A few hours earlier — at the Brecht ducal estate.
In the silent estate, unseen figures moved soundlessly.
Dorian picked up the documents that the informant had dropped off before dawn. On the envelope, sealed with plain red wax without any insignia, a short note was written:
The hounds have caught the scent.
With a single motion of his paper knife, Dorian cut off the wax. Inside the envelope was a set of documents bound with string.
The moment he burned the envelope and flipped open the cover—
“Duke!”
The door to the office swung open, and the luminous stone lamps on the wall wavered from the sudden disturbance.
Dorian, whose dark circles practically reached his chin, swallowed the surge of irritation.
“Quiet.”
The documents spread out before him were research materials from the Mage Tower—
the operation and design of trains powered by magic stones.
It had been nearly two years since his parents died in a train accident.
Officially, it had been filed as a derailment caused by insufficient safety training regarding the use of new magic-stone technology.
Half the passengers died, most were injured, and only a handful returned with their limbs intact.
The Imperial Railway Accident Investigation Bureau had concluded the incident was due to the engineer’s lack of proficiency with the new technology—but Dorian refused to accept that.
Because it was far too suspicious for all the deaths to have occurred in the first-class cars—
the section entirely filled with nobles.
He flipped the documents roughly. The accident site had been completely cleared that same day, and the engineer had died in the crash.
His younger brother, who’d been heading to a resort with their parents due to chronic illness, had miraculously survived—wedged between the seats—but had lost his ability to speak.
If only his brother regained his speech, he might finally uncover a clue.
Just then, his subordinate called him again.
“Duke…! It’s urgent! Master Lewin…!”
At his brother’s name, Dorian jerked his head up.
A fleeting thought passed through him—Did he regain his speech?—but he already knew.
If his brother’s name was being mentioned at this early hour, it could not be good news.
The documents in his hand trembled.
“Lewin? What happened to Lewin?”
“…The young master has disappeared!”
The subordinate’s anguished voice slowly echoed in Dorian’s mind.
The luminous stone lamp on the table fell and shattered.
When Dorian came back to his senses, he was already sprinting down the corridor.
His head felt unbearably heavy.
Who? How?
Just moments ago the knight commander had reported the nightly rotation—there had been nothing suspicious in the estate.
But when he burst into Lewin’s room, there were no signs of struggle—
only the curtains fluttering by the wide-open terrace.
When we got home, Lewin looked around curiously.
Feeling oddly embarrassed, I hurriedly shoved the books on my desk into a corner.
“We’ll eat here. Okay?”
“Ung.”
I’d been using the dining room as a classroom and ate alone in the study, so I didn’t really have a proper place to share a meal with a child.
The study only had one chair, so the classroom was the best option.
I quickly opened the windows to blow out the dust and chalk powder, and wiped down the table I used as a desk.
“I’m going to heat up the stew. It might be dangerous, so Lewin, sit here quietly.”
“Ung!”
Was he reassured? Or already adapting?
With a clean little face that no longer cried, Lewin sat at the table and looked around blankly.
I hurried into the kitchen connected by a small door and warmed the stew.
My senses had become sharper again, so I even teared up while cutting onions—but it was still far better than feeling nothing at all.
I placed the finished stew in front of Lewin.
His eyes sparkled, and he began shoveling it into his mouth so quickly he burned his palate.
He must’ve been starving.
I was glad to finally taste food properly again too, but I cautioned him so he wouldn’t get sick.
“Blow on it first so it’s not hot. Eat slowly. By the way, Lewin, how old are you?”
“Yedat.”
He probably meant eight, though with the slightly babyish lisp he had, he sounded more like a six-year-old.
He also referred to himself in the third person. Developmental delay?
“How did you get here, Lewin?”
“……”
Hmm. So he won’t answer that either.
Watching him stir the stew, I asked again.
“What about your family?”
“…Mama is right here.”
Considering he kept calling me “Mama,” his real mother must not be around.
Is he really some kind of baby messenger from the heavens?
I hesitated, then spoke.
“Okay, Mama is here. But what about the rest of your family?”
Maybe because I acknowledged it, Lewin lifted his head and gave me the brightest smile.
My heart tightened painfully.
“Hyung must miss Mama too.”
“…Hyung?” (older brother?)
“Ung.”
Lewin said that and started squashing the carrots with his spoon.
I tried to salvage the carrots with my own spoon as I asked,
“You have to eat the carrots! What is your brother like?”
“Hyung is…”
Lewin clamped his mouth shut again. I placed the mashed carrot back on his spoon.
“Mama…”
He started to tear up again. Is he on bad terms with his brother?
“Don’t cry, it’s okay. You’re a good boy, right?”
I reached out quickly, afraid he’d sob again.
“Tonight you can sleep with me, and tomorrow… want to go outside? Let’s go find your brother.”
My conscience stung, but it wasn’t a lie—we were going to look for his brother.
That was enough justification… probably.
Lewin brightened at once.
“Zzoa!” (Good!)
After he finished eating, I washed him clean and brought him to bed.
I had no guest room or spare mattress, so Lewin slept in my bed with me.
Thank goodness I had splurged on a slightly larger bed—because sleep is sacred.
Lewin slept peacefully, so I slept well too.
It had been four days since Lewin came to the tutoring house.
I passed the market daily for groceries, but never found anyone searching for him.
Meanwhile, the kid stayed unbelievably well-behaved. No picky eating, laughing whenever I read to him.
I’d worked part-time in a kids’ café before and met tons of children—yet I’d never seen one this gentle.
Was he really abandoned?
But if I kept him like this, I might be accused of kidnapping. It was time to visit the guard station.
I washed Lewin’s sleepy face and set out early.
The guards worked shifts around the clock, so it should already be open.
I knocked on the wooden door of the outpost.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
The door opened, revealing a bearded man.
“Oh, well if it isn’t the teacher from the tutoring house. What brings you here so early?”
“Um… I found a child at the market four days ago.”
“Four days ago—and you’re reporting it now?”
He looked at me with suspicion, and I quickly explained.
“I thought he was a neighborhood kid, so I kept asking around the market and checked the place where I found him.”
“Hmm…”
The guard glanced behind me. I tugged gently at Lewin’s wrist to bring him forward.
But Lewin refused to let go.
So I pointed subtly with my eyes. The guard murmured in surprise,
“He looks a lot like you.”
“But I really don’t know him.”
I whispered, but it must have reached Lewin’s ears.
He clung tightly to my skirt again.
“D-Don’t… Mama…”
Even though I couldn’t see him behind me, I could tell from his voice he was about to cry.
“He’s calling you ‘Mama,’ though?”
The guard gave me a look. I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered rapidly,
“But I swear to the heavens, I really don’t know this child. So, um, has there been any missing-child report?”
“I checked the handover ledger earlier—there was no child matching his description.”
“None at all?”
“There weren’t any missing-child reports, period. The board was empty—trust me.”
Suddenly, I remembered how he’d cried whenever I asked about his brother.
If he had a mother, he wouldn’t mistake me for her.
His father—who knows.
But he definitely had a brother.
Were they really on such bad terms? Did his brother truly abandon him?
My expression must’ve stiffened, because the guard scratched his head and said,
“Well then, how about taking him to an orphanage?”
“An orphanage?”
“Looks like you don’t plan to keep him. Either way, the orphanage is best—whether the family comes or not. That’s where they’d look first.”
He was right… but…
I bit my lip.
I couldn’t send Lewin to an orphanage.
Not just because of his mana—
but because of something far more important: his well-being.
This world did not treat children like children.
In my previous life, I may have grown up in an orphanage too, but I still went to school, ate nutritious meals, and had decent programs—
but not here.
Here, it was thin soup and five hours of hidden labor a day.
Education was a luxury.
And when you grew up, you were kicked out with nothing.
The place I grew up in had been a rare, well-run exception. Those places had strict limits on intake—you needed ridiculous luck to get in.
Most orphanages were overcrowded, underfunded, and used children as labor while taking donations.
“So, should I guide you there?” the guard asked.
I snapped out of my thoughts. I could still feel the little hand clutching my skirt.
If I let go, Lewin would end up in one of those orphanages.
I bit my lip hard, then forced myself to speak.
“No… Instead, please record his information as a found child. Write that I’m temporarily protecting him.”
A pitiful child with no parents and no relationship with his brother.
If the brother really abandoned him, he would end up living in an orphanage until he was thrown out as an adult.
Just like me in my past life.
And then he’d work himself to death trying to survive.
That’s far too cruel for such a small child.
Maybe… maybe finding a child in the same situation I once was, after being reborn in this world—
maybe it was intentional.
Maybe someone wanted me to heal my own wounds.
Maybe that’s why I was given this body,
and why Lewin was given such mana.
With that thought, I took Lewin back home.
First, I decided to extend the tutoring house’s break. Children spread rumors faster than adults without malice.
As I reheated last night’s leftover stew, I watched Lewin.
He was still shaken from our visit to the guards, but calmer than yesterday.
Once the stew cooled a bit, I placed it before him.
I closed my eyes… reopened them… glanced at him repeatedly… then cleared my throat.
“Ahem. Lewin. Do you want to live with me?”
“…Ung.”
His voice was tiny. Something in my chest ached, but I continued.
“Do you still think I’m your mom?”
“……”
“Whatever you think is fine. But… do you still see me as your mom?”
“…Mama…”
“Alright. Then I’ll be your mom.”
Lewin began to tear up again, leaving the stew untouched. I ruffled his hair gently.
Fine. Let the main characters of this world suffer through their angst arcs.
I, as the transmigrated protagonist, will make this a healing story.
But just as I made that decision—
someone knocked on the door.
