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chapter 04
“Keep your voice down. It’s a good thing Master is at the palace handling official business right now.”
Another servant glanced nervously around the corridor before Becky answered in a low, irritated voice, her words heavy with suppressed resentment.
“Listen, I grew up getting beaten by my father too. We should be grateful we were born into respectable families and don’t have to spend our lives scrubbing floors like this.”
Her grip tightened around the rag in her hand as she spoke. The servant beside her simply sighed and shook her head.
“…Yeah. Let’s just finish cleaning.”
Someone else heard every word.
A child with a beautiful face twisted into an expression overflowing with rage, his tiny fists clenched so tightly they trembled.
It was Vincent Rogato.
Being the subject of their conversation was far from pleasant.
Burning with anger, Vincent was about to storm out when his legs froze. His crimson eyes darted around the hallway, searching for a certain child.
That little girl with blazing red hair tied into twin tails had refused to leave his thoughts for over a week.
<If you do bad things, I’ll punish you.>
Those words echoed endlessly in his mind.
Even stranger, every time he remembered her, his heart pounded uncontrollably, his face grew hot, and sweat gathered on his palms. The moment he’d awakened after that day, he’d questioned everyone he could, desperately searching for her identity.
But she had vanished like smoke.
Perhaps that was why…
Why this suffocating feeling refused to go away.
Even as seven-year-old Vincent stood there with a solemn expression, one hand pressed over his racing heart, the servants continued talking.
“By the way, did they catch that kid?”
“Which one?”
“The one who knocked Young Master unconscious.”
The moment the topic changed, Vincent’s heartbeat accelerated even faster. Without realizing it, he leaned toward them so he could hear every word.
“No one got a proper look at the kid’s face. How are they supposed to catch them?”
“Well… the Duke doesn’t seem all that interested either. They’ll probably just pretend to search for a while and then forget about it.”
Vincent’s mouth fell open.
He had clearly seen her face. He had described her in detail. They had even told him they were conducting a thorough search!
Children believed adults far more easily than adults realized.
Adults never understood just how deeply those lies could wound them.
Shocked, Vincent immediately sprinted back to his room. He locked the door behind him, then pressed an ear against it, listening carefully until he was sure no one was walking through the hallway.
His father, who had lied about searching.
The maids, who knew the truth and kept silent.
He hated them all.
“They’re all liars.”
“There isn’t a single person I can trust.”
Once he confirmed no one was outside, he flung open his wardrobe.
Inside sat a small backpack.
Without hesitation, Vincent grabbed it and walked toward the window.
It was the emergency pack he’d prepared every time his father beat him and he dreamed of escaping the mansion.
Before opening the window, he firmly secured the backpack over his shoulders and puffed out his cheeks, steeling his resolve.
Then the straps pressed against fresh bruises.
“Urgh!”
The wounds were from the night before.
His personal maid had applied ointment, but of course they hadn’t healed overnight.
His father often spoke proudly about the glory of House Rogato.
For generations, every member of the family had inherited brown hair.
Vincent, however, possessed ash-gray hair—a perfect copy of his mother’s.
And that alone seemed enough to provoke the Duke’s fury.
<You disgraceful brat!>
Just last night, drunk on wine, the Duke had summoned him late into the evening, rambled endlessly about the family’s glorious history…
Then kicked Vincent without warning.
Unable to breathe, Vincent had collapsed to the floor, coughing desperately.
The Duke of Rogato had looked down at him with complete indifference.
Three years had passed since the Duchess fled.
Since then, the Duke’s delusion—that Vincent was the child she’d conceived through infidelity—had gradually become accepted as unquestionable fact.
Remembering the previous night only strengthened Vincent’s determination.
With firm steps, he walked toward the open window.
Behind his resolute expression lingered a sorrow far too heavy for a seven-year-old.
“The real bad people… are the ones who live in this house.”
“Not me.”
The first time Vincent had ever gone outside without a maid trailing behind him.
For a seven-year-old, venturing into the city without an adult wasn’t just an outing.
It was a grand adventure.
Where should he look to find that girl?
After much deliberation, Vincent decided to return to the place where they’d first met.
He had been there several times before, so he could make the trip without anyone guiding him.
That’s right.
I can do this by myself.
But when he arrived…
There wasn’t a single trace left.
Even the broken wall that had once stood there had already been demolished and cleared away.
The ground was spotless.
Vincent looked around in confusion.
No adult spared even a glance for the lost-looking little boy.
After only a brief moment of panic, he gathered himself.
He hadn’t intended to ask an adult for help in the first place.
“She disappeared all of a sudden.”
“She definitely ran into one of the alleys.”
It seemed like perfectly logical reasoning to him.
Feeling rather proud of all the studying he’d done, Vincent confidently headed toward the nearest alley.
Until now, he’d only ever walked along wide, sunlit streets.
He had no idea the alleys were so different.
The sunlight barely reached them.
Everything was dim.
There was a strange smell in the air.
And the twisting pathways formed a maze where every turn looked the same.
“Hm…”
“Did I already walk through here?”
He stared at the ground while muttering to himself.
If he didn’t keep talking, he felt like he might collapse from anxiety.
“I’m sure I’ve seen that mark before…”
Looking closer, though…
Every mark looked almost identical.
Completely unaware that he was hopelessly lost, Vincent kept walking while studying nothing but the patterns beneath his feet.
Then…
A dark shadow fell across him.
Startled by the sudden darkness, Vincent looked up.
Three boys, all appearing to be in their late teens, blocked the narrow alley with smug grins.
“Hey, shrimp.”
“Mind showing us what’s in that bag?”
“You know there’s a toll for passing through here.”
The apparent leader slowly examined Vincent from head to toe.
Glossy hair.
Fair, flawless skin.
Soft hands that had clearly never performed a day of labor.
To boys who barely scraped together enough money to survive each day…
Vincent looked like the perfect prey.
A noble child.
Completely alone.
No adults nearby.
Didn’t matter which family he belonged to.
Today was their lucky day.
Jackpot.
That backpack has to be full of expensive jewels.
Rich little nobles always think the same way when they run away from home.
“What do you want?”
Aside from his father, Vincent had never known anyone who treated him violently.
These ragged street boys didn’t frighten him in the slightest.
He proudly lifted his chin.
The gang leader burst into laughter.
“Boys.”
“Grab him.”
The two boys beside him immediately obeyed.
Each seized one of Vincent’s arms.
“What—!”
His eyes widened.
He struggled desperately to pull free, but there was no way a seven-year-old could overpower teenagers nearly grown into adults.
“L-Let go!”
“Do you even know who I am?!”
“Sure.”
The leader casually untied Vincent’s carefully fastened backpack.
“I know exactly what you are.”
“A brat whose only claim to importance is the family name behind him.”
The mocking words froze Vincent in place.
“What?”
“Did that hit a nerve? You nobles are all the same. Completely useless—”
Still smirking, the leader reached into the backpack.
Then…
His expression stiffened.
“…What is this?”
At that exact moment—
Whoooosh!
A fierce gust of wind suddenly tore through the alley.
Everyone—including Vincent—staggered as the violent blast swept over them.
The boys’ grip loosened.
Vincent’s arms slipped free.
“Gah! What the—?!”
“Where’d this wind come from?!”
As the gale slowly died down…
A small voice drifted from the direction the wind had come.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“If you do bad things… I’ll punish you.”
The voice was strangely familiar.
Flat.
Calm.
Almost completely devoid of emotion.
Standing there with one tiny fist raised was Adel.
Her sharp eyes calmly swept over the people before her.
Four opponents.
…No.
Three.
Vincent didn’t count.
Looking at the boys—each much larger than herself—Adel quietly tightened her fist.
Just then, terrified that he might once again become the target of that terrifying punch, Vincent shouted at the top of his lungs,
“This time, I’m not the one who did the bad thing!”
Adel looked at him and gave a small nod.
“I know.”
Her calm reply filled Vincent with relief.
For a moment, he’d thought something frightening was about to happen to him again.
The boys who had been bullying him moments earlier, however, were trembling.
Summoning what little courage he had left, the leader stepped forward and hurriedly explained,
“There were only a pillow and a blanket in the bag!”
“There wasn’t even anything worth stealing!”
Adel stared at him expressionlessly.
“So…”
“You were trying to steal it.”
