Chapter 59
Because We Have Only Ourselves
Kisha and Misha stood far away, staring at the crumbling orphanage with blank expressions as it collapsed with a loud crackling noise.
“We only set fire to that one room, though.”
“Why is it spreading so fast…?”
“Well, who told you to spill gasoline all over the floor?”
Before setting fire, they looked around here and there to rescue the children, but all the rooms were empty. Fortunately, the children had clearly said they were going to sleep, but they had no idea where they had gone.
And the orphanage was engulfed in a terrifying flame.
“Hey, where are we going to live now?”
“We’re fine physically, so I guess we’ll just have to do manual labor or something.”
“Ugh, we should’ve just gone with that weird lady.”
Kisha and Misha looked at each other’s faces covered in soot, scratching their heads at the situation where they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. At that moment, a beeping sound echoed through the forest.
Their hearts sank.
If their predictions were correct, it was the sound of the local patrol unit was on its way.
*****
Kisha and Misha ran frantically into the forest.
However, it was only a matter of time before they were caught by the patrol surrounding them.
In the bright white detention center, they were each asked to write down their personal information. Their hands instinctively trembled.
Name, age, origin.
Just those three things.
They could write their new names, keep their real ages, and claim they didn’t know their origins because they were orphans—simple enough.
But they hesitated because they overheard someone say, “We’ll have to investigate the burned orphanage.” At the same time, both imagined the burned corpse of the director, who had undoubtedly been reduced to ashes.
The two whispered to each other.
“If this is the case, then we’re the ones who killed the director, right? In Secradion, murder is always punishable by death.”
“Death penalty?”
“Uh. Hanging. Hanging by the neck.”
Of course, it wasn’t a feeling of guilt. It was just a fear that they would die for something they didn’t do. Instead of Kisha, who couldn’t write, Misha was writing her name at a snail’s pace.
“What happened?!”
The outside of the detention center became noisy. And then a familiar voice was heard.
“My villa is burning!”
“Miss, calm down!”
“Calm down? How can I calm down? Oh no! Who would do such a thing?”
Misha and Kisha stopped writing and approached the iron bars. As expected, Daphne Beaucater as making a grand scene, her face practically screaming, “I’m fully committed to this performance.”
She was dressed in a halter-neck gown that bared her shoulders and arms, accessorized with jewelry that looked ridiculously expensive—earrings, necklaces, bracelets, brooches, and more.
“Aren’t she the lady of the Green family?”
The inspector approached her, took off his hat, and greeted her. He also looked curious as to why Daphne had appeared here.
“Yes. I am Daphne of Beaucater and Green. I am also the niece of King Rodriguez.”
The inspector nodded as if he knew everything.
“And currently Countess of Serenade.”
Her introduction dragged on. Daphne emphasized her title, not wanting to be seen as just someone’s daughter or relative.
“Is that so? I apologize for making you come here.”
“Oh my, these kids did this? I can’t believe it.”
“Do you know these children?”
“Yes. Of course I do. They are the children I tried to hire for my mansion.”
“Those orphans?”
Daphne’s clear and precise pronunciation echoed throughout the inspector’s office. Now that I looked, there were orphans huddled next to Daphne’s maid.
“I saw those kids carrying cooking oil!”
“Not cooking oil—gasoline! Gasoline!”
Misha sighed deeply. No wonder the children hadn’t been in their rooms. She had no idea when they had been taken away.
Kisha dumbly muttered, “Our savior,” to which Misha jabbed his stomach with her elbow.
“Why is that place yours? There…”
“I bought that building from that old man a long time ago. For 4 billion Leon.”
It wasn’t that long ago, it was only three days ago. Daphne simply dismissed it as old times.
“You mean you bought that shabby building for 4 billion?”
“Yes, because I thought it was worth the price.”
Daphne looked back and forth between Kisha and Misha.
“And now my villa is gone, burned to the ground. I’m so heartbroken I could cry. I nearly fainted when I heard the news. Oh, what a cruel world.”
“Oh, my poor, delicate lady! Please stay strong!”
Daphne clutched her forehead as though she might collapse, and her ash-blond maid supported her, adding to the theatrics.
Kisha suddenly thought that her golden eyes looked like the snakes she had seen in the sea.
“It was my first villa, which I bought with the inheritance my godfather left me.”
Daphne, who had lied carefully, dipped her eyes with a light green handkerchief.
‘You really bought it with your inheritance?’
Misha could see clearly that she wasn’t shedding tears, but everyone behind her was feeling sorry for her.
“Countess Serenade, what would you like to do? Shall we hand these orphans over to the royal city police?”
Daphne seemed slightly embarrassed by the title before clearing her throat.
“No, children can make mistakes. Release them. I’ll take them with me.”
“Pardon?”
“They say debt relationships are the strongest ones.”
Daphne grinned as she said this.
Misha let out a short, incredulous laugh. As expected, the woman’s voice, overflowing with confidence and almost bursting with self-assurance, rang out again.
“In exchange, you two will work for me until every last bit of that debt is paid off.”
*****
Their reminiscence about the past continued until they reached the Beaucater estate.
Daphne and Misha reflected on the old days, each with a different perspective—fond nostalgia for one, and bizarre memories for the other.
“Back then you’re a bit crazy… young lady.”
“I got a pay cut.”
Misha shrugged.
“Well, you’ve grown a lot since then.”
“What, are you mocking me because I’m taller now? Don’t forget you’re two years younger than me.”
“Once I pay off my debt…”
“I never stop anyone from leaving. But you still owe me 3 billion, don’t you?”
The Sasha brothers had taken responsibility for the burning of “Daphne’s villa.” They agreed to split the debt evenly, 2 billion each.
While working for Daphne, they earned a decent annual salary, and she occasionally gave them extra allowances with a casual, “Buy something you like.” She genuinely treated them like family.
Kisha rarely indulged, except when meeting his girlfriends. Instead, he saved diligently and made regular payments. Sometimes, he even handed over prize money from the occasional swordsmanship competition he entered.
Misha, on the other hand, saw his debt mysteriously increase. Every day, he’d grumble about quitting once he paid it off. He tried everything to strike it rich—gambling, investments—but ended up losing everything every time.
“Damn it.”
Daphne reclined lazily on the sofa in the drawing room, picking up a novel that lay nearby.
“I’ve been curious—didn’t you two not have real names? Something about the sea and something fragile?”
“Not fragile. It was ‘promise,’ my lady.”
“Promise? Really?”
Daphne paused, then burst into laughter.
“It was ‘promise.’ There was a ceremony back in the Denver estate. That’s where that damned Director Tenzen picked me up.”
But Daphne didn’t seem interested in the details. Misha, seeing her bangs flop up and stay in place, chuckled reluctantly.
“Do you know who gave you your current names—Kisha and Misha?”
Her laughter stopped abruptly. Wiping the corners of her eyes with the back of her finger, she asked:
“All I know is it came from some anonymous sponsor. Based on the timing, it happened right after Kisha came back from the imperial tournament. But, well, thanks to ‘the villa incident,’ all the records burned up.”
“What a shame. Do you know what the names mean? It’s not like they’re from a cosmetics brand or something.”
Misha shot her a glance before looking out the window.
In the garden, Celestian and Kisha were sparring with wooden swords.
He recalled the one and only letter he’d ever received from their sponsor. The neatly written note promised to support any dreams they had, wishing them a happy life where they lived for themselves.
The letter bore no seal or scent. It had come without a trace of identity.
“I heard my name means ‘I miss you.’”
Misha scratched his cheek. When he had first been given his name as a child, and when Daphne had first asked him his name, he had been reluctant to answer. He was embarrassed.
“It’s a bit romantic, but you’ve never met your sponsor, right?”
“Of course, it wasn’t meant for me.”
Daphne didn’t think much of it.
She rose slowly and leaned against the window, gazing at the shimmering reflections on the glass that sparkled like tiny shards. Beyond them, Celestian stood radiant, his figure outlined by the garden’s glow.
“I think I like that man a little.”
Daphne murmured, recalling the firm embrace that had once held her so tightly she couldn’t escape. Misha, standing nearby, lowered his gaze.
“But, my lady, Grand Duke Theriosa…”
Misha hesitated, unsure of what to say next.
“He certainly seems to be kind to you. He seems to have tried to help you many times, but that guy is Denver… ….”
Misha still felt grateful to the man for handling Count Baldwin on their behalf.
But before that, wasn’t he the one who, after having a private conversation with Psyche while Daphne lay wounded in the hospital, immediately began preparing to leave?
When Misha finally looked up after staring at the ground, he found Daphne standing before him with an expressionless face.
Realizing too late that he’d said something he shouldn’t have, Misha felt a chill run down his spine.
