe is proven… but can I gather all the ingredients within six months? I’m short on hands.’
She considered abandoning the divorce for now and locking herself away in the forest castle to mass-produce golems. But the castle lacked many necessities, so she would constantly need to fetch supplies from the capital—making true seclusion impossible.
Not to mention, that forest itself was already known as a strange and dangerous place. Getting spotted entering it would raise suspicion.
As she weighed her options, the director suddenly grabbed Karia’s hand tightly. With eyes wet but determined, she pressed a small vial into Karia’s palm.
“I… there’s nothing much I can do for you, but I made a painkiller. It’s stronger than anything you can buy on the market. They say this illness causes an unbearable burning agony, as if the body is set on fire…”
“Ah, thank you. I just happened to need something like this.”
“One pill eases the pain. Two will put you into a deep sleep. If you chew them, the effect comes faster.”
“And three pills would…?”
At her question, the director’s eyes filled with tears once more. Karia didn’t need the answer spelled out.
“I also have something to give you. Take it.”
Karia pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her cloak and handed it over. It was a bank check, already filled in.
“T-this…! Oh dear, I can’t accept such an amount!”
“Take it. I originally issued it to buy a house, but… circumstances changed and I got it for free.”
The director turned pale when she saw the amount—one hundred thousand gold. Enough to build three orphanages of this size.
Thinking surely the number of zeroes was wrong, she tried to return it. But Karia waved her hand dismissively.
“If it bothers you, think of it as hush money. If anyone comes asking about me, just say I quietly volunteered here and left. Nothing about the illness. Especially not to those who claim to be my family.”
This orphanage was a well-known place within Karia’s daily range of movement. Anyone suspicious of her would investigate here first. The director could easily find herself interrogated by high-ranking nobles she had never met before.
Hearing Karia’s warning, the director swore she would keep silent even if it tore her lips apart. Sensing her sincerity, Karia stood.
“Karia-nim, are you leaving already?”
“I wanted to play more…”
“You must come again! Promise!”
The children saw her off, standing in a line. They set aside the clothes and toys they had been so happy about and looked only at her.
Even while caring for them, Karia had often wondered whether gifts alone were enough—that maybe they needed a wealthier patron who could support the orphanage long-term.
But seeing the children and the director welcome her with such pure affection made all her doubts melt away. Even as the carriage left the orphanage, the children kept waving, and warmth bloomed in Karia’s chest.
“…Warm.”
Yes. For the first time in a very long while, her heart felt warm. Even though it was a cool night with the moon high and the stars faint, she felt a heat that didn’t belong there.
And that warmth grew hotter and hotter, heating her skin. As the carriage entered the forest and approached the Castle of Lubaltverh, the heat intensified.
“—Why is it so bright?”
The forest, usually pitch-dark, was strangely illuminated today. And she realized why only when she reached the castle.
Dozens of elves were surrounding her castle… and setting it on fire.
Karia leapt from the moving carriage the moment she saw it.
“YOU POINTY-EARED IDIOTS—WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”
A furious bolt of golden lightning struck the center of the forest.
“So? Which one of you wants to die first?”
It took her only three minutes. These soft, peace-spoiled elves—who hesitated to cast offensive magic on anything living—fell beneath her in the time it would take to steep a cup of tea.
And even then, thirty seconds of that was spent wiping mud from her boots.
Karia glared down at the red-haired heads kneeling on the cold garden floor, bound and trembling.
They struggled to break free of the binding magic, but it wouldn’t come undone—and even if it did, there was no escaping this place.
Were these really supposed to be mages? Feeling the overwhelming difference in power, the elves’ faces twisted with despair, as if they could die any moment.
“My lady,” said the golem, “these long-eared beasts have been attempting to infiltrate the castle several times a day for the past three days. I believe they followed me while I was searching the forest under your orders. I apologize.”
