“Ugh, this awful weather. How much longer is it going to keep raining? It feels like my shoes are damp every single day. I’m miserable.”

In the spacious courtyard, a young novice nun was sweeping the ground in the rain.

The work was unbearably dull, and with the cold drizzle and wind constantly sneaking into her sleeves, even a young nun who had spent years cultivating inner calm could not help complaining to her companion.

“Seriously, yes.”

Another young nun nodded repeatedly, pulling a miserable face.

“I swear something in my room has started molding. There’s been this weird smell for days, but I still can’t figure out where it’s coming from. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Eww... don’t tell me you’re the one getting moldy. Gross. Are you about to start sprouting mushrooms?”

“Hmph. If I start growing mushrooms, I’ll stuff them into your mouth first!”

“I’m not eating your mushrooms. Bleh.”

“You’ll eat them whether you want to or not. Take this!”

The girls tumbled into a playful scuffle, their bright bell-like laughter echoing through the little courtyard and adding a different kind of color to the cold rainy day.

Then it was cut short.

“Ahem!”

“Mother!”

The girls all jerked in fright. When they discovered an elderly nun standing not far away—who knew how long she had been there—they instantly fell silent and huddled together, necks drawn in like a flock of startled little quail.

“So you still have time to fool around here?”

The old nun glared at them. Though her aged face was full of wrinkles, her authority had not diminished in the slightest.

“Is your work finished?”

“J-just a little left... It’s raining today, so we’ve been a little slow...”

“Then finish that ‘little’ right away! Today is important. It concerns the future development of this orphanage. ‘It’s raining today’ is not an excuse you get to use!”

“Yes, Mother!”

The little nuns scattered in a panic and rushed back to their posts. Two of the clumsier ones, unable to figure out which direction to go, even crashed into each other headfirst and ended up with matching swollen bumps on their foreheads.

Even so, under the old nun’s severe gaze, they did not dare linger. Fighting back tears, they could only keep cleaning the courtyard miserably.

“Honestly...”

The old nun shook her head helplessly.

She had clearly written to the Church asking for more staff, hoping for capable help. Instead, the Church had sent over a handful of novice nuns who had only just entered the order, grandly calling it “training.”

What help could chicks like these possibly be? They were slower at work than the children themselves and only added a few more mouths to feed.

“Work properly. When I come back in a little while, I’d better not see a single fallen leaf left here. If I do...”

The old nun swept the courtyard with a commanding gaze.

“Tomorrow I’ll plant every one of you in the ground like mushrooms!”

“Wah... no... that’s scary...”

“I don’t want that either. I don’t want to become a mushroom...”

“If I absolutely have to be planted in the dirt, I’d rather become a beautiful flower...”

“Me too, me too... I like sunflowers. Too bad rainy days don’t really suit sunflowers...”

“...”

The courtyard was full of exaggerated wails, the chattering still nonstop. The old nun pressed a hand to her forehead, truly unwilling to waste any more energy arguing with these little birds.

Taking a deep breath and calming herself, she crossed the yard—where the standing water had already been cleared away so it was no longer quite so muddy—and made her way to the front gate.

Several of the older nuns who had been here longer were already waiting there.

“Has he arrived?”

“He has.”

“Are we certain he’s really here to sponsor the orphanage?”

“We’re certain.”

“And his background?”

“We looked into him. He really is a well-known philanthropist. He’s funded quite a few orphanages and welfare homes. But usually he operates within the Empire, so we don’t know why he’s come to the Kingdom this time.”

“He’s not some Imperial spy, is he?”

“What would an Imperial spy come to a shabby place like this for? There’s no vital intelligence here worth currying favor with using actual gold.”

“That’s true enough. We’re only an ordinary orphanage.”

The old nun nodded and peered through the crack in the gate. There, in the middle of the street, beside a black carriage, stood a man in a fitted formal suit, leaning under an umbrella.

He looked very young—elegant, poised, and extraordinary in bearing, rather like some idle young aristocrat the old nun had once seen before.

But on closer inspection, that deep-set face, marked with pronounced Slavic features, held none of the impatience or arrogance such a wastrel ought to have.

He had clearly been waiting there for some time, yet he remained steady and patient, showing not the slightest sign of displeasure.

“All right. Make ready.”

The old nun clapped her hands.

“Since he has come to do good, then we should naturally receive him with the highest standard of hospitality. Whether or not he ends up supporting us, we must at least let him feel our warmth.”

“Yes.”

The other nuns answered and quickly dispersed to handle the tasks assigned to them.

Only the old nun remained behind. She drew in another deep breath, and on her aged face—which had been stern for far too long—a rare smile appeared.

“My apologies, honored sir...”

The old nun pushed the gate open and went to greet the man by the carriage.

“The grounds were a bit untidy, and cleaning took some time. I’m terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“No, it wasn’t long at all.”

The man—Muen—lightly removed his hat in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Headmistress.”

“Good afternoon, sir.”

The old nun clasped her hands together and returned the greeting with Church etiquette.

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir.’ My age... hardly qualifies as ‘old.’” Muen smiled.

“Then I...”

“Just call me Bruce. A rich young man from a family with a little money. Bruce.”

“Then... Mister Bruce.”

The old nun remained as formal as ever and said seriously, “Then I shall call you Mister Bruce.”

“...Very well. It’s only a form of address, after all.”

Muen sighed helplessly. He knew correcting her would be difficult, so he could only accept the respectful title from the old nun, who looked old enough to be his grandmother.

“May I go in and have a look first?” Muen asked, glancing up at the worn sign overhead.

Sunshine Orphanage.

The most common orphanage name Muen had ever seen.

And from the outside, this orphanage looked no different from every other place called “Sunshine”—dilapidated, old, steeped in time, and yet still full of a certain vitality.

“Of course. Please.”

The old nun was a beat slow to react, only now realizing that leaving a distinguished guest standing outside like this was indeed rather inappropriate. She hurriedly turned and led Muen through the gate.

Inside was a broad courtyard.

The grass was patchy and ragged, and over half of it had been turned into farmland. It happened to be just after the harvest season, so all that remained in the fields were dry stalks that had not yet been burned down for fertilizer.

Even so, beneath a crooked tree in one corner stood a few scattered pieces of playground equipment.

Creak. Creak.

The swing beneath the tree rocked in the wind, and Muen’s gaze moved back and forth with it, as though it had drawn him into some old memory. A faint smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

“Mister Bruce... did it remind you of something pleasant?”

The old nun glanced sideways at him. Suddenly she felt that the gentle smile on this young philanthropist’s lips did not quite match his slightly cold features.

But exactly how it did not match, she could not really say.

“It’s nothing. It just reminded me of the first orphanage I ever donated to—the most important one in my life. It had a big yard too, and a very small swing.” Muen gave a faint laugh and shook his head.

“I see.”

The old nun sighed with feeling. “For it to leave such an impression on you, and for you to have supported it as well, that orphanage must have been terribly poor and destitute. How pitiful. But to have met such a kindhearted man as you, that too was...”

“No, I’m a little ashamed to say it.”

Scratching his cheek, Muen said awkwardly,

“The truth is, when I went to support that orphanage, it wasn’t because of any kind heart.”

“Oh? Then what was it for?”

“It was for...” Muen straightened his back. “Chasing a girl.”

“...What?”

The old nun looked slightly disoriented, as though she had heard him wrong.

“Chasing a girl—or to be more precise, for the sake of the person I loved.”

Muen spread his hands.

“I have to admit it: my motives back then were not pure. I even stepped into the most vulnerable part of her life without her permission. That was low enough to be called despicable.

“But I had no choice. By then, how could I possibly let the person most important to me leave me? Of course I had to think of every possible way to catch up to her... so I went. Without hesitation.”

“I-is that so?” the old nun said, a little dazed. Just moments ago this had been a solemn scene about doing good, and suddenly it had veered into the romantic pursuit tactics of a playboy.

“Disappointed in me?”

“No.”

The old nun smoothed back a strand of silver-white hair, regained her composure, and immediately shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s despicable at all. Truly pure things are rare in this world to begin with. Even among all those ‘greatly benevolent people’ who speak endlessly of compassion and righteousness, how many are really acting out of pure kindness? On the contrary, the fact that you can be so frank about it is actually a relief.”

“So you’re no longer afraid I’m an Imperial spy?” Muen asked meaningfully.

“Ahem.”

Realizing that this man had apparently overheard their earlier conversation, the old nun coughed twice and said with great seriousness,

“I am, after all, a nun of the Church, and the Church never involves itself in disputes between nations. So whether you are from the Empire or the Kingdom is not something I care about.”

“You don’t care about any Imperial at all?”

“Except for that damned Muen Campbell from the Empire!”

The old nun clenched her fist in indignation.

“A scoundrel and lecher like that, tricking ignorant young girls, ought to be chopped into pieces with a cleaver!”

“Headmistress, you’re quite the character,” Muen said, his cheek twitching as he forced a smile.

“And you are no less so, Mister Bruce,” the old nun replied with a smile of her own, assuming he meant something else entirely.

Past the courtyard, the layout of the orphanage behind it differed greatly from the one in Muen’s memory. The architectural style of the Kingdom was completely different from that of the Empire, yet here, too, there were very few extra decorations. Everything looked plain and modest.

And yet some of the details here were exactly the same as in that building in Muen’s memory, the one that had gradually been swallowed by fire.

This was the place...

Muen lifted his head and saw, in the distance, the grand circular dome of a church.

“What is it, Lord Bruce?”

“Nothing. Let’s keep going.”

For the moment, Muen pushed those thoughts aside. He followed the old nun onward, chatting with her as they walked, the conversation flowing warmly.

Through her words, he came to ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ know every detail of this place. And from Muen’s own words, the old nun gradually became certain of the sincerity behind his donation.

So it was in the middle of this remarkably peaceful atmosphere that Muen knocked lightly on a nearby wall already lined with several cracks and casually asked,

“By the way, Headmistress, you said you’re a nun of the Church. Then this orphanage... should be supported by the Church as well, shouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

The old nun naturally had no reason to hide something so minor.

“This orphanage was built with Church funding.”

“Then that’s strange. If this place is backed by something as enormous as the Church, why is it that...”

Recalling everything he had seen on the way here, Muen fixed his eyes on the old nun’s face.

“...this place is struggling so badly?”