Chapter 6

Uncle Baron had given me nothing but egg sandwiches three times a day, every single day of the week.

And now, that very same egg sandwich was sitting right there on the dining table, as if it were something to be proud of.

My face crumpled into a pout.

Maybe being a picky eater isn’t always such a bad thing.

At the orphanage, we had been served different foods at every meal. But here, I had eaten nothing but egg sandwiches for an entire week.

No matter how good a child I was, even I couldn’t bear to eat another egg sandwich.

With all those feelings packed into my little heart, I poked the chicken with my finger.

“Pssst!”

When the man’s eyes widened, I quickly pulled my finger back.

Lick.

I licked my finger and tasted the sauce.

“Whoa!”

I had only tasted a little, but my entire mouth was already burning with spiciness.

“Phew! Phew!”

It’s spicy!

I stuck out my tongue and fanned it with my hand, but the longer I did so, the hotter it seemed to get.

“(Waaah! Misteeer! It’s spiiiicy!)”

With tears welling up in my eyes, I grabbed the man’s trouser leg and shook it.

“Good grief. I buy you a sandwich, and you go out of your way to make yourself suffer. Just brilliant.”

Unable to watch me struggle any longer, the man poured some water into a cup and handed it to me.

I gulped down the water, then stuck my tongue right into the cup.

Since he had already crouched down to give me the water, the man sat on the kitchen floor and watched me.

When I started sniffling and struggling with the spiciness, he burst into laughter.

But I’m suffering so much…!

Puff! Puff!

“(Why are you laughing at meee?!)”

Even when I glared at him with my eyes wide open, just as he had done earlier, it was no use.

The man rested his arms on his knees and propped his chin on his hands. The more fiercely I glared at him, the harder he laughed.

Huff! Huff!

Even the top of my head felt like it was burning.

“Little squirt, what am I supposed to do with you? You’re just too ugly.”

“Y-You…”

Good children mustn’t be rude to adults.

Good children don’t fight with adults, either.

And good children should know how to forgive people who say mean things, at least once.

As I tried to hold back my anger, breathing heavily through my nose, the man snorted and rubbed my forehead firmly with his hand.

I watched his hand closely, wondering what he was doing.

He was wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on my forehead because of the spicy food.

Huh?

For a tiny moment—a very, very tiny moment—he reminded me of my younger maternal uncle.

Whenever I finished running around and playing with my cousin, my uncle would always wipe the sweat from my face just like this.

As I stared at him with my eyes wide open, the man casually lifted me up and sat me in front of the dining table.

“Let’s eat.”

The man immediately began eating, but I had already eaten egg sandwiches at least five hundred times. I didn’t want to eat anything anymore.

Glance. Glance.

I secretly peeked at the man’s spicy chicken.

That was way too spicy…

“(Misteeer. I’ll give this to you.)”

Plop.

I placed my sandwich on the man’s plate.

That way, I would be a good child, and the man could have a taste of the sandwich, too.

“(I don’t really have much of an appetite.)”

“Why? Aren’t you hungry?”

“(Mm-hmm. No. Yees.)”

Even after I answered, the man tilted his head in confusion, so I nodded.

Only then did he understand what I meant.

“If you don’t eat now, there won’t be anything left later. Even if you tell me you’re hungry, I won’t give you any food. So think about it again.”

I shook my head once more to show that I didn’t want to eat.

The man picked up the sandwich and opened his mouth wide to take a bite.

At that very moment—

Grrrrrrr!

My stomach rumbled like thunder.

Eek!

I hurriedly grabbed my stomach, but it was too late.

The man froze in the exact position he had been in while trying to bite into the sandwich, then clicked his tongue.

“Look at you being picky. You’re barely even out of diapers, and you’re already making all sorts of demands.”

B-But good children weren’t supposed to be picky eaters…

My eyes shook violently.

I had to prove that I was a good child who ate almost everything, except carrots.

But there was nothing on the table that I could eat.

At this rate, I’ll end up at the Cave Orphanage.

Just as the tip of my nose began to sting and tears welled up in my eyes—

Scrrrape.

The man stood up.

Was he going to kick me out because bad children weren’t allowed to eat with him?

Would I be happy at the Cave Orphanage, with its dark, gloomy, and desolate surroundings?

My friend Luana, whom I had met at Sunshine Orphanage, had told me that other orphanages weren’t as happy as ours.

The tears clinging to my eyes were about to spill over with worry.

Sniff.

How could I be expected to eat another boring egg sandwich when delicious-smelling chicken was right in front of me?

The man returned with a bowl of water and began removing the meat from the chicken bones.

“I should be out doing something else, but here I am, stuck looking after a kid. What a miserable life I have.”

He grumbled as though it were terribly annoying, but he didn’t seem to hate it that much.

Well, he seemed to hate it quite a bit. Just not that much.

The man separated the meat from the bones, rinsed it in the water, and dropped the pieces onto the plate in front of me.

Then he spoke in his usual blunt tone.

“Hey, little squirt. I’m not your mother. Pick up your fork and eat by yourself.”

I quickly picked up my fork.

Poke!

I speared a piece of chicken and put it in my mouth.

Worried that it might still be as spicy as before even after the sauce had been washed off, I squeezed my eyes shut and chewed.

The chicken the man had given me tasted…

“Gasp!”

I had prepared myself for the possibility that my face might explode from the spiciness, but it wasn’t spicy at all!

There was still a slight spicy aftertaste, but I could really taste the meat itself, and it was delicious.

The tears that had been precariously clinging to my eyes moments ago began to dry up.

I was so happy with the taste that I flapped my arms and legs excitedly.

The man let out a surprised laugh.

“Is it good?”

“Yes!”

“Isn’t it spicy?”

“(It’s a wittle spicy.)”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Speak in the imperial language.”

“(It’s only this spicy!)”

I curved my index finger and thumb toward each other.

I narrowed the gap between my fingers until it was as thin as a strand of hair. But then the tip of my tongue started to feel a little hot, so I secretly widened the gap again.

Even while carefully slicing the meat with his knife, the man watched me instead of looking at his plate.

For some reason, he had a slightly frightening expression.

Am I not supposed to say that it’s spicy?

Worried that I might get in trouble, I tried narrowing the gap between my fingers again.

But then I thought about it.

Even if it was only a little spicy, saying that it wasn’t spicy at all would be a lie.

To be a good child, I had to widen the gap between my fingers again.

Glance.

When I looked at the man, our eyes met immediately.

He shook his head.

I couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or pleased that I was eating so well.

I worried that I should be scared again, but then the man gave a little snort of laughter, so I decided it was safe to relax.

Maybe he’ll let me stay here because I was a good child just now?

My friends had told me that, unlike our Sunshine Orphanage, other facilities outside had terrible food and scary teachers.

Adults liked good children.

So if I became a good child, maybe I could stay here instead of going to another orphanage.

Although the man seems like he doesn’t want to raise me.

Even though I had become a baby, I could still tell the difference between bad adults and good adults.

The man washing the chicken for me right now seemed like a good adult who wanted to be mean to me.

If he really hated me, he wouldn’t have waited until my stomach was full without eating a single bite himself.

I think I’m starting to like him.

A little.

Just a tiny bit.

About as much as the gap between my fingers right now.

“Psshhhaap!”

The little squirt had been eagerly gobbling up the meat like a baby bird being fed by its mother. But at some point, she stuck out her tongue and began acting as though she were dying.

Apparently, even after thoroughly washing the chicken, there was no getting rid of the sauce that had soaked into the meat itself.

When I poured her some milk, she gulped it down, her face bright red.

This was her last special meal before going to the orphanage, so I was being rather generous.

Anyway, whose daughter was this little brat?

Did her parents even know their precious child was suffering in someone else’s house?

Does she look like me?

Cassian carefully studied the little squirt’s face.

He had thick, black, naturally wavy hair.

The little squirt had thick, black, completely straight hair.

He had exceptionally rare golden eyes.

The little squirt also had exceptionally rare golden eyes.

But yellow eyes were a trait his nephew possessed, too.

How on earth does she look like me? Does having the same eye color mean we look alike?

The little squirt had round eyes framed by such thick eyelashes that they cast shadows over her face. His eyes, on the other hand, weren’t particularly round, nor did he have long, thick eyelashes.

The little squirt had a rounded forehead, while his was flat.

And, realistically speaking, there was no way someone as fierce-looking as Cassian could father a child who, despite still being a little bundle of flesh with barely formed facial features, was so adorable that she would make countless men fall for her once she grew up.

“Kyaha!”

The little squirt set down her mug with a radiant smile, despite having a white milk mustache above her upper lip.

“You eat well.”

It was just milk. What was there to smile about so happily?

She grinned so brightly that a faint dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth, making her look just like a baby angel.

I must be insane!

At that moment, Cassian was so startled that he smacked himself hard on the forehead.

He had only known the little squirt for a few days, yet he was already finding her adorable just from watching her eat.

He was definitely suffering from something. It was that thing, the… the…

“St-st-sto…”

After clutching his head and struggling to figure it out, the word finally came to him a few beats later.

Stockholm syndrome!

“Hey! You! Little squirt! I’m warning you. Cut it out!”

Cassian Calypso, of all people, was about to fall victim to that very Stockholm syndrome—the phenomenon where you started getting attached to someone simply because you saw their face every day!