Chapter 15
At Meria’s sharp scolding, the children flinched in surprise.
‘R-right. That’s true.’
‘If you say something like that again, I’ll never share candy with you ever again!’
It wasn’t much of a threat, but among kids of similar age, it worked surprisingly well.
‘Ack! I won’t do it again!’
‘I’m sorry! I was wrong!’
As everyone hurried to apologize, a triumphant smile returned to Meria’s face. However, deep down, the inferiority complex she had felt remained.
As time passed and Miela lost her mother and was left all alone, Meria secretly felt a sense of superiority. But now…
‘I can’t accept this! Why is that annoying girl invited to a noble’s villa instead of me?’
To be honest, she was jealous. But she would never say it out loud. That would feel like truly losing to Miela.
“Are you guys picking on Miela again?”
Back in the present, a strange boy’s voice cut into the circle of kids surrounding Miela.
“What? Picking on her? We weren’t doing anything like that!”
Meria, startled and flustered, quickly denied it. But anyone could see they were ganging up on one person.
“W-who… Wait, are you Titi? Seriously?”
Even Miela didn’t recognize Istin right away, only realizing belatedly.
No wonder—he looked completely different from his usual self, almost floppy like a scarecrow made of straw.
“Miela, lucky you. You’ve got a fairytale prince who shows up when you’re in danger. Oh wait, not a prince—a servant?”
Meria didn’t hide her irritation and mocked them.
To have her dominance completely overturned just by the appearance of this boy—it hurt her pride. But she instinctively realized it was best to retreat now.
Even in his ridiculous outfit, the boy had an odd intensity that made him hard to mess with.
“What, we’re not even allowed to talk to neighbors now? Ugh, forget it. Let’s go, guys!”
Meria led the children away in a hurry. Left in the carrot field were only Miela, Istin, and the butler, who had been watching from a distance.
Istin glanced at the retreating group and asked,
“Tell me, Miela. They were picking on you again, weren’t they?”
“Hmm, not exactly. They just said dirt suits me more than a villa.”
Miela’s casual words made Istin frown even more seriously.
“And you just let that slide?”
“Come on, that’s not really an insult. It’s kind of true.”
If it had been him, he would’ve made sure they never said such things again. Istin thought bitterly.
What to do with this cluelessly cheerful girl who just smiled even after being insulted? He pressed his forehead in frustration.
“Anyway, forget it. Miela, stop working in the field.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve still got a long way to go.”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying it. Do you really think it makes sense for you to harvest all these carrots by yourself?”
It was the first time she’d seen Titi look so angry. The small, cute boy suddenly felt unfamiliar. Miela hesitated and asked,
“Why are you so upset, Titi? I don’t get it.”
“Because I’m worried.”
Eventually, Istin couldn’t hold back and said it. Miela pointed to herself in surprise.
“Me?”
“Yeah. I’m worried you’ll get hurt working here, or that you’ll collapse.”
His tone was sharp, but it was the most sincere thing she’d heard in a long time.
Since her mother passed, no one had worried about her like this.
To be comforted by a boy even smaller and weaker than her—it was completely unexpected. Miela’s eyes turned red with emotion.
“…Thank you. For worrying about me.”
Fortunately, she was good at holding back tears. A few blinks and they were gone.
“But if I stop working, I won’t get paid.”
She spoke in a deliberately casual voice. Istin’s brows knitted further.
“Paid? How much?”
“It depends, but usually I get around ten copper coins. Sometimes they give leftover food instead, like old bread…”
“What? Ten copper?”
Istin’s eyes widened in shock. That’s barely enough for a single meal—by this village’s standards, not even the capital’s.
“You’re working all day for that measly amount?”
“Yeah, it’s not much. They say kids like me can’t get paid as much as adults.”
“That’s ridiculous. Age doesn’t matter—it’s about how well you work. No, more importantly…”
Suddenly, a memory popped into Istin’s mind—when he first woke up at Miela’s house after collapsing.
He thought they were crazy, offering him dry bread and sausage. But now he realized—that was the payment she received for working.
‘Ugh, this is seriously messed up.’
Istin sighed. He was holding a small notebook in his hand—a record of his observations of Miela, where he wrote down even the smallest positive traits. But so far, it wasn’t very full.
[She’s diligent. To a truly unnecessary degree.]
[Generally honest. Seems bad at lying.]
[Likes tasty things, but usually eats anything. …Is this even a strength?]
He quietly pulled out his pen and added something new:
[Seems to keep promises and contracts faithfully—even if they’re unfair.]
“What are you doing, Titi?”
Miela suddenly leaned over and asked. Startled, Istin quickly closed the notebook.
“…Ah, it’s nothing.”
“Looked like you were writing something. Weren’t you?”
“Did you see what I wrote?”
He asked defensively, feeling guilty. Miela shook her head.
“No, I can’t read Imperial script. Even if I looked, I wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I see.”
Istin was relieved. The empire had a fairly high illiteracy rate, and someone like Miela wasn’t unusual.
Then, with a proud little smile, Miela added,
“But I can read the letters my mom taught me.”
“Really? Kingdom script? From which country?”
Istin asked with interest. Miela gave a sheepish smile.
“Well… I don’t know exactly. She said it was from a very faraway place. Can I borrow your notebook for a second?”
“Sure, here.”
Istin handed over the notebook and pen. Miela fumbled with the pen a bit, unfamiliar with it.
“This is so cool. The ink comes out on its own?”
“Yeah. Dipping it manually is a hassle.”
Miela was reminded of the writing tools her mother made.
She’d gather ashes from a fire and mix them with waste oil to make light ink. A fallen bird feather became a pen. Dried straw or leaves served as paper.
As she reminisced, Miela scribbled something in the notebook and handed it back.
Istin tilted his head. The letters were round and cute, just like her. He had no idea what they said, though.
“What does this mean?”
Miela smiled shyly and explained.
“Thank you, Titi.”
“What?”
“That’s what I wrote. Because I’m thankful.”
Istin was momentarily stunned. Something stirred deeply inside his chest like a crashing wave.
Seeing him silent, Miela hurried to explain further.
“Um, so the first word means ‘thank you’… and the second word is your name. Titi.”
“I see.”
Istin quietly stared at the handwriting.
[Titi]
It looked like four little squares stacked together. That was his name? Well, it wasn’t bad.
He added another line in his notebook. Miela curiously peeked over.
“What are you writing now?”
“It’s still a secret.”
Istin curtly brushed her off. Miela looked disappointed but didn’t press.
[Can read and write in an unknown script. An incredibly valuable talent.]
Even his mother would probably agree—this, at least, was a truly useful skill.
