The ride back to the apartment was painfully quiet.
Not because the city lacked noise.
Bartini was alive even at sunset.
Mana-powered street lamps glowed softly across the roads while luxurious carriages and sleek black vehicles moved through the crowded streets. Noble districts shimmered with gold and crystal lights, while farther below, the lower sectors looked dimmer and far more cramped.
The divide between social classes was so obvious it almost felt intentional.
Honestly, this empire didn't even try hiding it.
Meanwhile, I sat in the backseat staring blankly out the window while mentally preparing myself for tomorrow.
Community service.
Five hundred hours.
Just hearing those words damaged my noble instincts psychologically.
I sighed heavily.
"…What kind of community service even exists in this world?"
Hopefully something simple.
Maybe cleaning streets.
Organizing books.
Helping elderly people cross roads.
Something peaceful.
Something that absolutely did not involve manual labor.
Unfortunately—
This world hated me.
The moment I arrived back at the apartment, I immediately found Lena sitting at the dining table reviewing several papers.
Fenrir was asleep beside her with his massive head resting on her lap while she absentmindedly scratched behind his ears.
So lucky.
"You're back Young Master," Lena said calmly without looking up.
"Mhm."
"The transfers are done," I muttered while loosening my coat slightly. "Academy fines included."
Lena blinked in surprise.
"You paid them willingly?"
"Please don't say it like that."
"But you hate spending money."
"…I still hate spending money."
Physical pain would've hurt less.
But unfortunately, staying enrolled at Imperial Academy was mandatory for my survival plans.
Lena carefully set her papers aside.
"Then all that remains is the community service."
"…Yeah."
Silence followed.
Then—
"What exactly will they have you doing?"
"…That," I admitted honestly, "is a horrifying mystery."
Because the original novel skipped over Damian's punishment almost entirely.
The story only mentioned that he disappeared from public view temporarily after the scandal and later died.
Meaning I genuinely had no idea what awaited me tomorrow.
Wonderful.
Lena looked strangely thoughtful for a moment.
Then her expression shifted slightly.
"…Actually."
I narrowed my eyes immediately.
That tone never brought good news.
"What?"
"The academy sent an additional notice earlier."
"Why are you saying that like a villain revealing the second phase of a boss fight?"
"…Because you're going to dislike this Young Master."
Absolutely fantastic.
"Just tell me."
Lena quietly handed me a folded document from the table.
I opened it slowly.
Then froze.
My eye twitched slightly.
"…No."
Lena looked away sympathetically.
"No?"
"Absolutely not."
Unfortunately, the paper remained real.
[Apparently, due to "the severity of Damian Valtor's misconduct toward lower-status students," the disciplinary committee specifically assigned his community service location personally.]
And that location was—
Saint Marianne Orphanage.
I stared at the paper in disbelief.
"…They're making me work with children?"
Lena nodded carefully.
"For five hundred hours."
"…This is targeted psychological warfare."
Because there was absolutely no way this assignment was accidental.
The academy clearly wanted Damian publicly humiliated.
Making a disgraced noble perform charity work at an orphanage after bullying commoners?
The symbolism practically punched me in the face.
I slowly lowered the paper.
Then leaned back into the couch with dead eyes.
"…I'm going to become a headline."
"Most likely."
"'Disowned Villain Noble Cleans Dishes for Orphans.'"
"That does sound believable."
The mental image remained horrifying.
Fenrir suddenly lifted his head before walking over and placing it onto my lap lazily.
Probably sensing despair.
I scratched behind his ears automatically while staring at the ceiling.
But what can I do? I had to do it. Even if I don't like it.
----
Next morning, I stood before Saint Marianne Orphanage.
The Saint Marianne Orphanage was located near the outer edge of Bartini's lower district.
Far away from the polished towers and glittering streets where nobles flaunted their wealth.
Mana street lamps flickered weakly instead of glowing brightly like those in the upper districts. Laundry hung between apartment windows overhead while merchants pushed wooden carts through crowded alleys filled with the smell of bread, smoke, and oil.
Children ran across the streets barefoot despite the cold morning air.
Honestly…
Compared to the noble district, this place felt like an entirely different world.
And standing directly in the middle of it—
Was me.
Damian Valtor.
Former noble heir.
Current public disgrace.
Wearing expensive clothes worth more than most monthly salaries nearby.
"…I stand out horribly," I muttered.
Several pedestrians were already glancing toward me strangely.
I sighed tiredly before finally stopping in front of the orphanage itself.
Saint Marianne Orphanage wasn't large.
A three-story stone building surrounded by a small iron fence and narrow garden area.
Old, but maintained carefully.
The white walls showed signs of age, yet flowers still bloomed beside the entrance despite the colder weather.
Someone clearly cared about this place.
A wooden sign near the gate read:
[Saint Marianne Orphanage — No Child Forgotten]
…
That unexpectedly hit harder than I thought it would.
I quietly looked away.
Don't get emotional over background scenery.
That's how authors end up adding unnecessary side arcs.
The front gate creaked slightly as I pushed it open.
Almost immediately—
"Big brother!"
Something small slammed directly into my leg.
"…Huh?"
I looked down instinctively.
A little girl clung tightly to my coat while staring up at me with sparkling eyes.
She couldn't have been older than six or seven.
Messy brown hair.
Missing front tooth.
Pure chaos energy radiating from her tiny body.
Before I could even process the situation—
Another child pointed toward me from the yard.
"Whoa! He's handsome!"
"His clothes look expensive!"
"Is he a sponsor?!"
"No, idiot, sponsors are dirty old pervert!"
What? Old pervert?
Suddenly—
Tiny footsteps everywhere.
Children began swarming toward me from all directions like hungry zombies sensing fresh meat.
"…Wait."
One grabbed my sleeve.
Another touched my coat curiously.
A third stared openly at my face.
"His eyes are pretty."
"He smells nice."
"Can rich people really eat cake every day?"
"Why's your hair shiny?"
What kind of interrogation was this?!
"Hold on," I said cautiously. "One at a time—"
Too late.
The children completely ignored me.
Meanwhile, I stood there stiffly like a man being surrounded by aggressive ducks.
One particularly tiny girl tugged my sleeve harder.
"Mister, are you a prince?"
"…No."
"A knight?"
"No."
"A criminal?"
"…That one feels weirdly accurate." I muttered with light chuckle.
Then suddenly—
"Children."
A calm voice cut through the chaos instantly.
Every child froze.
I slowly looked up.
A woman wearing simple black-and-white nun clothing stood near the entrance stairs.
Silver hair tied neatly behind her back.
Sharp blue eyes.
Tall.
Beautiful in an elegant, intimidating way.
And judging by the immediate silence around her—
Dangerous.
"Breakfast time was twenty minutes ago," she said calmly.
The children immediately scattered in panic.
"Sister Marianne is angry!"
"RUN!"
Within seconds, the yard emptied completely.
I stared blankly.
"…Impressive."
The woman sighed softly before turning toward me.
Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Damian Valtor."
Ah.
She knew me.
Not surprising.
At this point my scandals were probably continent-wide entertainment.
I awkwardly cleared my throat slightly.
"…Good morning."
The nun stared at me silently.
"…You sound disappointed to be here."
"…That obvious?"
"Yes."
Fair enough.
She slowly walked closer.
Meanwhile, Sister Marianne calmly extended a document toward me.
"Community service assignment confirmation."
Ah.
Right.
Reality.
I accepted the paper slowly.
She glanced at me briefly before speaking again.
"You will work here five days a week until your punishment hours are completed."
"…Understood."
"You will clean."
My soul weakened slightly.
"You will cook."
My noble instincts screamed.
"You will assist with repairs."
I almost fainted.
"And," she finished calmly, "you will help supervise the children."
Silence.
Then—
"…Can I just fight a dragon instead?"
"No."
"…Damn."