“Mom!”
It was the moment Ivan, seven years old, was being beaten to death after getting caught stealing. He recognized the woman standing before him at a single glance.
He knew she was the type who flaunted her own nobility by reaching out to the wretched.
Surely, she would pay the money in his stead.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t do it again.”
Ivan clung to the woman with all his might, and as expected, she paid for the bread.
He assumed she would now spout some pathetic advice about never stealing from others again, but instead:
“Let’s go home now, Ivan.”
The woman, who followed him all the way back in a carriage, cleaned the house and even prepared a meal.
“Why did you clean the house? Why are you making food?”
“I told you. Your mom is going to do her best.”
No way…
Ivan scanned the woman slowly.
“Ivan?”
“……”
“……Are you mad at Mom?”
The corners of Ivan’s mouth trembled slightly.
Of all things. To think the person he grabbed onto was a madwoman.
