When The Mad Emperor Suddenly Becomes Sweet

CHAPTER 8

At the age of ten years old, Freya had become noticeably quiet. In the morning, she went out to beg for money, and then she returned home to do chores. She hid as best as she could to avoid catching Sophia’s attention, and that had proved to be effective because these days, the beatings had reduced drastically. There’s nothing to wish for, even in a life like this.

Once, on a cold winter’s day, Freya had run into Shiloh in the long hallway which led to the front door. He only came to visit about once or twice a month, and as soon as his blurry eyes had focused on her, she’d felt her insides twist.

“Hey, what is your name again?” He’d slurred.

Freya had kept wanting to step back as Shiloh had approached her, and she’d smelled the strong odor of alcohol on him. “I am Freya,” she’d replied meekly.

“Right. Such a lovely name.” Shiloh had taken a close look at Freya’s neckline and calves, which were beginning to develop into those of a young lady. When his gaze had reached her green eyes that resembled bushes in a forest, he’d looked into her face even longer. “I think you’ll become a fine specimen.” Shiloh’s eyes had been abnormally shiny, which had scared her.

Today, Freya had returned home from begging, holding a baby on her back. Sophia had said to her earlier, “Because you look about seven at the most, if you carry your baby on your back, you will be very popular.” Freya never agreed with what she said, but she couldn’t deny it. The baby, who had been crying quite a bit at first, had soon become exhausted and had fallen asleep on Freya’s back.

She recalled that Shiloh had also asked, “How did you end up thrown in a place like this?”

There was a time when Freya had believed that she lived in a house with a large family. But now she knew that she was an orphan, and every person here was nothing but a stranger. Sophia had told her that she wasn’t in a position to sympathize with her when she’d hit her every time she got angry. And Freya felt that she was in the same situation as this baby as she was just another abandoned child. Freya had no idea who her parents were and when her actual birthday was. But there was one piece of paper left with Freya’s name on it that showed that she existed. The only other traces left by her parents were her face and the rose-shaped scar on her forearm. “What was the point in giving me a name if they were going to abandon me?” She said while shaking a tin can, feeling bitter.

Freya took the baby to the room where the infants gathered and then quickly went outside. After carrying the baby around all day, her back was wet with sweat and stained with urine and poop. If she didn’t wash her only outfit, she would have to wear smelly clothes tomorrow. The smell is bearable, but I’m worried about skin disease.

When she remembered that she hadn’t taken off her dirty and damp shoes, her hands became busy. And then, after drawing water from the well, she hurriedly scanned her surroundings before removing her clothing. Her skinny body showed when she took off her raggedy dress, and she mumbled, “It’s pretty cold here.” Shaking, she brushed the back of the dress and poured water on it. “Ugh, I have to wear it again.”

The drenched clothing clung to her skin when she put it back on, and no matter how much she tried to stop shivering, she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Freya knew that she would be caught by Sophia if she walked around in dripping wet clothing.

“Why is this expensive carpet in a shabby orphanage?” Freya jumped up and down as she was freezing and tried to think of something positive and joyful to say, “This is a ballroom.” After imagining the well as a prince, she held the rags in both hands as she greeted him coolly. However, as she had never actually seen a ballroom, her mental vision could only go so far. Occasionally, when Sophia was drunk, she had told her stories of the past, and that’s all she’d heard of ballrooms. She wondered if women in beautiful dresses and accessories showed off their beauty at balls. “I can never be that.” The vision quickly ended, and Freya’s head soon drooped down.

Harsh wind grazing Freya’s cheeks indicated the beginning of winter. “I have to get back quickly and wipe down the picture frames.” She was walking with her two hands hugging her shoulders when she suddenly heard a strange noise. It sounded like a groan from an injured person. “Who’s there?”

When she approached closer, she discovered a boy lying down, unable to cross the back door of the orphanage. His clothes were in tatters and covered in blood, perhaps due to a beating from Sophia’s rod. The boy’s blond hair was glistening, and there was a faint fragrance despite his grave condition.

Seeing him struggle like that, I’m sure he’s not dead yet. Freya whimpered as she turned his body over. “Oh my!” She swore to the goddess, Diana, that this was her first time seeing someone so beautiful; his little face looked perfect with his eyes closed. “White and beautiful like a fresh cake.”

Freya turned the boy back over and thought for a moment about what to do. She didn’t want to take on the hassle of this situation. What if she beats me for doing unnecessary work? Just the mere thought of Sophia’s rod was horrible enough to make her toes curl. “But I don’t want to watch such a beautiful child die.” Several children who had lived in the orphanage had already died from their injuries which had been unpleasant experiences.

Freya thought about it momentarily and then decided to run to Sophia to tell her that she had discovered someone outside. The mean Sophia said something unexpected when she saw the boy’s face. “I’ll have to take him back. It’s my calling to take care of a child who’s suffering and lonely.”

Freya didn’t even take her words seriously. What a load of crap! Freya had never been looked after by her properly, so why would she care for this strange boy?

“He’ll be okay, right?” Freya watched from afar as the boy got carried away. She was concerned that she had done something wrong, but she shook her head and muttered, “I’ve got my skin to worry about.” Why should she worry about someone else? Everything concerning life and death was up to goddess Diana. Returning to work with a rag in her hand, she focused on wiping the dust between the stairs and the picture frames hanging on the wall.