TVSP 15🍂

Chapter 15

“My lady, you said I was wealthy, powerful, and well educated. And you’re right. That’s why I believe—if these people are ever to live lives more human than this—this place must be remade from the ground up.”

The noisy square fell silent. The priests who had come to serve, the destitute who had gathered, all turned their ears toward my voice.

“Is the problem that you have no homes? Then I’ll give you housing. Is the problem that you have no work? Then I’ll arrange employment for you. Of course… none of this alone will solve everything.”

Even if one rebuilt houses and handed out jobs, the lives of these people would not change much. The most fundamental thing was still untouched.

“So I decided to build a school here.”

The words—fruits of three weeks persuading, coaxing, and wrangling with the duke—fell from my lips, and Milla looked as though the breath had been stolen from her.

“What?”

Even Wendy was gaping, until I signaled for her to compose herself; she quickly corrected her expression.

“I’ve already secured imperial permission. The Apferdita ducal house will cover the construction costs. As citizens of the Empire, regardless of status, you will be able to study and graduate properly in a real institution of learning.”

Support and investments had trickled into the slums before, but none had borne visible results. A roof over their heads, a day’s labor—those alone could not shatter the shackles of poverty.

Unless one saw with their own eyes that there was a wider world, unless one experienced it—life remained a rat’s wheel.

“I want you to see that wider world. And I believe education is the first step toward it.”

Change would take years, perhaps generations. But if the starting point could be shifted, then so too could the outcome.

“Education has the power to change people.”

Even before coming here, I had pleaded with the duke, endured his dismissals as nonsense, yet never backed down. Now my efforts stood revealed before all.

Kobs, the boy who led the pickpockets of the slums, was in an ill temper these days.

He had heard troubling news—that Milla, the only person who ever looked upon them with genuine warmth, might be denied the title of Saintess.

‘If not her, then who else could be the Saintess!’

The slum dwellers thought the same. The temple’s charity had always existed, but no one had ever truly cared for them. Milla’s kindness was like sunlight thawing their frozen hearts. They could not accept another in her place.

So they protested in their own way. They refused the food and blankets offered by the new candidate, showing instead that they stood with Milla.

‘Though… she is beautiful.’

Try as he might, Kobs could not ignore the new woman. Unlike any saintess before her, with her dark hair and dazzling beauty, she stood out like a jewel cast into ash.

‘Like some witch from a fairy tale.’

Yes—this was the woman tormenting their Saintess. A witch, nothing more.

‘She’s from a high noble house. No doubt she’s brimming with vanity. She’s trying to seize the temple, to torment our lady—that must be it.’

The idea that a highborn noble would truly care for them was absurd. The conclusion was inevitable, and all agreed.

But then—

“Not only a school, but I’ll build proper medical facilities. Until construction is finished, I’ve prepared temporary shelters. You need not worry.”

Despite mockery and rejection, she never lost her composure. She revealed results that no mere charity could accomplish.

Food, clothes, a roof—those they could scrape together. But medicine, education, safe homes? Such things could not be won by goodwill alone.

‘And she means to pay for it herself?’

“My wealth will surely aid in your rebuilding.”

A simple statement—yet it struck to the heart.

The commotion drew the Cardinal overseeing the district. He rushed here, heard her speech, and sighed.

“My lady, your heart is understood.”

He patted her words with sympathy, yet beneath them lay a verdict:

“But unless this whole quarter is razed at once, it will be impossible.”

It sounded like resignation—like he believed the slums could never change.

Grace answered at once, as though waiting for this.

“That is why I bought the entire district.”

The crowd gasped.

“How much money does she even have…” someone muttered, too loud in the sudden hush.

Grace hugged the blanket in her arms and smiled brilliantly.

“The most useless worry in the world is worrying about the rich.”

Even the Cardinal could not reply to that. For a fleeting instant his face seemed twisted in disapproval, but surely that was my imagination—he had always been kind.

Wealth had always been an object of envy. Yet confronted with such overwhelming wealth, one felt not jealousy, but awe.

The sun broke through and haloed her from behind. Strangely, in that moment she did not look like a witch at all. She looked like an angel.

Perhaps it was not her beauty, but her will, that shone.

So thought Kobs, as he took a hesitant step forward.

“Are you sure what you’ve promised can truly be done? It could all be a waste—of time, of money.”

It was the same reaction the duke had given me, so I did not take offense.

“Without trying, how can we declare it impossible? I won’t surrender so easily.”

“But still…”

“I want to uproot the despair embedded in these streets. That means everything must change. Even the mindset of the people here.”

I turned from Milla to face the gathered crowd.

“How long will you depend only on the charity of others? If fear keeps you unmoving, you will never change. You too are citizens of this Empire, born from the goddess’s breath, worthy of lives that shine!”

Until now, the slum folk had met me with mockery, contempt, and fear.

“Do not give up, no matter how hard it is. Find ways to shine on your own. Work, strive, and achieve results.”

Now, I saw none of that hatred. Only eyes lit by something new.

“Of course, escaping this pit will not be easy. So I will help, to make the way a little smoother.”

I smiled at the silent assembly.

“This is my service to you. My effort.”

There was no reply. Yet in their eyes flickered a different light—hope.

Hope: such a sweet word.

A boy stepped forward from the group of children.

“Can I… really go to school?”

He was young, yet his face was worn. His cap pulled low marked him as a pickpocket. But if children like him were given choices, I believed they could grow into something finer.

“Of course. As much as you want.”

I planted the seed of dream and hope in him.

“I’ve already founded a scholarship trust for you. Go to school, so that my bold actions will never seem in vain.”

The faces of several children brightened.

When the talk concluded, the officials I had summoned stepped forth.

“We will begin surveying the district.”

Builders and engineers pushed into the alleys with maps and tools.

The Cardinal excused himself, saying he would report to the temple.

“Could it be true?”

“What should we do…”

Murmurs rippled—astonished, uncertain, yet colored by admiration.

Hope: such a sweet word.

Even if hardships came, they would not forget this moment. The taste of hope lingered on their tongues.

And strangely, seeing them drenched in it, my three weeks of struggle suddenly felt worth every effort.