Olivia stood in the middle of the street, her hands tightening slightly around the small bags she carried.
She had already sent the notice to bring Max back.
Still, her chest refused to settle.
A week.
The thought alone irritated her.
Too slow.
If Nura hadn’t stopped her earlier, Olivia knew she would have gone to the academy herself without caring about appearances or distance.
Her fingers curled tighter around the bags.
“…I need to do something,” she muttered quietly.
Then she suddenly turned.
“Nura.”
Nura hurried closer immediately.
“Yes, Grand Duchess?”
“Let’s go somewhere else first,” Olivia said quickly.
“I need to buy something for Max.”
Nura blinked in surprise.
Olivia looked away briefly before continuing, clearly uncomfortable with what she was trying to say.
“You were the one taking care of him all this time,” she admitted stiffly.
“You probably know what he likes better than I do.”
The words sounded awkward coming from her mouth, almost forced.
But honest.
After a short pause, she added more quietly—
“…Help me choose properly.”
Nura stared at her for a second before smiling softly.
“Yes,” she said gently.
“Of course.”
The market streets were crowded and noisy, but Olivia barely paid attention.
Inside the toy shop, she stood silently in front of the shelves, staring at rows of wooden swords, books, figures, and toys with visible frustration.
“What do boys his age usually like?” she asked suddenly.
Nura looked thoughtful.
“Young Master Max likes sword stories.
And puzzles sometimes.”
Olivia immediately picked up three different puzzle sets.
Then five more.
Then several wooden swords.
Then books.
Nura watched quietly before finally asking, “…Grand Duchess, how many are you planning to buy?”
Olivia frowned slightly, looking genuinely dissatisfied.
“…I don’t know what he actually wants.”
The answer came too quickly.
Like the thought had been bothering her for a while already.
Her gaze lowered briefly.
“I don’t know anything about him.”
For a moment, something tense crossed her expression before disappearing again.
Then she looked toward the shop owner calmly.
“I’ll take everything on this side.”
The shop owner froze.
Nura sighed softly, though there was amusement in her eyes now.
Olivia ignored both reactions completely.
If she couldn’t figure out what Max liked—
Then she would simply buy enough until something made him smile.
After leaving the shop, Olivia walked more slowly.
Then suddenly, she stopped.
Her gaze shifted toward a weapon store nearby.
Swords lined the walls behind the glass.
Olivia stared quietly.
A distant memory surfaced.
Training grounds.
Sweat.
Laughter.
The satisfaction of mastering movement after movement.
Before marriage.
Before she started reshaping herself into someone quieter.
Softer.
More “proper.”
More acceptable.
For Lucas.
Her expression dimmed slightly.
She had abandoned many things trying to become someone lovable.
And in the end—
Lucas never looked at her anyway.
Nura stepped beside her quietly.
“If you want Young Master Max to be happy,” she said softly, “then you should stop abandoning yourself too.”
Olivia stayed silent.
Her eyes remained fixed on the swords.
Then, slowly, she stepped inside the store.
Her fingers brushed lightly against one of the practice swords.
Familiar.
Comforting.
“…I used to like this,” she murmured quietly, almost sounding surprised by the realization herself.
Nura smiled faintly.
“You loved it.”
Olivia paused.
Then after a moment, she bought the sword.
Not as a gift.
Not for appearances.
But because for the first time in years, she wanted something for herself again.
As they walked back through the streets, Olivia suddenly slowed.
A sound.
Faint.
Wrong.
Her expression sharpened immediately.
“…Did you hear that?”
Before Nura could answer, Olivia was already moving toward a narrow alley nearby.
“Wait here,” she ordered calmly.
The moment she stepped inside, her gaze darkened.
Several older men surrounded a small child on the ground.
Black hair.
Blue eyes.
Too small.
One of the men raised his arm again—
“Stop.”
Olivia’s voice cut sharply through the alley.
Cold.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
The men froze instantly.
Her guards moved without hesitation, dragging them away violently.
But Olivia barely looked at them.
Her attention stayed on the child lying motionless on the ground.
Small.
Thin.
Bruised.
For one painful second, Max’s face overlapped with his in her mind.
Her chest tightened hard.
“…Bring him carefully,” Olivia said immediately, her voice lower now.
“We’re taking him home.”
Back at the mansion, the child was placed in a guest room while the doctor examined him.
“He’ll recover,” the doctor said eventually.
“But he’s severely undernourished.”
Olivia nodded once.
Her eyes never left the bed.
After everyone else left, silence filled the room.
Olivia sat beside the child quietly, watching his sleeping face.
How long has he been living like this?
The thought sat heavily in her chest.
She wasn’t someone who cried easily anymore.
Most emotions stayed buried too deep for that.
But something about seeing children hurt always unsettled her now.
Maybe because every frightened child reminded her of Max.
Behind her, Nura watched silently from the doorway.
The Olivia sitting there now felt strangely familiar.
Not the distant Grand Duchess everyone knew.
But the girl Nura used to know long ago.
The one who cared too deeply and hid it badly.
A small smile crossed Nura’s face before she quietly left the room.
Sometime during the night, the child stirred weakly.
“…Mom…”
Olivia immediately looked up.
For a second, her expression changed completely.
Not composed.
Not calm.
Just startled.
She leaned closer instinctively and grabbed his hand before realizing what she was doing.
“I’m here,” she said quickly.
Too quickly.
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Then she froze slightly.
Mom.
The word echoed painfully in her chest.
Had Max called for her like this too?
When he was sick?
When he was scared?
Olivia lowered her gaze immediately, her grip tightening unconsciously around the child’s hand.
“…Sorry,” she whispered quietly.
The apology wasn’t even directed clearly anymore.
To Max.
To this child.
Maybe both.
Exhaustion eventually pulled her to sleep beside the bed, still holding onto his hand.
The next morning, the child woke slowly.
His blue eyes moved around the unfamiliar room before stopping on Olivia sleeping beside him.
Still holding his hand.
He stared silently.
Confused.
Careful.
Then slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and touched a strand of her hair.
Olivia woke almost immediately.
The moment she saw him awake, relief crossed her face before she quickly hid it behind composure again.
“You’re awake.”
She leaned forward and placed a hand against his forehead automatically.
Then paused.
Realizing she might be making him uncomfortable.
“…Sorry,” she said awkwardly, pulling her hand back slightly.
“I was checking your fever.”
The boy stared at her silently before speaking quietly.
“Why are you helping me?”
Olivia blinked once.
“I don’t have anything,” he continued carefully.
“So you don’t need anything from me.”
The words made something tighten sharply inside her chest.
That cautious look.
That expectation of conditions.
She knew it too well.
Olivia stared at him for a moment before reaching forward and lightly pinching his cheek.
The gesture looked oddly stiff, like she wasn’t used to doing things like this.
“I’m not helping you because I want something,” she said quietly.
Then after a short pause, she added—
“…You’re a child.
That’s enough reason.”
The boy blinked slowly.
“There are only two things you need to do here,” Olivia continued.
He tensed slightly.
“First, eat properly.”
“…What?”
“Second…” Olivia hesitated briefly, clearly uncomfortable saying the next words aloud.
Then she forced herself to continue anyway.
“…Try to live comfortably.”
It wasn’t “be happy.”
That sentence felt too exposed somehow.
Too vulnerable.
But the meaning was still there.
The boy stared at her silently.
“What’s your name?” Olivia asked.
“…Mike.”
“How old are you?”
“Eight.”
Olivia frowned immediately.
“You’re too thin for eight.”
The words came out sounding colder than she intended.
She sighed quietly afterward.
“…You should be healthier.”
Mike stared at her carefully.
Then Olivia spoke again after a pause.
“My son is older than you by one year.”
Mike looked up.
“His name is Max.”
The way she said his name changed slightly.
Softer.
Without realizing it, Olivia’s expression eased.
“He’s quiet,” she continued.
“Stubborn sometimes too.”
A very small smile appeared briefly at the corner of her lips.
“But… gentle.”
Mike noticed immediately.
That expression didn’t look fake.
People around him smiled falsely all the time.
This wasn’t like that.
“…He’s lucky,” Mike said quietly before he could stop himself.
Olivia looked at him.
Mike immediately looked away, embarrassed.
But Olivia stayed silent for a moment before speaking softly.
“…No.”
Mike blinked.
“I think,” Olivia said slowly, almost like she was still figuring the words out herself, “I’m the lucky one.”
The room fell quiet again.
But not uncomfortable.
Not cold.
And for the first time in a very long time—
Mike didn’t feel afraid of silence anymore