PLTSVA 01

CRACK—

The sound shattered the silence of the dark, still Troy Orphanage.

I couldn’t tell what I had stepped on in the darkness. But what mattered was that the noise was louder than expected.

Miss Rayola was a notoriously light sleeper, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she burst through that heavy door at any second.

BANG!!

And of course, the door I prayed wouldn’t open slammed open with a thunderous force.

“Who is it?! Who’s the naughty child breaking the 11 PM lights-out rule?!”

A shrill, menacing voice echoed through the silence, just like a witch out of a fairy tale.

She waddled toward me with exaggerated steps, her heavy body unbalanced, and even in my fifteen-year-old body, I had to crane my neck to look up at her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Rayola. I had a scary dream and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I just got up to drink some water.”

I spoke with a trembling voice, carefully watching her expression. I knew how much she hated hearing children cry.

If she were a normal orphanage director, she might have smiled kindly, patted my head, and said, “Oh dear.”

But this was Rayola—the infamous former mercenary turned orphanage director!

Her reddish-brown eyes were bloodshot, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

She often suffered from insomnia, and even a short nap was precious to her.

Unfortunately, it seemed tonight was one of those rare restful moments that I had ruined.

Still squinting in the dark, she stormed out without seeing the decorative tree in front of her—and crashed right into it.

“Gasp…”

Before I could even take a breath, the tree toppled over, falling onto the massive figure of Miss Rayola.

CRASH!

Lights and ornaments, carefully decorated by the children for the Imperial Festival, shattered in all sorts of ways.

“AAAHHH—!”

What a disaster this was turning into.

Glass shards large and small scattered all the way to my feet.

“I, I’m—”

“You are NOT okay!”

Miss Rayola shot up with a roar.

Fortunately, none of the children came out despite the ruckus.

They knew all too well: if you opened your door now, you’d be stuck listening to a one-hour scolding that could easily stretch to five.

Miss Rayola, now wide awake, stepped toward me, carefully avoiding the broken glass.

Looking both comical and terrifying, she moved closer, and I thought to myself:

Fine, I’ll just give up an ear today.

I braced myself for her machine-gun-like nagging.

“Lia! Go sit in the thinking chair!”

I shelved the plan I had for tonight and let her drag me to the dreaded “thinking chair.”

Last time, Terry had endured a record three hours of scolding. Something told me I might break that record tonight.

Miss Rayola clicked her tongue at the mess, then grabbed a thin rod from atop a nightstand.

The rod didn’t look painful, but her arm—built like a weapon—was the real threat.

I swallowed dryly and walked toward the chair placed in the center of the room.

Crunch.

“Ow—!”

A shard of glass pierced my foot, sharp enough to bring tears to my eyes.

But I didn’t let out a sound. Provoking Rayola now would only make things worse.

I stepped on at least three more shards before finally collapsing into the old chair with a sigh.

“I’m a bad kid who broke the 11 PM lights-out rule.”

That’s how it worked. When you sat in the chair, you had to confess your wrongdoing.

Miss Rayola approached, twirling the rod in her hand like a predator circling prey.

“Lia, you’re an orphan raised in the prestigious Troy Orphanage under the patronage of the Grand Duke of Cablos, and yet you’re always causing trouble.”

Not a single word of that was true—except my name was Lia.

The Grand Duke of Cablos didn’t sponsor us. We barely had money to survive, eating nothing but potatoes every day.

The Troy Orphanage wasn’t prestigious at all. Hidden deep in a forest, most people didn’t even know it existed.

And the word “care” was laughable. Miss Rayola was a tyrant who did nothing but yell at kids.

Most importantly, I’m not an orphan. Not in this life, or the last.

My current family probably still lived comfortably in a grand castle in the capital.

While I was lost in thought, Rayola kept talking.

“What’s Rule #4 of Troy Orphanage’s top ten rules?”

“Lights out at eleven.”

“And yet you still broke it. You must think I’m a joke!”

She slapped her palm with the rod irritably.

I wiggled my aching, ticklish feet.

Her voice grew louder, and a headache started pounding in my skull—until…

BANG—

The door opened again.

Luca?!

There he stood, a boy with unreadable expression, staring into the room.

Through the cracked door, I could see other kids peeking out, worried.

“YOU LITTLE—! What are you doing out?!”

Miss Rayola shrieked, flailing her rod.

“It’s too noisy. I can’t sleep.”

“Can’t sleep?!”

“…Ma’am.”

That delayed honorific made him sound even more insolent.

I stared at Luca, one year younger than me, jaw dropped.

He looked back at me and said,

“Lia didn’t do anything wrong. I asked her to bring me water.”

Miss Rayola’s nerves were visibly fraying from Luca’s defiant tone.

“Switch places—!”

I blinked in confusion.

“I said, SWITCH PLACES!”

I stood up hesitantly, and Luca walked over and sat down in the thinking chair.

“I’m a bad kid who got Lia in trouble.”

Like me, he calmly stated his “sin.”

Rayola looked dumbfounded for a second—then blew up.

“That’s your excuse?! You really don’t know what you did wrong?!”

“There’s nothing else I did.”

“Who taught you to be like this?!”

Me… I did. I taught him…

I had no doubt. I was the one who had taught Luca.

I resisted the urge to run over and shake him while reciting the “11 things never to do in front of the witch.”

Rayola waved me away with an exhausted groan.

“You, go inside. I’ll deal with Luca and his bad manners tonight.”

Luca never asked me to get him water…

I looked at him in confusion. He gave a small nod—Go.

He was going to take my place. Stand in for me.

That was thicker than blood.

But when I glanced at the rod in Rayola’s hand, anxiety spiked.

Luca noticed and mouthed, Just go.

His firm expression convinced me.

I stepped carefully back into the room, my sore feet aching.

Before the door closed, I caught one last glimpse of Rayola’s looming figure.

Still, Luca faced her with calm, red eyes.

The door shut silently, and I slumped to the floor.

The blood dripping from my foot wasn’t the issue.

I’m worried about Luca. Why did he do that…?

Rayola was unusually lenient toward “attractive” kids like him.

She hated damaging “goods.”

But judging from Luca’s attitude, this wasn’t going to end in a lecture.

The thought of that kid enduring her alone chilled my blood.

His light brown hair, those glowing red eyes in the dark… I couldn’t shake the image.

“I can’t just leave things like this.”

I crossed the room, sat at a desk, and began writing in a graceful, adult-like hand:

[To Miss Rayola]

That’s how it started—with the recipient’s name.

[I love you. I melt in your warm reddish-brown eyes. Your passionate care for the children—could you be an angel in disguise? I long to meet you under the rising twin moons.]

Even writing it made my skin crawl.

[From Baron Louiscon]

Rayola was a devoted stalker of Baron Louiscon, the noble overseeing this orphanage.

Despite her monstrous nature, she was weak to love.

If she thought the Baron admired her dedication to the children…!

Of course, Baron Louiscon treated her like a bug. The real trick was whether she’d fall for it.

Especially since the ink was still wet and I had to blow on it.

I sent a silent prayer—not to anyone in particular, just hoping Luca would survive.

Then I dramatically slipped the note under the door.

Moments later—

“What is this trash?!”

Rayola grumbled about the kids never cleaning up.

But seconds passed…

“Oh my, how did I miss this?! The Baron finally wrote me back!”

She squealed like a schoolgirl.

Thankfully, she fell for my sloppy ruse.

Sometimes I wondered if her mental age was lower than ours.

If she hadn’t been a burly ex-mercenary, she never could’ve run this place with just her brute force.

Thankfully, she was entirely ruled by emotion. Humming cheerfully, she tossed the rod aside and returned to her room.

Only after her door clicked shut did I exhale.

I opened our door cautiously—and Luca was right outside.

I jumped, startled, but he just looked at me calmly.

Is this what it takes to be a male lead in a novel?

Relieved, I grabbed his cheeks.

They were like soft mochi. I stretched them.

“Mweh’re you doing…?”

“Don’t ever do that again. I was the one in the wrong. I should be punished.”

Luca looked into my eyes silently. Then he gently pulled my hands down.

Suddenly, he leaned in, his face just inches from mine.

“W-What are you doing?!”