Chapter 3
The next day.
Benedict kept rubbing his cheek, bothered by a strange ticklish sensation, until his father told him to stop.
Of course, Benedict didn’t like that he kept doing it either, so he decided to shake off this weird feeling as soon as possible.
To do that, he figured he needed to warn Lucien about what happened yesterday.
He had to tell her that kissing a gentleman was not appropriate.
Suppressing the painful thumping in his chest — which he claimed was a hereditary condition — he made his way to the backyard.
But the moment he spotted Lucien alone under the red-berried tree, writing letters, all the warnings he had rehearsed vanished from his mind.
Instead, he praised her for her diligence in reviewing her studies.
And when she blushed again in embarrassment, Benedict found himself — or rather, worried himself — about the possibility of another kiss like yesterday.
No, it wasn’t anticipation. He was just concerned.
That was what he told himself, even if it was a pointless thought.
Lucien didn’t kiss him again. Perhaps she realized that kind of behavior was inappropriate?
As expected, she was clever.
That’s what Benedict told himself — yet he couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed.
“So,” he began.
They sat side by side beneath the dogwood tree.
It had become completely natural for them to sit close enough that their shoulders touched.
This time, Benedict decided to talk a lot about her so she wouldn’t get curious about him again.
He already knew she was from a traveling troupe, but he wanted to know what she had done there, and where she had been before that.
“Where are you from? What kind of people were your parents? They must’ve been wonderful.”
Lucien smiled shyly.
“I’m an orphan. I came from the Ashdown Orphanage.”
Benedict stared at her in mild surprise.
Reading the curiosity in his eyes, Lucien rubbed her finger across the dirt and began to speak in a quiet voice.
“I was at the orphanage until I was eight. And… I was really ashamed of that.”
“Ashamed?”
“Yeah, because—”
Lucien smiled again.
“—it meant that nobody wanted me.”
Benedict had a thought: whenever Lucien talked about something painful, she smiled in a way that was especially beautiful.
It made his heart ache, so he quickly tried to offer comforting words.
“…It just means you hadn’t met someone who recognized your worth yet.”
“That’s such a beautiful thing to say. And I don’t think it’s wrong either. After all, someone did come for me in the end.”
Lucien recalled the day her entire life changed — when she was eight.
* * *
That day, the orphanage director called her — something that rarely happened. On top of that, he said, “Come neatly dressed.”
Lucien couldn’t help but get her hopes up.
“Maybe… someone wants to take me home.”
As she walked the short path between the children’s room and the director’s office, Lucien allowed herself to dream.
Maybe it would be an elderly couple?
Or perhaps a young gentleman and lady who had just gotten married.
She even thought it would be fine to go to the home of a woman who lived alone. Lucien was confident she’d be good company.
She knew she shouldn’t complain about her circumstances, but the orphanage felt like a worn-out box, carelessly filled with children like clutter.
Of course, as an orphan, she knew she should be grateful just to have a place to stay.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t dream.
Lucien always dreamed of a box just for herself.
It didn’t have to be fancy. She could endure a bit of hardship.
She called that box “home,” and imagined herself loving it every single day.
Finally arriving at the director’s office, Lucien gently knocked on the closed door.
It opened immediately. She saw the back of a man seated across from the director, and her heart began to pound.
“Ah, that child,” the director said, offering a rare, gentle smile and beckoning her over.
“Come in and say hello, Lucien.”
She walked in quietly and bowed deeply.
She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to look up, so she kept her gaze on the man’s worn-looking shoes.
He didn’t seem wealthy, but just knowing she’d have a home made her happy.
“You should lift your head and show your face,” the director gently chided.
Lucien lifted her head. A small-framed man sat before her.
She would later learn that he was the leader of a traveling troupe.
He gave her a once-over and smirked on one side of his mouth.
“That hair—did you dye it?”
Startled by the comment on her white hair, Lucien shrank back.
Her colorless hair made her look ghostly, and she’d often been told it was creepy.
“What nonsense. Look at this.”
The director plucked a strand of her hair and handed it over.
“Ow.”
The man held it up to the light and nodded.
“She’ll make a decent curiosity for a while.”
A curiosity? Lucien didn’t understand.
Until now, people had just said she looked ominous and were reluctant to adopt her.
“She’s too bland. Like a ghost standing around blankly. Whatever she performs, no one will care. I’ll take her cheap.”
“P-Perform? Me?”
Lucien was shocked and asked, but no one answered.
“You can’t! I taught her how to clean and do laundry!”
“You should be thankful for the pennies I’m offering, Director. You think I don’t know you’re just trying to reduce mouths to feed?”
As he crossed his arms, Lucien noticed the whip hanging from his belt.
Terrified, she moved closer to the director and whispered,
“I… I don’t want to go.”
Her trembling voice didn’t reach anyone’s ears — even though it was one of the first refusals she had ever made in her life.
“That’s terrible!”
Benedict’s indignant voice cut into the story.
“They didn’t even listen to you!”
Lucien smiled, comforted by his angry reaction — more upset than she was herself.
“Running an orphanage isn’t easy,” she said gently.
“How was life in the troupe?”
In truth, it was much harder than the orphanage.
At least the orphanage had sponsors, so she never starved.
But in the troupe, if a performance got canceled, they went hungry.
That winter had been especially hard. No matter where they went, last autumn’s bad harvest had everyone in a gloomy mood, and no one wanted to watch performances.
Even when they managed to get permission to pitch a tent and hold a show, too few people came. They often lost money just paying for the venue.
When that happened, even if food was available, only the performers shared it.
Kids like Lucien, who were just errand runners, didn’t even qualify for a portion.
“It was rough. But… not all bad.”
Some troupe members who appreciated how hard Lucien worked would share tiny bits of their meals with her.
Especially Jun, a 15-year-old boy who treated her like a little sister. He often gave up almost all of his share for her. Eventually, they’d just split everything equally.
“Everyone was in the same situation, so just being together helped.”
“But to think you couldn’t even eat properly…”
“That was the least of our worries.”
What really scared the troupe was the thought that they might have to disband.
They didn’t know how to live any other way.
“So what happened? Did you get to perform again?”
Lucien just smiled and nodded.
“We had a huge success in the next village. Everyone ate until they were stuffed.”
As kind-hearted Benedict sighed in relief, Lucien whispered so he wouldn’t hear.
“…Sorry.”
Because that was a lie.
The troupe hadn’t performed again by the time she left. They never escaped the hunger.
She even heard the leader talk about disbanding — they had reached their limit.
But she couldn’t tell Benedict that.
Not because she was worried it would hurt him.
It just didn’t feel right to speak carelessly about everything she had gone through.
At that time, when the troupe was in desperate crisis—
Lucien was summoned to the leader’s wagon.
She was terrified, thinking it was because she had botched a costume repair recently.
“You should count yourself lucky.”
The leader fiddled with a large, heavy pouch.
“The Duke has bought you. I named a steep price expecting him to decline — but he agreed without hesitation.”
Lucien blinked, not understanding.
Then the wagon door burst open and Jun ran inside, shielding her.
“You’re selling a twelve-year-old girl to a noble?!”
“How dare you barge in here!”
The leader raised his arm as if to strike, but didn’t.
Jun’s appearance was one of the troupe’s biggest assets. Just putting the beautiful boy on stage brought women from the villages to their shows.
“If I can make money, I’ll sell a twelve-year-old or a forty-year-old. Doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t know what nobles might do to her!”
“What could they do?”
The leader grinned and turned over the pouch.
Clink.
A shocking number of gold coins poured out. Even Jun’s eyes widened.
They’d never seen so much money.
“This isn’t even the full amount. It’s just the down payment.”
“Down… payment?”
Lucien whispered. The leader’s eyes gleamed as he grabbed her shoulders.
“That’s right. If you go, we get twice this amount. And you’ll be treated like royalty.”
“Lies! Don’t believe him, Lucien!”
Jun grabbed her arm.
“Don’t fall for this.”
“…But.”
Lucien looked back and forth between Jun and the leader.
She didn’t understand why a noble would pay such a large amount for a useless girl like her.
But one thing was clear — the coins were more valuable than she was.
“Um… Leader?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a nice dress so you don’t look pitiful when you meet the Duke.”
Lucien shook her head. That wasn’t what she wanted to say.
“I don’t know why he wants you, and I won’t ask. Nobles have their reasons.”
That wasn’t it either. Lucien looked up at him.
“If you have that money… can everyone have full meals from now on?”
“…What?”
He seemed caught off guard.
“I hope you’ll use it that way.”
“Lucien!”
Jun cried out.
But his voice lacked its usual energy.
Probably because he had shared so much of his food with her. He hadn’t eaten enough for himself.
That’s why Lucien was sure she wasn’t wrong.
“Promise me you’ll feed everyone properly, Leader.”
She lifted her chin proudly.
“Then I’ll go with the Duke quietly.”
