Chapter 49
“Lina too? Lina was adopted as well?”
“Yes.”
“She flinched just at the mention of ‘brother’ earlier. Was it because she was adopted and the family’s child tormented her?”
“Most likely.”
Jeff didn’t know the full story either.
Hera gave a small nod.
Now that she knew Lina was someone’s illegitimate child and had been abused in the household that took her in, there was no way she could simply send the girl back.
What’s more, Hera believed Lina’s cruel adoptive parents and siblings deserved due punishment for their sins.
“Don’t worry. I can help her. My brother works with the City Guard. If I tell him—”
“No! You mustn’t!”
At the words City Guard, Jeff jerked his head up, his voice rising again with agitation.
“It wasn’t just bullying. This is….”
His lips trembled as though dragged back into painful memories.
“Adopted children always get cast out. Most end up dead and dumped under the bridge.”
“What?”
“I told you before—there are people who ‘dispose’ of bastards.”
Jeff deliberately emphasized the word dispose, and Hera’s skin crawled.
The children under the bridge were living in a reality far more brutal than she had ever imagined.
“Lina… she only survived by sheer luck.”
“If it’s that serious, then why shouldn’t we report it to the City Guard?”
“Because whoever runs this business has to be a noble. And the City Guard never arrests nobles.”
Jeff looked straight at her, as if to say, You really don’t know this?
Even knowing she was the sister of the Guard’s commander, he didn’t sugarcoat it.
Among the poor, the City Guard had one reputation: they never touched nobles.
Hera lost her words, her gaze shifting away.
The sharp, watchful eyes of the nobles she’d seen back at the B-flat district’s restaurant flickered through her mind.
“The people under the bridge… they built graves for the dead children. And since they had nothing to wear, they took the children’s clothes. It’s enough evidence to pin the crimes on them. The Guard will only take away the powerless poor. Isn’t it obvious? We both know how that ends.”
Hera had no reply.
Anything she said now would only come off as cruel to Jeff.
“Promise me, sister. Swear you won’t tell the City Guard.”
In the end, all Hera could do was nod solemnly to his desperate plea.
“I promise.”
The medicine seemed to work well, for Lina opened her eyes the next morning.
Though her body was still covered in bruises and her mouth so raw she could manage only thin soup, those physical wounds would heal with time.
What unsettled her more was realizing she was in Tolinga.
When Hera explained the situation and said she should stay until she fully recovered, the child obediently nodded. Yet she kept scratching her fingers with her nails, her face taut with anxiety.
At dawn, Jeff slipped away from Tolinga to deliver news to those under the bridge who worried for Lina.
That left Hera to care for the girl herself.
“Who’s the little one, sister?”
The moment Hera led Lina down to the dining room, Cecilia’s eyes went wide.
“She’s badly hurt. I brought her to treat her. Her name’s Lina.”
“Mhm— I’m Cecilia.”
But Lina, uneasy with Cecilia’s attention, hid behind Hera’s skirt, refusing to let go of her hand.
Noticing the tight grip, Cecilia narrowed her eyes.
“Clingy little thing, isn’t she? Already glued to you?”
“Cecilia….”
“I’m just saying hello. How old is she?”
“She’s six.”
Hera answered in Lina’s place and took a seat. The child settled into the chair beside her.
“Lina can’t chew solid food yet. Please bring her a bowl of soup.”
“As you wish.”
The cook bowed and headed back to the kitchen.
Julian’s seat at the table was empty, with no place setting laid. He had been too busy with Guard work lately to even join meals.
“He must have left for work already?”
“Yes, my lady. The young master departed at first light.”
Hera quietly breathed out.
It was better this way. Had Julian been there, she wouldn’t have known how to explain Lina.
She had promised Jeff not to let the Guard know about the girl, after all.
Then who can I turn to for help…?
She couldn’t keep Lina in Tolinga forever.
Since the girl was illegitimate, perhaps finding her birth parents would be best. If they heard what she’d been through, surely they would find some way to protect her.
They were her parents, after all.
But where could she even start?
“Then… perhaps only His Grace, the Duke.”
The words slipped out before Hera realized it. She covered her mouth, startled that the only person she truly trusted now was Marriott Laurent.
“Lucky brat,” Cecilia muttered. “When would a girl like you ever eat in a noble’s dining hall? Judging by your looks, you were probably from a halfway-decent commoner family at best.”
She tore her bread into pieces as she spoke, her tone laced with barbs.
Lina shrank even smaller. Cecilia smirked at the sight.
“Clever little thing, though. Tugging at people’s sympathy works. It’s a trick only children can get away with, so you’d better milk it.”
Clatter.
Hera set down her cutlery hard enough against the plate to make her point clear.
Cecilia immediately caught the warning.
“…Sister….”
She knew Hera’s temper. Quickly, Cecilia put on the pitiful look of a puppy about to be scolded.
Normally Hera would have let it pass.
But insulting a six-year-old? Hera’s anger was real this time.
“Cecilia. Lina is my guest. I’d appreciate it if you’d act accordingly.”
“…I’m sorry.”
The room turned cold in an instant.
Hera had only intended a brief rebuke, but Cecilia’s face went white—like she’d been through this before.
Just as Hera was about to say that was enough, a gagging sound came from beside her.
“Ugh—cough!”
“Lina!”
The girl vomited up the little soup she’d eaten.
The stifling atmosphere Hera and Cecilia had created had driven her into terror.
The reason was clear.
This was the kind of suffocating tension she must have lived in while being abused.
“There are people making a business out of bastards?”
“According to Jeff, yes.”
Lina had barely stopped retching before she collapsed into a faint, fast asleep.
Hera stroked her frail back, unease twisting her chest.
This child desperately needed help.
So Hera told Cecilia everything she knew.
“They trick people by saying they’ll place the child in a good home, take money, then abandon the child. Most of the time, the child dies.”
Hera expected indifference. Maybe a scoff or a curse—Cecilia had never shown interest in the misfortunes of the poor.
But her reaction was nothing of the sort.
Her eyes burned, brimming with rage barely held back, as though she might set someone on fire with a glare alone.
“Cecilia?”
“So those vermin exist everywhere, huh.”
Her words carried weight, as if she’d seen something like this before.
Then, regaining control, she spoke soberly. The mocking girl from earlier was gone.
“The under-bridge area is managed by the Jackal Club. Think of them as a vigilante group. If you want to dig deeper, start there.”
“Thank you.”
Hera hadn’t expected Cecilia’s help. She paused, then smiled warmly.
Despite her flaws, Cecilia had a good heart.
But this time, Cecilia didn’t smile back.
Her eyes darkened instead, as if she had stumbled across an unwelcome truth.
In a whisper, she said, “Moments like this… I really feel that you’ve lost your memories.”
