Episode 42: Lara and Alec

Dallas carried the boy to the chapel. The chapel had a first floor, where the townsfolk gathered for services on weekends, and a second floor, which served as the living quarters for Dallas and Lara.

Compared to the villa where Lara had lived as a slave, the chapel was far more spacious and comfortable. In addition to separate bedrooms for Dallas and Lara, it also had a living room and kitchen.

When Dallas arrived in Lorange, he purchased the chapel, which was in near-ruin, and renovated it. He insisted on setting up a bedroom for Lara, crafting the furniture himself—measuring, cutting, and assembling a bed and a dresser—and decorating her bedside with a bouquet of white gardenias.

It was a charming and beautiful room. Lara, delighted, placed the gardenias in a yellow vase she had bought at the general store. Beside the vase sat a bonneted rag doll that Dallas had gifted her upon their arrival in Lorange.

The room was adorned with sky-blue curtains embroidered with pink floral patterns, a wooden bed, a wardrobe, and a vanity. Filled with flowers and a cozy atmosphere, Lara’s bedroom was even more luxurious than Dallas’s own.

He had furnished it with the best he could afford and decorated it with things he thought a young girl would like. Compared to the bedrooms of other girls in Lorange, Lara’s was especially quaint and cheerful.

With the boy on his back, Dallas climbed the stairs and entered Lara’s bedroom. It was a bit inappropriate to let a boy sleep in a girl’s room, but giving up his own room would leave him without a place to sleep, and Lara’s bed was too small for both of them.

“What do we do now…” Lara murmured.

After laying the boy on the bed, Dallas turned to her. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at the boy, whose breath came in shallow gasps.

“He’ll be okay. He’s not in great condition, but it’s nothing too serious,” Dallas reassured her.

He looked down at his daughter, her sandy hair braided into two neat plaits. The ends of her braids were tied with ribbons, and she wore a clean apron around her waist. With her bright appearance, Lara seemed no different from any cheerful village girl.

Caring for her every day, providing her with food and clothes, had deepened his affection for her. Yet, there were still moments when he couldn’t fully understand her.

One such moment came when Nora, their neighbor who lived near the chapel, brought over a basket of lemon bread and raspberry pie.

Dallas handed Lara a small basket and told her to go play in the nearby woods. Lara accepted the basket and bounded off, skipping excitedly into the forest.

And not long after, Lara returned with dirt smeared all over her skirt and sleeves. Her reddened eyes betrayed that she had been crying, and her palms were scratched from a fall or possibly a small branch.

She claimed she had simply tripped on her own, but it was clear a minor scuffle had occurred. Her subdued demeanor made it evident. From that day, Lara no longer ventured outside the chapel. Dallas tried to deduce which child had caused this change in her.

Judging by her reaction, it didn’t seem to be one of the village children her age. At only eight years old, Lara was too young to hide her emotions, and her expressions often gave away what she was feeling. Whenever she talked about the village kids, her small face would light up with a range of emotions. She still seemed to get along with them fine, so the culprit had to be someone else.

Dallas shifted his gaze to the boy lying before him. His sleeves were soaked with mud and grime, his clothes were tattered, and his nails were rough and unkempt. His pale face bore a bluish tint. Dallas narrowed his eyes. The villagers openly avoided this boy.

Not only was he ostracized, but the villagers seemed uneasy and even fearful when discussing him. For them to harbor such fear toward a mere child suggested that he must be someone extraordinary or someone to be wary of.

The boy lived in isolation, shunned by the tightly-knit community of Lorange, which was known for its insularity. Add to that the abandoned castle in the forest and the boy’s aloof demeanor.

With a weary expression, Dallas rubbed his temples. Apart from Tarson, a younger elder of the village, most of the villagers knew little about the outside world. Even Tarson likely didn’t know as much as Dallas, who had grown up as the son of a prosperous landowner near the town of Travis.

Until he turned twenty, Dallas’s father had raised him to be a businessman with ambitions of becoming a wealthy magnate. This upbringing gave Dallas a sharp understanding of politics and market trends. He knew how power shifted in the imperial court—who shed blood, who profited, which factions fell, and which ones rose.

Considering the timing of the boy’s appearance in the village, Dallas began to speculate.
Could he be a child of House Dalerian? Or perhaps from the Blaine Marquessate?

The Emperor had recently passed away, and his eldest son, Luberon, had ascended to the throne. Luberon was not born of the Empress but rather a concubine, and his legitimacy had been a source of contention. Known for his controversial character and actions, he faced significant opposition. Naturally, his reign was tumultuous.

Taking into account what Tason had mentioned about the boy’s arrival in the village, Dallas surmised that the boy might belong to a family ousted during the new Emperor’s rise to power.

Moreover, the grand hunting lodge in the forest, which the villagers referred to as “the castle,” had once belonged to the late Emperor’s half-brother, Duke Dalerian. If the boy lived there, he was likely of royal blood.

“Could he have eaten something poisonous?” Lara asked. “Last time, I saw him eating some kind of fruit from the trees, and it turned out to be something that could upset your stomach.”

“Hard to say,” Dallas replied. “As far as I know, there aren’t any mushrooms in this area potent enough to be lethal. Though deeper in the forest, who knows?”

“Then… then…” Lara hesitated.

“But if he had eaten a truly poisonous mushroom, he wouldn’t still be breathing now. Based on his symptoms, it’s more likely to be those fruits you mentioned.”

Dallas consoled his daughter while examining the boy. The bluish tint on his dry lips, the cold sweat, and the faint tremor of his eyelashes pointed to classic symptoms of abdominal pain and fever.

It seemed the boy had suffered from eating fruits or mushrooms he foraged in the forest, likely because the villagers refused to feed him. Nora had once mentioned that the boy sometimes scavenged leftovers discarded by the villagers. It was a wonder his condition hadn’t worsened sooner.

Dallas sent Lara out of the room and headed to his stash of medicinal herbs. He began preparing an herbal extract for the boy to drink. Lara followed him out of the room but couldn’t stop glancing nervously back at where the boy lay.

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The boy woke up late into the night. Dallas had repeatedly fed him an herbal extract to help him purge the harmful substances from his stomach.

The boy vomited intermittently after taking the extract. Both Dallas and Lara helped him sit up, ensuring he could expel everything into an empty bowl.

Despite his violent retching, the boy remained semi-conscious, battling a high fever until just before midnight. He had two nosebleeds and let out faint sobs during the ordeal.

Each time he whimpered, Lara found herself quietly crying as well.

Seeing the poor orphan wheezing in pain brought tears to her eyes. The villagers’ cruel words, calling the boy an unwelcome pest and even throwing stones at him, weighed heavily on her heart. Dallas comforted Lara as he continued tending to the boy.

“Mm…”

Sometime past midnight, the boy’s complexion improved, and he began to stir, his eyes fluttering open with a faint grimace. Dallas observed the boy, who had never once called for his parents or any family despite wandering the village alone.

It wasn’t as if the boy lacked awareness during his sickness; his composure was peculiar for someone his age.

“Are you feeling better now?”

The boy opened his eyes. Dallas spoke gently to him as the boy, groggy and disoriented, let his gaze roam across the ceiling before settling on Dallas. His slightly parted lips tightened shut.

Dallas sighed softly and touched the boy’s forehead. His fever had gone down significantly.

“The fever has reduced quite a bit.”

Removing his hand, Dallas rose to his feet. The boy’s gaze shifted to Lara, who was sleeping peacefully beside him.

“My daughter found you in the forest,” Dallas said. “It seems you ate something you shouldn’t have, which upset your stomach. I’ll give you some medicine to help you recover. You’ll need to rest for a few days.”

With that, Dallas lifted Lara gently into his arms. The boy’s eyes lingered on her as Dallas offered a faint smile before leaving the room.

The boy’s condition improved rapidly. Like Lara, he didn’t reject the medicine or food Dallas offered.

He no longer regarded Dallas with the disdainful glares he had shown before, nor did he push Lara away with cold indifference. Perhaps it was because Dallas was an adult and had been caring for him, but the boy seemed more accepting of him.

Still, Lara felt a twinge of sadness. She couldn’t understand why the boy was so compliant with her foster father yet remained so cold toward her. But sitting at the table across from the boy while he quietly ate his meal, she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“Here, try this too.”

She slid a freshly baked loaf of bread across the table toward him. The bread was steaming, soft, and white, made from the finest flour.

The boy had recovered enough to eat more substantial food, like stew with chunks of meat and vegetables, so Lara had eagerly brought him the bread she had just made.

However, the boy didn’t even glance at the bread she offered. His disregard was blatant. Lara froze, disheartened by his indifference.

Deep down, she had sensed it all along—the boy was ignoring her. Despite her efforts to stay by his side, he treated her as though she were invisible.

Yet, Lara couldn’t help but hover around him, trying to catch his attention. She wanted to speak with him, to meet his gaze, though she didn’t know why.

Feeling dejected, Lara dropped her gaze. Just as she was about to take a spoonful of stew, the boy stood up from his seat. Startled, Lara looked up at him.

His face was utterly devoid of emotion, as though wiped clean of any feeling. His cold, haunting gaze was as frigid as ice. Lara burst into tears. The boy walked past her and exited the chapel.

He didn’t stay long in the chapel. Once his body had recovered, he gave Dallas a formal farewell and returned to where he lived. Lara was overcome with anger and sorrow, unable to bear it. In the end, she fell ill with a fever two days after he left.

There were no other symptoms, such as coughing or sneezing, leading Dallas to believe his foster daughter was suffering from a broken heart. He tenderly stroked her burning forehead, thinking of the boy whose name he still didn’t know.

When Lara wasn’t looking at him, the boy’s iron-like eyes would often follow her with sharp focus. It was clear he was trying hard to suppress and hide whatever emotions lay buried in the ashes of his gaze. Though he might have believed he was concealing them well, Dallas could see through it—after all, the boy was still a child.

“Lara…”

With a heavy heart, he gently called her by her birth name. Lara didn’t seem to hear him, lost in her fevered state, softly wheezing. She finally got out of bed exactly two days later. During those two days, Dallas cared for her diligently, soothing her as best as he could.

Though she never said it outright, it was clear she resented the boy for ignoring her. Whenever Dallas mentioned him, Lara would freeze like ice and avert her gaze.

Hoping to lift her spirits, Dallas decided to take her for a walk around the village. At first, Lara hesitated, unwilling to get up, but when he promised to buy her a bouquet of pretty paper flowers and a ribbon at the general store, she finally agreed.

“This cursed orphan! Where did you steal the money from?”

They were about to pass through the village square when a loud shout erupted near the entrance of the general store. Holding Dallas’s hand, Lara turned her head toward the commotion. Dallas, too, stiffened and shifted his gaze, his expression hardening.

“Jack, teach that brat a lesson! Beat him so badly he’ll never crawl back into the village again!”

The harsh shouting made the hairs on Lara’s neck stand on end. Feeling uneasy, she hesitated, but when she spotted the angry faces of the villagers, she pushed her way into the crowd. It was an act of courage unimaginable for the usual Lara.

“You flea-ridden scum!”

As her intuition had warned, the one being beaten was the boy. He glanced at Lara, who had worked her way into the throng, before indifferently turning his gaze away, just as he always did.

A man gripping the boy by the collar raised his fist high. The boy made no effort to avoid the blow. With a loud thud, his handsome face snapped to the side.

Despite the brutal hit, the boy didn’t lose consciousness and slowly straightened his head again. The man hurled curses at him and continued to rain blows on him.

Lara, frozen and unable to move, suddenly snapped into action, rushing toward the boy. She threw her arms around the man’s body, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Stop it! Stop!”