Linia Took in a Child - Chapter 1: The Child (2)

That evening, Linia left the room where the child now slept soundly and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. The warm glow of the setting sun poured through a small window, casting soft light over the room.

“What about the child?” Sophie asked as Linia took a seat at the kitchen table.

“He’s sleeping in my room,” Linia replied.

“You didn’t have to give up your room for him. He could have stayed in mine,” Sophie said, a trace of dissatisfaction in her tone.

“More importantly, could you tell us exactly what happened?” Bessie, who had been quietly sipping tea, finally spoke. At this, both Linia and Sophie fell into thoughtful silence, as though reflecting on the day’s events. Linia was the first to respond.

“His clothes were soaked in blood. And… the first thing he said to me was, ‘Save me.’”

“He asked you to save him?” Sophie repeated, her voice rising in surprise. Linia nodded slightly and continued.

“I tried asking him what happened, but he wouldn’t say a word. He didn’t seem to know anything about himself—not his name, age, or parents.”

“That’s strange…” Sophie muttered, her brow furrowed. “If he’s been through something so terrifying that he’s begging for help, wouldn’t he be more… distressed? But he seemed far too calm.”

Having been the one to assist the child during his bath, Sophie had secretly observed his behavior. The bloodstained adult clothes he wore made her suspicious from the start.

From what she remembered, the boy had calmly looked around the room, his eyes scanning everything with a composure unbefitting his situation. It made her wonder if he had simply picked up bloodied clothes somewhere and was pretending to be injured.

“He wouldn’t even take his clothes off in front of me,” Sophie added. “I had no choice but to leave the room. Normally, a child in his condition would be eager to show their wounds and ask for treatment.”

“He probably doesn’t trust us completely yet,” Linia suggested, her voice gentle.

“Even so, something feels off,” Sophie said firmly. “Are we sure he’s actually hurt?”

“…Yes, when the boy fell asleep earlier, I checked his shoulder. There was a wound,” Linia quietly replied, addressing Sophie’s lingering doubts. Her voice was soft, but her expression carried a trace of sadness as if just recalling the sight of the injury weighed on her heart.

She had first noticed the blood heavily staining the right shoulder of his clothes and decided to examine that area. Beneath the thin, fragile frame of his shoulder was a deep stab wound, carved as if by a blade.

Linia didn’t know the full story, but one thing was clear: the situation the boy had endured must have been horrific. She sat in contemplative silence for a moment before speaking again.

“This is just my guess, but… I think he might have lost most of his memories due to the trauma. Judging by the way he couldn’t answer any of my questions.”

“If that’s the case, then calling in an investigator would be pointless,” Bessie added with a sigh. “If the child doesn’t even remember his name, there’s no way they’d get anything useful out of him…”

The room grew quiet, a shared sense of helplessness settling among them.

“Perhaps,” Sophie murmured, though a part of her still felt unsettled. However, continuing to suspect a wounded child felt wrong, so she dropped the matter.

“I’d like to keep him here for a while,” Linia said, her voice filled with resolve. “At least until he feels safe. The child needs time to heal—not just his body, but his heart, too.”

“Once he feels more stable, he might start to remember things. And when that happens, I’m sure he’ll tell us what he can.”

“How could I go against your wishes, miss?” Bessie replied with a resigned shrug.

“And you’ve already given him your bed…” Sophie muttered with a hint of playful exasperation, though her tone lacked real annoyance. Linia chuckled softly at Sophie’s grumbling, finding it endearing.

“Thank you, both of you. Tomorrow, when Frederick stops by, I’ll ask him to bring some clothes for the boy. He’ll need shoes as well… And what else?” Linia mused aloud, already making plans.

*

As soon as the sun rose, Linia returned to her room. Knocking softly on the door to avoid startling the child, she opened it gently and stepped inside. The boy was sitting motionless on her bed, his dark eyes turning toward her as she approached.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked kindly.

The boy tilted his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers.

“Does anything hurt?” she continued, her tone warm and patient.

“…No,” he replied, his voice quiet and a bit hoarse, perhaps from sleep. His response was simple, but it lacked the edge of distrust he had carried before.

Linia smiled, her eyes softening as she took in the sight of his messy, disheveled hair. There was something endearing about how unkempt he looked.

“If you’re still sleepy, you can rest a little longer. Or, if you’d like, we can have breakfast together.”

“…….”

Edwin silently stared at the woman without responding. When he woke up that morning, the throbbing pain in his shoulder had completely vanished. When he removed his shirt to check, he saw that new flesh had formed over the wound where his shoulder had been pierced.

“Was this her doing?”

It had been the woman who stayed by his side until he fell asleep the previous night. If anyone had done something to his body, it had to be her. Lost in these thoughts, a small rumbling sound echoed from his stomach.

“Shall we go downstairs? I haven’t eaten yet either.”

The child, who had been staring blankly at Linia’s outstretched hand, finally moved his left arm. He placed his small hand into hers.

The two of them went downstairs together. The kitchen, filled with sunlight, had a warm and bustling atmosphere. Sophie was busy cooking potato stew, and Bessie sat at the dining table, knitting.

Linia seated the child and began setting the table. At the faint sound of her moving about, Bessie quickly spoke, as if she could clearly see what Linia was doing without turning her head.

“Please, just sit down. What if you hurt yourself again like last time?”

“I’ll just carry this one thing.”

Linia responded with a soft smile as she placed bowls of stew in front of the child and Bessie. When Sophie brought the remaining bowls, the meal officially began.

Steam rose from the warm stew. When the child scooped up a spoonful and moved to eat it right away, Linia gently held his hand.

“It’s hot, so you have to blow on it first.”

Still holding the child’s hand, Linia brought the spoon to her own lips, blowing on the stew to cool it down. Then she brought the spoon back to the child’s mouth. The child obediently ate, and Linia’s eyes curved gently with a soft smile.

“Do you want to try this too? It’s delicious.”

“….”

“That’s it, good job.”

“Young lady, stop fussing over the child and eat your own meal.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Sophie spoke up. The young lady, kind to everyone, had a habit of becoming even gentler to those who seemed vulnerable and in need of protection. Sophie wanted to scold her, wondering why someone unwell herself was taking care of others, but she stopped pressing her lips together in a slight pout, holding back the words.

Just then, the sound of knocking came from outside.

“It seems like Frederick is here. I’ll go check.”

Bessie pulled out a crinkled piece of paper she had tucked into her pocket. Despite her blindness, Bessie moved with ease, as if she could see the layout of the house as clearly as anyone else.

While she was outside, Linia turned her attention to the child. Startled by the unexpected visitor, the child had stopped eating and was frozen, staring at the door.

“You don’t have to worry. The person outside is just a courier. He’s someone who brings us what we need from the nearby village.”

Linia explained that he wouldn’t be coming into the house, but the child still didn’t seem reassured. Seeing the child so tense tugged at her heart. Linia gently took his hand and led him to the window.

Outside, Bessie was handing Frederick the list of supplies they needed. After exchanging a few words, Frederick gave her a polite farewell and turned to leave.

It was only when the courier’s figure disappeared into the distance that the child’s small shoulders finally relaxed.

“Shall we get back to eating?”

Linia smiled warmly at him and gave his hand a gentle tug. The child nodded silently and returned to the table on his own to resume his meal.

*

They decided to give the child the guest room. The room had been unused for so long that it had become more of a storage space. Cleaning it out took Linia and Sophie half the day. If Sophie had done it alone, it would have taken twice as long, but Linia insisted on helping, which made the task go by much faster.

After dinner, Linia brought the child upstairs to the freshly cleaned room. The window was wide open, allowing the soft hues of the sunset to seep into the space. The room, with just a few pieces of furniture and a bed, felt a little bare.

“I’m sorry. It’s pretty empty, isn’t it?”

As Linia spoke, she put the five sets of clothes Frederick had brought into the wardrobe. The child sat quietly on the edge of the bed, his small figure looking even smaller in the sparse room.

“I like it.”

At his quiet voice, Linia responded with a delighted smile, “Do you?”

“If you need anything, just let me know, okay? Do you know how to read?”

The child shook his head twice.

“In that case, I’ll ask Frederick to bring some picture books with illustrations. And maybe some cute stuffed animals—wouldn’t that be nice?”

Linia smiled warmly and slowly looked around the room, imagining how she might decorate it to make it more inviting for the child. Just as she was lost in thought, the child spoke again.

“Did you see the wound on your shoulder?”

Linia turned to face him slowly. With the sunset behind him, the child’s face was shrouded in shadow. She couldn’t make out his expression clearly, but there was an edge to his voice that she couldn’t miss.

“I’m sorry for looking without your permission. I just thought if it was serious, it needed to be treated quickly.”

She apologized sincerely. The child said nothing more, but there was a faint sense of mistrust in his demeanor.

Given how quickly the wound had healed, it wasn’t surprising for him to be suspicious. Linia approached him and crouched down so they were at eye level. She asked softly, meeting his gaze.

“Can I check if there are any other injuries?”

The child didn’t respond right away. After a long pause, he slowly rolled up the hem of his pants with his small hands.

His calves were covered in old scars—deep, jagged marks that looked like they’d been burned into his skin with a hot iron.

It was clear the child had suffered long-term abuse. Who could have inflicted such cruelty on someone so vulnerable? Linia’s heart ached as she gently ran her fingers over the scars, her touch tender and cautious.

As Edwin flinched slightly at her touch, a soft glow began to radiate from Linia’s fingertips.

“It’s okay.”

When the child instinctively pulled his leg back, Linia assumed it was out of fear. To avoid startling him further, she softened her touch even more, her hands moving with gentle care.

“I’m just trying to help you heal. It won’t take long, so bear with me for a little while.”

The light seeped into his skin, and after a moment, the mottled scars began to fade.

When Linia finally withdrew her hand, Edwin looked down at his leg. The scars, which he had thought would remain forever, had completely disappeared. As he stared in disbelief, Linia reached out again.

“I wish I had met you sooner.”

Her warm hand cupped his cheek. Edwin’s gaze shifted from his leg to her face. The pale complexion of her cheeks, framed by strands of soft, light blonde hair, seemed even paler in the fading sunlight.

“Then I could’ve helped you heal earlier.”

She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering these scars represented. Her heart twisted at the thought, and though her expression wavered with sorrow, she forced herself to smile gently.

“If there’s ever anything else that hurts, tell me, okay?”

She brushed his cheek lightly with her hand, her voice soft and full of kindness. Her smile was delicate as if it might crumble at any moment.

“And if you still can’t remember your name, would it be okay if I gave you a new one? Just until you can recall it.”

The child, who had been staring intently at her fragile smile, lowered his head at last. His slow nod was faint but deliberate.

Edwin stood by the window, looking down at the scene below. In front of the mansion, the man named Frederick was handing over the supplies he had brought.

Shifting his gaze away from Frederick, Edwin scanned his surroundings. All he could see was the dense forest encircling the estate, but he was constantly on the lookout for any eyes that might be watching this place.

Eventually, Frederick climbed onto the cart and hitched to his horse. A few minutes after he departed, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Ruin.”

At the voice, Edwin turned around. At that moment, he wasn’t Edwin anymore—he became Ruin, his innocent face now directed at Linia.

“Were you bored being by yourself?”

“A little.”

“Frederick brought some new picture books. How about I read one to you? Come sit here.”

Linia sat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to her. Ruin naturally slid into the seat beside her. He swung his legs idly, already looking disinterested at the book’s title.

“The Princess Who Became a Frog.”

Reading the title aloud, Linia opened the book. Her voice, lively and animated, betrayed her own excitement as if she were the one who had been looking forward to this story. Ruin, on the other hand, cast a bored glance at the book, his eyes trailing across the illustrations on the page before landing elsewhere.

“Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a princess with hair as blue as the sky,” she began.

Her voice rang pleasantly as she turned the pages, but his attention wasn’t on the story. Instead, his gaze fixated on her slender fingers, delicately tracing the edges of the pages. Without warning, a memory surfaced—her pale fingertips brushing gently over his scars. He also recalled the strange, tingling sensation that had crawled up his spine at the time.

“At the castle, a grand ball was held. Everyone celebrated the princess’s birthday with joy. But then, an uninvited guest appeared—a wicked witch,” she continued, her voice weaving through the story.

A wound like his—a shoulder injury severe enough to take at least a month to heal—had been cured in a single day. The only people capable of such a feat, as far as he knew, were the saintesses of the Empire.

Why someone like her was living in seclusion in this forest remained a mystery. But one thing was clear to Ruin: she was extraordinary, and he wanted her for himself.

Originally, his plan had been simple. The moment his shoulder healed, he would erase all traces of his presence and disappear. He had intended to stage the deaths of everyone in the mansion and Frederick as accidents. But now, looking at the woman before him, he found himself hesitating.

She was too valuable to kill.