Chapter 13
“Nini! You can’t say things like that!”
Soles scolded her sharply, his face turning pale with shock.
“That’s a really bad thing to say!”
“But Grandpa used to say it all the time…”
“When did Grandpa ever say that?”
Nivellia pouted, clearly feeling wronged. But this time, Soles didn’t soften his stern expression.
Eventually, Nivellia gave in and apologized.
“…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’re the ones who interrupted you when you were busy.”
Al reached out to pat Nivellia’s head in reassurance, but she quickly dodged his hand with impressive speed.
“Don’t touch Nini’s hair.”
Only people she gave permission to could touch her hair.
To Nivellia, letting someone pat her head meant admitting they were above her in rank.
And Nivellia still didn’t see Al or Rubens as being above her.
“Still, this is kind of fun,” Al said with a big smile, unfazed by her rejection.
“So, what were you guys doing?” Rubens asked, walking over to the desk where Nivellia and the kids had gathered earlier. A large name dictionary lay open on top.
“A dictionary of names?”
“We’re trying to come up with a name for this boy. He doesn’t have one, so we decided to make one for him.”
“Huh?”
Rubens tilted his head slightly, confused, then looked at the boy with a puzzled expression.
“But he already has a name. Rima told me.”
“Rima?”
“She’s the girl with pink hair who used to be at the orphanage with him. Father said he’s going to sponsor her, so she came to live with us.”
Rubens explained casually.
“She said she was going to see you today and told me to say hi.”
At those words, the boy’s face twisted in a strange expression.
But only two people noticed—Nivellia, who had turned to glance at him, and Al, who had been watching Nivellia but caught the boy’s face by chance.
“If he already has a name… then I guess we don’t need to make one,” Soles said, sounding a little disappointed.
“Rubens, what did Rima say his name was?”
“It was a really cool name. It meant ‘lion’ or something like that…”
As soon as Rubens said it, the boy remembered what Rima had once told him:
“Hey, your hair looks like a shiny golden lion’s mane!”
“Le—! How about that? Cool, right?”
“The full name was a bit longer. Le…”
But before he could fully remember the name Rima had given him, the memory suddenly faded.
A small hand gripped his tightly, and the boy looked down slightly.
“No!”
Nivellia held onto the wolf-boy’s hand with both of hers and said firmly:
“You’re a wolf! Not a lion!”
“……”
“You can’t be a lion, okay? Nini will find the right name for you!”
With a determined grunt, she climbed onto a chair by herself and began flipping through the dictionary. But since she couldn’t read, there wasn’t much she could do.
“Oppa! Oppaaa!”
She ended up calling for Soles, whining until he came over to help.
“Find a name that means ‘wolf’!”
“Okay, okay. Just calm down. And don’t stand on the chair with your shoes on.”
“Want us to help?”
“Nini, I can read! I’ll help too!”
Before long, all the children were focused on helping find a new name for the boy.
But the boy himself—the one meant to receive the name—stood off to the side, watching quietly.
They were trying to give him a name, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to join them.
All of them were noble children, born into privilege. He was just a skinny, uneducated orphan.
The sad thought weighed heavily on him, keeping his feet rooted to the floor.
“Wolf!”
But Nivellia reached out and grabbed his hand again.
And just like that, his feet—so heavy moments ago—lifted off the ground with ease.
“Hehe, we found it!”
The kids, now sitting in a circle on the floor instead of around the desk, had written down several names related to wolves on a separate sheet of paper.
Nivellia pointed to the first name on the list with her finger.
“Aref!”
“That one’s pronounced ‘Hirfa.’ Aref is this one,” Soles corrected gently.
Soles, realizing how confidently Nivellia had gotten it wrong, gently pointed to another name.
“This one is Aref.”
“Aref…”
The boy quietly repeated it.
It felt right—like a puzzle piece slipping perfectly into place.
“Aref.”
He said it again, a bit more firmly this time.
“You like it, huh?” Al asked with a smile. Then he explained the name’s origin.
“That name belonged to a wolf who fought alongside Grandfather Ardores in the Crefartna War, more than forty years ago.”
Back then, the world had been plagued by terrifying creatures called demons—twisted beings that brought destruction and death wherever they went.
The heroes who ended that disaster were Saintess Muniel and Holy Knight Ardores.
Just as Saintess Muniel had raised a white cat named Nini, Ardores had always kept a golden-furred wolf named Aref by his side.
“Aref means Golden Wolf. After the war ended, a lot of people started using the name.”
“Come to think of it, it really suits you. You’ve got blond hair too!” Rubens said, grinning proudly.
The boy self-consciously touched his hair.
Back at the orphanage, the staff used to yank on it, sneering, “Too bad it’s not made of real gold!”
Because of that, he had always hated the color of his hair. Even now, the memory made his scalp ache.
“See? Wolf!”
Nivellia held up her own silver hair for him to see.
“Nini has white hair, and the wolf has yellow hair.”
“……”
“They’re both awesome colors!”
Her smile was wide and full of pride. As she beamed, her silver hair sparkled softly.
The boy’s red eyes trembled as he looked at her. Something inside him stirred—quiet but warm.
Meanwhile…
While the children were focused on finding the boy’s new name, Duke Kalaroff de Gladius was in the parlor, speaking with Muniel.
“Thank you. Thanks to both of you, his condition has improved a lot.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. So, when are you planning to return to your estate?”
“Not until summer, most likely.”
“Then while you’re here, we’ll…”
As the conversation continued, Muniel set her half-finished teacup down on the table.
“…Ralph.”
Kalaroff was a father. He was also a swordsman—tall, well-built, and solid with muscle.
But Muniel still treated him like a child.
And Kalaroff didn’t mind when she used his nickname from when he was young.
In fact, at his age, he was grateful to still have someone he could rely on.
“…Did you happen to bring home another child from the orphanage? One other than the one I originally asked for?”
Sometimes, when she did this—guessing things he hadn’t even mentioned—he felt a chill run down his spine.
“…How did you know?”
“My dear boy, I may be old, but I’m still a saint.”
“Does that child have holy power?”
Muniel was known throughout the empire’s history as the most powerful—and most terrifying—saint of all time.
For someone like her, sensing whether someone had holy power was as easy as tasting lukewarm soup.
She folded her arms and closed her eyes, thoughtful.
“…It’s a bit unclear. But there’s definitely some strength.”
It was too greedy to be holy power, too untrained to be magic.
And too weak to simply call “power.”
“Actually, I got the feeling that boy wasn’t ordinary either,” Kalaroff admitted.
“He stood right in front of me, said I had to take him. Insisted he could be useful. The way he said it—so bold—I couldn’t believe it.”
“But you brought him anyway,” Muniel said, clearly surprised.
“That’s not like you at all.”
“You’re right. Normally, I would’ve left him there and just continued supporting the orphanage with donations.”
“……”
“But his hair…”
Kalaroff’s red eyes narrowed slightly.
“It was her hair.”
That soft pink hair.
The hair he hadn’t seen in so long.
The hair of someone he missed every day—someone he still loved dearly.
Muniel, who had been listening silently, finally asked:
“You didn’t bring him with you today? Yesterday, he came with you in the carriage.”
“You knew that too?”
“I told you—don’t underestimate a saint.”
“I was going to bring him,” Kalaroff replied. “But he politely declined. It was as if he understood my situation.”
“If you’re only going to be a sponsor, it’s better to keep your distance.”
It might be cruel to the child, but it was more honest to set clear boundaries—so they didn’t hold on to false hope.
Muniel gave a bitter smile, then suddenly let out a small chuckle.
When Kalaroff asked what was funny, she waved it off casually.
“…It’s nothing. I just remembered a story I read when I was younger. What you just said reminded me of a line from it.”
The memory of the old tale made her begin to share it.
“It was a little childish, but honestly, it was pretty fun. There was a wealthy young duke who visited an orphanage and—”
But her smile suddenly froze mid-sentence.
“…Lady Muniel?”
Sensing something was off, Kalaroff quickly called to her.
Muniel had been more of a parent to him than his own birth parents—always warm, always smiling. He had never seen her like this before.
She looked as if the ground had just crumbled beneath her feet.
“Grandmaaa!”
Knock knock!
Just then, a bright voice rang out beyond the closed parlor door, breaking the tense silence.
“Nini’s here! Nini!”
“Father, we’re here too,” Rubens added from behind her.
That snapped Muniel out of her daze. She blinked, then managed a faint, reassuring smile toward Kalaroff.
“Shall I call for a physician?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I just need a moment alone. Just a moment—I need to collect my thoughts.”
“Understood.”
“Keep the children outside for now. I’ll come out shortly.”
Kalaroff gave a quiet nod and opened the door to step out of the parlor.
“Grandma—!”
Nivellia had been bursting with excitement, calling out for her grandmother.
But as soon as she saw the towering, unfamiliar man standing before her, she went completely quiet.
“……”
Without a word, she grabbed the boy’s hand tightly and quickly hid behind Soles.
