Wind cut through the streets like a knife. Winter always came early in the Holy Kingdom, and the wind in Ashstone Town was as sharp as a blade.
Victor no longer spent his days in a daze, begging for food everywhere.
Ever since he promised Shirley he would live well, it was as if he had suddenly grown several years older.
He started looking for odd jobs in this dirt-poor little town to earn some money.
Truth be told, there wasn’t much to choose from.
The legitimate shops in town wouldn’t even consider taking in a kid with no known background. The moment workshop masters saw his filthy clothes, they waved him away.
Victor didn’t get angry. He couldn’t be bothered to beg them anyway.
He knew in his heart—he had plenty of strength and knew the roads well. Why should he have to grovel?
After wandering alone for so long, he knew every alley and shortcut in town like the back of his hand.
Which house had a biting dog, which wall was easy to climb, which backyard door was never locked—he had it all figured out.
So he took up courier work.
At first, not many people hired him.
The townsfolk thought he was too young to trust with valuable items.
Victor didn’t rush. For the first few days, he just squatted at the market entrance, helping old ladies who couldn’t carry their groceries, and delivering tools home for the blacksmith when he was drunk.
After a while, people noticed that although the kid was shabbily dressed, he never lost anything and was quite reliable.
“Victor, take this letter to the mayor’s house. Two copper coins for you.”
“Victor, deliver this bag of herbs to the apothecary. Hurry up, don’t spill any!”
Work gradually picked up.
Sometimes he would run seven or eight errands in a single morning until his calves ached, but Victor never complained.
He tucked each copper coin into his pocket, listening to them clink together, and felt at ease.
That sound of copper was far better than the growling of his empty stomach when the wind blew in the old days.
Just as dawn was breaking, the golden-haired, blue-eyed boy would dash through the winding alleys of Ashstone Town.
He ran fast as the wind, and even when carrying heavy goods, his azure eyes shone with a light he had never had before—the light of hope.
And Shirley, from the monastery, saw all of this.
Every morning, as Victor shouldered his pack and prepared to leave, a small head would always peek out from under the old locust tree by the monastery’s side gate.
In her hand, Shirley clutched a piece of dark rye bread wrapped in cloth.
It was her breakfast that she had secretly saved.
She used to eat her own portion clean down to the last crumb. But ever since she learned Victor had to work early in the morning, she couldn’t force it down anymore.
Every morning while nibbling her bread, she would think about whether Victor had anything to eat, and the bread would turn dry and tasteless. So she just tucked it away.
“Brother Victor!”
Seeing that familiar figure passing by, Shirley jumped out like a little rabbit and blocked his path.
“Running errands is really tiring. You have to eat.”
She shoved the bread into Victor’s hand, her gaze firm, with an expression that clearly said, ‘If you don’t eat it, I won’t let you go.’
Her little face was red from the cold, making Victor’s throat tighten.
Inside, she was actually panicking, afraid that Victor would think she was being a nuisance, or that the bread was too hard for him to bite. But she gritted her teeth and put on a fierce look.
Victor looked at the warm bread in his hand, then at Shirley’s stubborn little face, her lips pressed tight.
“I’m not hungry, Shirley. You eat it!”
He instinctively wanted to refuse.
The truth was, he was hungry—he just felt embarrassed.
A grown boy letting a little girl save her own breakfast for him every day? What kind of nonsense was that?
“No!”
Shirley puffed out her cheeks, pretending to be angry as she glared at him.
“You’re a man. You need strength!”
“Mother Superior says if you skip breakfast, you’ll get sick.”
Her voice grew quieter as she spoke, and her eyes turned a little red.
“I don’t mind going hungry. I’m chubby!”
“But you run so much every day. I’m scared you’ll collapse on the road!”
Victor paused, looking at Shirley’s earnest little face, and couldn’t help but smile.
“Alright, I’ll eat it now.”
He tore open the cloth wrapper and wolfed down the bread.
The dry, hard bread scraped his throat, but he felt it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.
He even thought, ‘If only I could have bread from her every morning…’
The moment that thought popped into his head, it startled even himself.
Seeing Victor finish every last bite, Shirley smiled with satisfaction, waved her hand, and skipped back into the monastery.
***
Day after day, Victor’s pockets gradually began to fill with savings.
A month later.
Victor wiped the sweat from his forehead and counted the crumpled copper coins in his hand.
Fifty copper coins in total.
To a child raised in the slums, that was a fortune.
He had never even dreamed he could save so much.
If it weren’t for the thick calluses on his soles from running all day, he might have thought he was dreaming.
That day, after delivering his last order, he passed through the town market.
At an inconspicuous stall, his eyes suddenly fixed on something.
It was a holy light cross ornament.
Very small, no bigger than his thumb. It was made of silvery-white metal, polished to a smooth shine.
It wasn’t as dazzling as the giant golden crosses in the church.
Under the winter sunlight, it reflected a pure, soft glow.
Just like…
Just like Shirley’s eyes.
Victor stopped in his tracks, walking over as if possessed.
“Boss, how much is this?”
His voice came out a little hoarse.
He was actually nervous—dead afraid he couldn’t afford it, and also afraid someone would see a poor kid like him even asking about such things.
The stall owner, a shrewd middle-aged man, glanced at him.
“Thirty-five copper coins.”
Thirty-five copper coins.
Victor’s hand tightened in his pocket.
That was a month’s worth of endless running and sweating, the bulk of his entire savings.
His heart pounded. His mind raced with calculations—thirty-five coins could buy him half a month’s worth of meals.
If he bought this, he could still get by a few days with the rest. At worst, he would go home hungry after delivering goods and just sleep it off.
Every nun at the monastery wore a heavy golden cross around her neck—a symbol of status.
But Shirley didn’t have one.
Mother Superior said it was because Shirley was underage and hadn’t received her formal baptism, so she couldn’t wear one.
But Victor knew the real reason: Shirley simply couldn’t afford one, and Mother Superior wasn’t willing to spend money on her.
The nuns talked about charity, but whenever they looked at Shirley, there was always an indescribable hint of disdain in their eyes.
‘If she wore this, she would look so beautiful.’
‘She’s not a nun, but she’s more like an angel than those gossiping nuns.’
‘I want to give this to her in advance.’
Without a second thought, Victor pulled out the warm copper coins from his pocket, counted out thirty-five, and slapped them hard on the table.
“I’ll take it.”
The owner looked at the ragged boy in surprise.
“Are you crazy?”
“That’s thirty-five copper coins. Enough for several full meals.”
“Kid, what are you buying this for?”
“Who are you giving it to?”
Victor ignored his surprise.
He carefully picked up the silvery-white cross, wiped the dust off with his sleeve, and then tucked it reverently into his inner pocket.
In his mind, he was already thinking about how to give it to Shirley the next time he saw her.
‘If I just hand it to her, I’ll scare her. If I put it in her bread, she might accidentally eat it…’
At that thought, Victor couldn’t help but laugh to himself.
Even though his pocket was empty, his heart was full.
That happiness was a hundred times stronger than the feeling of having a full stomach.
He turned around, leaving the market behind, and bounded like the wind toward the monastery.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long behind him, his steps light as if dancing.
‘Shirley, wait for me.’
‘When I earn more money, I’ll buy you the prettiest dress, the biggest, brightest cross. I’ll give you the best things in the whole world.’