Chapter 171
The headmistress recalled the day she first met Ibi.
It had been the middle of a harsh winter, with a fierce blizzard blowing.
When she mentioned crossing the mountain, people warned her — that mountain was crawling with wolves, so she should be sure to travel with others even during the day.
Perhaps that was why there was an inn at the foot of the mountain where travelers gathered before making the crossing.
‘I’ll join up with others here.’
Feeling relieved, she started toward the inn’s entrance.
“Get out there already and get it done!”
A loud voice rang from inside, followed by the sound of something being thrown.
Then came bursts of coarse laughter.
‘I must’ve picked the wrong place.’
The headmistress sighed unconsciously.
The atmosphere inside didn’t sound promising.
It might be wiser to find another inn if she wanted a quiet night’s rest.
But when she turned to look around, there were no other inns nearby with lights still on.
Whiiiish—!
The wind howled louder, the snow swirling so thickly that it pinned her in place.
“Haa…”
She swallowed her sigh.
‘There’s no helping it.’
It was far too cold to wander around looking for another place.
Besides, her purse was heavy — she had just been paid back a tidy sum.
It felt far more dangerous to be out in the storm with that much money.
No, better to put up with the noise and get inside quickly, warm herself, and wait for morning.
That was also the fastest way to get back to the children at the orphanage.
‘I hope those little ones are doing well.’
She had left them in the care of the other teachers, so there shouldn’t be any major problems — but she still worried. Some of the children would cry for her all day if she wasn’t there.
‘Fine. Just for tonight.’
With that thought, she opened the door.
As expected, the inn was in complete chaos.
Though it wasn’t even that late, the place was packed with townsfolk already drunk out of their minds, a raucous drinking party in full swing.
Noticing a new customer, the innkeeper — the husband of the couple who ran the place — stood and came over.
“Oh, welcome, traveler. Looking to stay the night?”
“Yes. Just one night. I’ll be crossing the forest once it’s light, so I was hoping to find some others traveling that way.”
“You came to the right place. Half the folks here are heading over the mountain come morning. You can join them. But first, how about a meal?”
“Just some bread and butter, please. I’m tired, so I’d prefer to get to my room early.”
At hearing that she wasn’t going to spend much on food or drink, the man’s expression stiffened slightly.
“Ah… sure, suit yourself.”
His tone turned curt as he moved to show her the room, when—
“Hey! She’s still here! What’re you gonna do about it?”
Someone drunkenly shouted from inside.
“What? Still not gone?”
The man turned and stomped toward the corner.
That was when the headmistress noticed a small child standing there amid the noisy crowd.
“Why are you moving so slow?”
Despite the bitter winter cold, the little girl wore thin, tattered clothes that barely covered her.
She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old.
She had faded golden hair and deep green eyes.
A child that age should’ve been sitting by a warm window, watching the snow fall — not standing here.
“Ah…”
The headmistress bit back a groan.
Her shoes were falling apart, her hands covered in cuts, her clothes filthy — anyone could tell she was being forced to work here.
The headmistress had seen many children forced into harsh labor before, but never one so young.
She opened her mouth, ready to protest—
Thud!
The child’s small body hit the wall with a dull sound.
“Get out there now! How dare you be lazy?”
The little girl’s frail body was completely hidden behind the innkeeper’s larger frame.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
The headmistress cried, rushing over in shock.
“Sweetheart, are you all right?”
She tried to help the child up, but froze when she felt the tiny wrist in her hand.
For a child that age, she should still have baby fat — but the girl’s limbs were so thin they felt like bare bone under skin.
The headmistress swallowed her horror.
Did these people even feed her?
“How could you treat a child like this!”
“A child? She’s five! Old enough to earn her keep! We feed her, clothe her — she ought to pay that back somehow!”
The man’s shameless words left her speechless.
Five years old — and even smaller than others her age — yet treated like property.
She bit her lip hard.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen such cruelty.
After the war, orphans overflowed across the Empire.
Some had truly lost their parents; others had simply been separated in the chaos.
Resources and manpower were already scarce — who would waste them caring for abandoned children?
So, in those days, such children were often “adopted,” which was little more than a polite word for being sold off.
They were treated like slaves in their new “homes.”
But then, the new emperor, Clois, had issued a special decree — official adoptions could only be done through designated orphanages and institutions.
He also ordered every lord to build and directly oversee an orphanage in their own territory, subject to imperial inspection.
At first, the nobles thought it was just for show.
But when they saw the emperor assign two of his most trusted and strict ministers — the Prime Minister and Duke Caelan — to supervise it, they changed their tune.
Defying that order meant punishment.
So they diverted funds from their mansions and fine clothes to build orphanages.
Gradually, the number of street children fell.
Names, ages, and even physical traits were registered and sent to the capital.
Parents who had lost their children would come and search those records day and night, desperate to find any clue.
And thanks to that, countless children were reunited with their families.
But not all stories had happy endings.
Many children whose parents had died in the war remained in the orphanages.
Some had been rescued from abusive masters who’d treated them like slaves.
And each time, the headmistress had heard the same thing shouted at her:
“Do you know how much it cost to feed and raise that brat? Pay me back if you want to take them!”
They would even name their price — as if they were selling cattle.
It made her stomach turn, but faced with starving, dying children, she’d paid again and again to save them.
The orphanage’s budget had grown tighter and tighter.
The teachers began to speak to her carefully.
“Headmistress… we can’t save every child.”
“And the number of children here keeps growing…”
She couldn’t blame them.
Funds were limited, and the children they already had needed to eat and grow.
She’d already spent all her own savings. If she spent more to rescue another child, the rest would go hungry.
Realizing that, she’d made herself a promise — from now on, she would report such cases to the local lord and no longer intervene personally.
She had sworn it.
And yet—
“Ugh…”
The child’s weak groan snapped her back from her thoughts.
The girl bowed slightly in thanks, then stood up by herself.
Then she turned to the innkeeper and bowed again.
“Sir… if I go into the forest tonight… I might not come back. The wolves… they’re following right behind me…”
Her voice trembled pitifully — the sound of someone truly facing death.
“You’ve gone plenty of times and come back fine! Stop lying and get going! I told you to fetch water!”
The innkeeper barked and swung his fist threateningly.
The little girl stumbled back in fright, but pleaded again.
“It’s true… if I go tonight, I really will die… please… spare me…”
She fell to her knees, begging.
Even with the fire burning and doors shut, the cold bit through the walls.
And he was sending her out like that? Into a forest full of wolves?
The headmistress couldn’t hold back any longer — she stepped between them.
The child’s thin shoulders trembled violently.
“Stop it!” she shouted.
“Hey, miss, step aside. She’s just trying to get out of work. Fine, she can leave — if she pays back every coin she owes! Ungrateful brat! I told you to fetch water, not talk back!”
One of the drunkards spoke up to support the innkeeper.
“You must be new here, lady. That kid never dies in the woods. She’s been sent out there dozens of times in the dead of night and always came back fine. So, place your bets — the merchant over there’s betting she won’t make it this time.”
The man lowered his voice as if sharing some grand secret.
The headmistress was horrified.
Dozens of times? They’d sent this tiny girl into a wolf-infested forest again and again — and they were gambling on whether she would die?
She finally understood what it meant to be too shocked to speak.
She looked at the child still kneeling on the floor.
That small body trembled helplessly.
And then she realized why something had felt wrong from the start.
Any child in such fear would be crying by now.
But this girl wasn’t crying.
She only begged for her life — without tears, without hope.
As if she already knew her words would never be heard.
Her eyes were hollow, filled only with resignation.
