TRHLV | CH 06

Chapter 6: The Way Back

The girl disappeared from the duke’s mansion like a breeze brushing past a pillar.

“She’s gone,” Charon thought.

That was all he felt.

At least until that afternoon.

* * *

“What do you mean, home? I told you to send her to the orphanage.”

He had already chosen a nearby orphanage with a good reputation—not in Blansé but not too far—and had even contacted them in advance.

“I… I’m sorry, Your Grace. There must have been some mistake along the way. We did tell the child she was ‘going home,’ but the coachman had the address you gave. She should’ve arrived at the orphanage safely.”

“You told her she was going home?”

He remembered the girl crying out desperately from the carriage.

‘So that’s why she was begging for help.’

He hadn’t even stopped to think why she was screaming like that. He was too afraid of feeling sorry for her—so he turned away.

‘She must hate me so much now.’

But it was over. As long as she arrived at the orphanage safely, she’d realize it wasn’t her old house and probably feel relieved.

‘As long as she arrives safely…’

To calm his uneasy heart, Charon got on his horse.

He didn’t desire much, didn’t enjoy anything, didn’t get excited easily. He didn’t even understand pleasure. A boring man, some might say. Riding was his only form of relief. He didn’t like people, didn’t like having goals—just horses, scenery, and the wind. That was enough for him.

‘Your Grace…’

But a voice kept echoing in his head.

“Please save me, Your Grace!”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Save her? He never sent her into danger.

…In fact, he was the one who wanted to beg her to save him.

* * *

As Charon returned slowly to the mansion, he saw a carriage parked out front. The coachman and butler were talking seriously.

It was the same carriage that had taken Elika away. But it had returned too early.

“What happened?”

“Ah, sir, well…”

The coachman bowed deeply, flustered, and the butler hesitated before speaking.

“The child disappeared on the way to the orphanage.”

Charon jumped back onto his horse and raced out.

The coachman had stopped the carriage to relieve himself, and when he opened the door again, Elika was gone.

“She vanished in the middle of the road? Why would she do something so dangerous…”

Did she choose to be lost in a strange place rather than get hit by her father again?

If he lost her now, he’d have no way of stopping her later.

Too close, and she hurt him. Too far, and he worried.

‘Damn it.’

What a cursed connection they had.

* * *

By the time Elika reached the edge of the forest, she was nearly losing her mind.

‘If I stay in that carriage, I’ll die… I should jump out.’

She looked outside through the carriage window. The rushing scenery was scary, but her decision didn’t take long.

She knew how to curl her body to avoid hitting her head.

At a spot with thick bushes that looked softer, she rolled out of the moving carriage.

Her body was scratched and bruised, but she was okay. Her right ankle hurt when she walked—maybe she sprained it.

‘Still… I’m alive.’

She limped in the opposite direction of the carriage. Whenever she saw a wagon or carriage, she hid in the bushes or behind trees, afraid someone might be looking for her. Only when the path was clear would she come out and walk again.

‘I escaped, but where do I go now?’

She couldn’t return to the duke’s mansion—her father might be waiting.

Then she remembered a traveler once saying that freesia flowers bloom in the southern fields during spring.

Sometimes, travelers stayed in the forest huts. They were the only source of outside stories Elika had.

‘I’ll go south!’

They say fools are brave—and she was. With a goal in mind, she dragged her aching foot and walked.

* * *

‘Why isn’t this forest ending?’

She knew she walked slower than a horse-drawn carriage. But she didn’t know she had taken a wrong path.

The sun started to set, and the forest would soon be filled with wild animals.

‘I’ll climb a tree and stay up there until morning.’

Her ankle was injured, so climbing would be hard, but she had no choice.

“Hngh…”

When she tried to lift her foot onto the trunk, a sharp pain shot through her swollen ankle. But she gritted her teeth and climbed.

Just as she reached a good branch, she made a mistake. She put weight on her injured foot.

“Ahh!”

Her small body fell straight down.

But just before she hit the ground—someone caught her.

“Are you okay?”

A man with messy hair and sweat on his forehead. It was the duke.

She stared at him, blinking like she couldn’t believe it.

Charon gently set her down by the tree.

“Why are you here, Your Grace?”

“Just passing by,” he answered casually, wiping his sweat.

The coachman had said she disappeared into the forest. Luckily, he found her in time and ran over when he saw her climbing a tree with a swollen ankle.

“Where were you going?”

She asked innocently. Instead of answering, he looked at her ankle. Embarrassed, Elika moved her foot under her dress.

‘She tried to climb with that ankle? And night is falling…’

He had to get her out of here.

He turned around and knelt down in front of her.

“Get on my back.”

“…?”

Elika hesitated. Could she really ride on his back?

But Charon’s legs were already starting to go numb from waiting.

“Hurry.”

At his command, she quietly climbed onto his back.

He lifted her up, supporting her legs. Again, he was shocked at how light she was—just skin and bones.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

Instead of saying thank you, she apologized.

He didn’t ask why. He already knew.

She was a child who had more reasons to apologize than to be thankful.

He wanted to say something… but ended up saying nothing at all.

* * *

In the bumpy carriage, the girl had fallen asleep.

Her ankle was bandaged, and she was wrapped in a blanket.

Charon stared at her and let out a deep sigh.

They arrived at the mansion around sunset. Charon carried the sleeping girl out of the carriage.

The Duchess and Head Maid were waiting at the entrance.

“You’re the one who sent her away, and now you bring her back all dramatically? What are you thinking?”

“I’m sorry.”

‘It would’ve been nice if he made some excuse. He’s so stiff,’ the old lady thought, sighing inside.

She signaled to the maids, who gently took Elika from him.

“Come. Let’s talk.”

* * *

“Why don’t you sponsor Elika?” the old lady asked once they were in the sitting room.

“Sponsor her?”

Charon blinked at the unexpected suggestion.

“Yes. For the ‘Carlisle Empire Talent Program.’”

Charon knew what that was.

It was an imperial program to train talented commoners, strengthen ties with nobles, and promote peace.

Each noble house picked a talented commoner, educated them, and then recommended them to the royal court. If that person got chosen, the house gained favor and influence.

It was popular among mid-level noble families, but the Blansé family had long stopped participating.

“Haven’t we withdrawn from that program long ago?”

“Then it’s time to rejoin. We should at least pretend to support the Emperor’s efforts.”

“Even so… why Elika?”

He couldn’t understand why his grandmother wanted to support Elika.

No—more than that, he felt uneasy. Educating someone who might become a villain was dangerous.

“Elika doesn’t even know how to read yet. Teaching her will take more time. If we must support someone, we should pick a child who already knows the basics…”

“Jacqueline.”

At the old lady’s signal, the Head Maid handed Charon a notebook.

He opened it with a puzzled look.

“This looks like a list of chores.”

“Elika wrote it.”

“…What?”

He remembered she was completely illiterate just a few days ago. Then he remembered the training manual the maids used.

“She must’ve copied it to practice writing…”

“Do you really think it’s just copying? Look again.”

Now he noticed the spelling mistakes. They weren’t in the original manual.

At first, he thought she made errors while copying, but the same mistakes appeared consistently throughout the notebook.

Like writing ‘laundry’ as ‘laundray’ or ‘bedtime’ as ‘bedtim’.

Yet the content matched exactly.

Charon’s eyes widened.

“She wrote this from memory…”

Jacqueline nodded.

“She memorized all 100 pages and wrote it from memory.”

The old lady smiled.

“Charon, that girl is a genius.”