We were inside the castle grounds. Dorothy was the only spy here. So this person was, without a doubt, someone of House Krost.
Thank goodness.
Nestled inside the robe like a tent, I felt unexpectedly cozy.
He’s taller than I imagined.
I wriggled between the man’s legs, gripped the robe like a curtain, and poked just my eyes out to survey the garden ahead.
There was Dorothy at the entrance, chest heaving, her face flushed scarlet with fury. She looked like a very angry balloon.
If she found me, it was over.
“…The inner garden doesn’t permit outside visitors. Who would be—”
A low, quiet voice descended from above and bored straight into my ear.
I slowly tilted my head upward.
His face was obscured by the hood, but from his tone alone it was clear this was someone of considerable standing in the castle.
I had no idea who this person was, but I needed them on my side immediately.
I peeked out from the robe and looked up at him.
“Excuse me, mister—”
“Gardener?”
Someone else’s voice arrived at the same moment a large palm pressed gently against my face and tucked me back inside.
I stumbled, sat down, grabbed the man’s trouser leg, and hauled myself upright—just in time to hear a familiar voice from just beyond the robe.
“I apologize for intruding without permission, but I happened to see you were in the garden. Have you by any chance seen a small girl running by? A girl of about five years, with—”
It was Dorothy.
So the robed man is actually a gardener. I assumed he’d be at least an aide, given how he speaks. Interesting.
“Why are you looking for her?”
“She’s suspicious. The child claimed she knew the whereabouts of the missing young lady of House Krost.”
“The missing young lady.”
Something in his voice had changed. I froze.
Why does his tone sound different suddenly?
The hand I’d had clutched around his trouser leg went stiff.
The composed evenness with which he’d spoken until now had acquired the faintest trace of frost.
He was a gardener who understood his master’s grief more deeply than most, perhaps.
“W-well…”
Dorothy had sensed the shift too; she faltered.
“I intended to bring the child in myself before she could make a formal request for an audience, but she pulled away from me and fled.”
Wonderful. Now he’ll hand me straight back to her. I shrank down as small as I could.
A moment of stillness. My heartbeat picked up.
If the gardener turned me over to Dotty—
Then I would expose her. I would tell them what she really was.
Yes, that would mean revealing that I was a spy too. But I had at least come here to help them, so perhaps they would look on me with some degree of mercy.
Fine. You go down, I go down. We’ll see.
I braced myself and grabbed his trouser leg, eyes narrowing to triangles—
“I haven’t seen any child.”
…He was covering for me?
“I see. Then I apologize for the interruption.”
Thud.
The shock made me release his trouser leg.
Dorothy’s footsteps faded steadily into the distance. My hammering heart slowly steadied itself.
“You can come out now.”
“……”
“It’s all right. The maid is gone.”
At the quiet low voice, I gathered my courage, crept out from the robe, and gave a small bow.
“Thank you for helping me, mister.”
“You said you know where the young lady is?”
He bent down on one knee and met my eyes.
“If this is a joke, you understand it’s gone far beyond the line, don’t you? How do you know where the young lady is?”
Being so close, I could now see the lower half of his face beneath the hood—
A jaw with just enough definition to be called masculine. A set, firm mouth. The face was still mostly hidden, but what was visible was unquestionably good-looking.
…Are you sure he’s an extra?
I composed myself and answered plainly.
“I was in the same orphanage as the young lady.”
“…An orphanage?”
The corners of his mouth tightened slightly.
“Yes. But I had my own circumstances and eventually left. The young lady is still there.”
This was, of course, a lie. But as someone who had read the original story, I knew which orphanage the daughter was in.
“…Where is this orphanage?”
The man’s voice wavered, just a fraction.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I intend to tell the Duke directly. But only if he agrees to my terms.”
“…Ha. And what are these terms?”
He exhaled—just barely—and bit out the question. He seemed somewhat anxious despite himself.
Of course he is. He’s learning that someone knows the whereabouts of the daughter his master has been desperately searching for.
Duke Krost would be far more desperate than any gardener. Which meant I had to ask for something substantial.
I breathed in and pressed down on the nervous flutter in my chest. And then I gripped the hem of the man’s robe.
“Excuse me. Are you unmarried?”
“…What?”
Even though his expression wasn’t visible, I could feel the brow beneath that hood furrowing.
He clearly had never anticipated being asked this by a five-year-old.
But I was desperate.
“If you are, I was hoping you might become my legal guardian. Though it doesn’t have to be you specifically—anyone from House Krost would do. I intend to ask the Duke to arrange it.”
He needed an explanation, so I continued.
“If I reveal the young lady’s location, and whoever is behind her disappearance finds out and comes after me—I need someone to protect me. Don’t I?”
A silence. Then a quiet reply.
“…House Krost would provide that protection.”
“Until when?”
“Until you’re safe.”
“And what does ‘safe’ mean, exactly? Where does it end?”
He stopped.
I knew what kind of person he was.
Quiet and blunt—but kind beneath it. That was why he had sheltered a stranger’s child without a second thought. Someone like that wouldn’t cast away an adopted child the moment danger arrived.
That was exactly who I needed to ask.
“House Foss will follow me forever.”
I said it quietly, curling my small fist, and the man’s eyes sharpened.
“House Foss? Are you saying House Foss is behind the kidnapping of the young lady?”
“I—I’m not sure about that, but… I do know that House Foss is dangerous.”
Glance.
I looked sideways at nothing and pretended to be absorbed in the middle distance. Then, before he could refuse, I rushed to add:
“…Honestly, my only goal right now is to survive, eat delicious desserts, make some friends, and maybe one day fall in love.”
“You have no friends?”
That hit me right in the pride.
“I do?”
“Do you?”
“…I have plenty, actually?”
“Really.”
“……”
Change of subject. I needed to redirect this conversation. I reached back into what I remembered from the original.
This was a world where abilities called Divine Gifts existed.
House Krost of the Frozen Kingdom wielded the Ice Affinity. House Foss of Doctia wielded the Poison Affinity.
The two houses kept the world in a fragile balance, ability against ability.
But lacking an affinity didn’t mean lacking influence. Those without one trained as knights or memorized spell forms and rose as mages.
Let me try that angle.
“Ahem. Allow me to introduce myself properly.”
I cleared my throat.
“I was raised through tremendous hardship from a very young age, so I don’t ask much of you. Just a place to sleep. Food I’ll figure out on my own.”
“What?”
“And unlike most five-year-olds, my internal clock wakes me at five every morning. I have excellent stamina. You could put me to work as a garden assistant and you’d have absolutely no complaints.”
“…The thing—”
“Just—just raise me until I’m of legal age.”
He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I wasn’t done.
“And if I may share my life plan: I have somewhat above-average physical ability for a child my age, and I intend to use it to become an S-rank mercenary in a free country.”
“……”
“An S-rank mercenary makes excellent money. Eventually I would be able to give you a very generous monthly allowance. If you’re going to invest in a child, why not invest in a golden seed? Think of the return.”
I pointed solemnly at myself.
“Naturally, the golden seed is me. So please. Raise me.”
There. Any parent alive would cave to that speech.
I swelled with quiet pride and gazed up at him in what I felt was a very compelling manner.
He stared at me for a moment as if he had temporarily left his own body.
Then he gave me a light, painless flick on the forehead.
“No.”
“…Why not?”
“Why? You’re asking why?”
He tilted his head, then knelt down.
And in a posture that was just slightly too dangerous—elbow propped on one knee, leaning over me—he looked down with an expression I couldn’t see but could certainly feel.
“Do you know who I am?”
I thought for a brief moment. “I know you’re an adult who protects children.”
Then I frantically rolled up my sleeve and presented my bicep.
“Look. Impressive for an ordinary five-year-old, isn’t it?”
“That’s not a bicep. That’s a slime.”
“……”
Here I was, a trained spy, being compared to slime.
My pride stung. I jutted out my lower lip.
“A large slime.”
“?”
“A very firm, very strong—”
“Enough about the slime.”
“What?”
He stood up abruptly.
“Talking to you will never reach a conclusion. Just follow me for now.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, and without even telling me where we were going, simply walked off ahead.
There was no warmth of expectation in that quiet, flat voice.
Why? Is my résumé not strong enough?
“W-wait—what if I promised to become the Mercenary King instead of just S-rank?”
No response.
“If the Mercenary King doesn’t interest you, I’ll earn enough money to buy you a viscount title!”
I trotted desperately after him, calling out to his back.
“Please consider my potential—Father!”
________________________________________
And so my one-sided monologue continued.
“For the record, I’m not a difficult child to raise!”
“……”
“Early to bed, early to rise.”
“……”
“I can study diligently and assist you with your work—a perfectly complete human being who could be your best friend’s daughter, your own flesh and blood, your—ow.”
Something brought me to a sudden stop.
Mid-pitch, the gardener halted without warning. I walked directly into his leg with my forehead.
…Wow. Incredibly solid.
Not a log—steel. Were all gardeners built this way?
I was still dazedly rubbing my forehead when—
“You.”
The man turned and crouched down to face me.
Still wearing the hood, still impossible to read. But somehow, he seemed genuinely at a loss.
“Did you say that kind of thing to other adults? At your orphanage?”
“Like what?”
“All that talk about becoming the Mercenary King, or how choosing you would be a decision they’d never regret.”
“No. I pick my audience.”
I blinked up at him with bright eyes.
“You’re the best adult I’ve met.”
And smiled.
It was the smile of Aisha-the-trained-spy—but the man, rather than being charmed, seemed to grow more unsettled and let out a quiet exhale.
“Wait in this corridor. A steward will take you to His Grace’s study. When that happens, don’t chatter. Just quietly tell him where the young lady is.”
“But I need to get something out of this too.”
“There’s a viscount family among House Krost’s retainers that has been hoping to adopt. A knight family—you’d be well protected.”
He placed his large hand on my shoulder.
But I had a feeling a random viscount wouldn’t be quite the same as this particular man.
“Do you understand?”
When my silence went on too long, I felt the weight of something desperate in that shadowed gaze.
“…All right.”
Nothing to be done about it.
I gave a reluctant nod, and the man released a breath he’d been holding.
“Then wait here.”
“Yes.”
Once the gardener disappeared, the corridor held only me and the guard posted outside.
“……”
I glanced at the knight.
“Ahem!”
He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked at the ceiling.
He had clearly heard every word of my exchange with the gardener.
A knight of House Krost.
I thought it over.
Knights faced mortal danger in wartime, but so did gardeners. However, a knight would presumably be both stronger than the gardener and better compensated.
And a knight of House Krost—their identity was already proven by their very position.
“Oh—”
I had been surveying him like a quiet owl, when the knight turned his head and our eyes met directly.
The gardener had promised to find someone, but when had a gardener’s word ever been a legal guarantee?
Gotcha.
I smiled.
“Excuse me, sir knight. Have you ever considered adopting a bright young daug—”
“Little one. This is not an orphanage.”
My legs abruptly left the ground before I could reach him.
…Levitating?
What? Had Aisha secretly had powers this whole time?
Something else was odd as well.
When I collected myself, the knight who had been right in front of me had gone chalk white and snapped to attention.
“Y-Your Grace! What brings you here—regardless, good day, sir!”
…His Grace?
I frowned, thinking.
If someone in House Krost was addressed as His Grace, then the only person that could mean was—
“I was passing and saw someone in apparent distress. As for this little one—who is she?”
I slowly turned my head.
The black mask I had only ever imagined from a novel’s description looked back at me directly.
Duke Calypse Krost.
________________________________________
“Your Grace. Good afternoon—but, ah, what exactly is that child?”
“None of your concern.”
Calypse carried me one-handed with the ease of someone moving a sack of flour.
As he walked through the corridor, the eyes of every servant and knight they passed fixed themselves on the two of us.
I was completely frozen. In the original, Calypse was described as deeply, genuinely frightening.
Expected for a primary villain—but.
He’s actually scarier than I imagined.
Taller than I’d pictured. Much taller.
185 centimetres? No—190 at minimum.
And his voice, as if he were speaking alone inside a cave, was an absolutely cavernous bass.
“……”
My body was five years old. My mind was adult.
I was a well-trained spy. There was nothing to be afraid of, and nothing to lose.
I was scared.
Thump. Thump.
His arm was solid as an iron beam, and every time he moved, my body swung like a pendulum on a clock.
Cold sweat trickled down my neck for the first time since transmigrating into Aisha’s body.
“Little one. Name.”
A low voice dropped onto the crown of my head.
“……”
“Are you dead? Why so quiet?”
I realized only now that he had asked me a question.
“…A-Aisha.”
“Were you always this quiet? I thought you were incredibly loud.”
He seemed to mutter something under his breath—too low for me to catch.
All I want right now is the gardener. He was the most approachable person I’ve met here.
Thunk.
But idle thoughts fled the moment a door opened.
The cold draft from the corridor was cut off.
A warm hearth. A deep violet carpet.
This was a study.
“…What exactly have you brought with you, Your Grace?”
A beautiful young man with a monocle, reviewing reports at the desk, looked up.
Knox, Calypse’s aide.
“Little one. I’m setting you down. Stand up straight.”
Calypse ignored Knox’s bewilderment and placed me on the floor.
“She says she knows where the young lady is.”
“…This child?”
“Yes. Now speak. Where is the young lady?”
The voice from directly above made me tilt my head back.
The black mask met my gaze.
Not elaborate, but elegant—a dark, engraved mask bearing the silhouette of a black panther.
Beneath the mask, the only exposed feature was a pair of crimson eyes—flickering with an unsettled mixture of curiosity and wariness.
It felt like being caught in a trap.
The man leaned forward slightly, looking down at me without moving an inch.
My mouth went dry.
Knox, Calypse—
Both of them were enormous.
They would have been intimidating at my original height. Seen from the perspective of a five-year-old, fear multiplied by something unreasonable.
“…Could I have paper and a pen?”
But I was a spy. A somewhat-trained child.
Whatever my heart was doing, I kept my face neutral and asked it plainly. The red eyes slid sideways toward Knox.
“Knox. Bring them.”
“I’m quite curious what she’ll draw.”
On Calypse’s orders, Knox placed paper and a pen in my hands.
Pull yourself together.
Watching them both, a realization had begun to form.
I was a spy. But at the same time, I was simply a powerless five-year-old child.
So—
“We write a contract first.”
“…What?”
Calypse looked as though he had misheard.
“She’s talking about writing a contract? With you? How old is this child?” Knox echoed, equally thrown.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
I ignored both of them as best I could, wrapped my small fingers around the pen, and pressed the nib to paper.
“Done.”
Writing with this body was unkind to my fingers. But I had managed to put down everything I needed to say.
I spread all five short fingers with a pleased air, but the moment Calypse read what was on the page, his brow creased.
“What does it say?”
“Allow me, Your Grace.”
Knox plucked the paper and adjusted his monocle with a flash.
Then:
“I can’t read it either.”
He declared this with complete dignity.
These people.
“I’ll explain it myself.”
Honestly, this was better penmanship than most five-year-olds could manage.
⋆｡ °☆⋆꩜·˚ ☆˚·꩜⋆
Apparently spending all my time on physical training had left my handwriting in need of further development.
I pointed to each line with my finger.
“If I provide the young lady’s location, you must fulfill the conditions written in this contract.”
“……”
“The condition is this: find me a legal guardian who will keep me safe until I come of age.”
“If you only find the young lady,”
Calypse replied quietly, an eyebrow lifting.
“I’ll give you an entire territory. So tell me her location. Now.”
“Your signature first.”
“You don’t trust the word of House Krost?”
I shook my head.
According to the original, Calypse was a man of his word, even with children. He would not brush a promise under the rug.
But.
“Right now, the only thing that can help me isn’t someone’s word. It’s a contract with legal force.”
I was alone.
Born to be a spy. A person who, in the Kingdom of Doctia and in the Kingdom of Frozen alike, had no identity—not even a document of existence. A person who, if she died, would leave no trace because she had never been recorded as having lived.
“So please sign.”
I was alone.
“Then I will tell you the young lady’s location in full detail.”
And the only thing I could trust was a contract.
I folded my arms and answered with quiet finality. Calypse stared at me for a moment, then exhaled.
“Knox. Bring the seal.”
“His seal? A simple signature would do—”
“Look at those eyes. You think a signature is going to satisfy her?”
“…Do as you wish.”
Thank goodness.
The tightness in my chest that had been clenched throughout our conversation finally began to ease.
And then—the pen was smoothly taken from my hand.
“But I have a condition as well.”
Calypse, who had claimed the pen, began writing something on the paper.
“If I follow the location you’ve given me, and the young lady is not there…”
________________________________________
