"You little shit. Causing me all kinds of trouble," she muttered, cradling Nathan in her arms. He was wrapped snugly in a white gown—small, still, and warm. "We've got to get you out of here before I'm the one getting punished."
Her words were sharp, but her eyes said something else entirely. Nathan could see it clearly—she hated this place, not him. She was afraid for him, not of him. Her hands trembled slightly as she held him closer.
`I knew it. She doesn't do this job because it was her childhood dream,` he thought. `Good.`
He couldn't understand her language—not yet—but her gaze said everything. There was fear. Urgency. But also… empathy. And though he was still metaphorically sweating bullets, a sliver of relief crept in.
He had found someone who cared.
He could survive this.
If he stayed quiet, he might have a chance.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," she whispered, gently setting him down.
She grabbed her broom, ripped off the fabric mop head, and stuffed it into the bottom of her ash bucket.
"Don't worry, little shit," she muttered. "The ash bucket only burns if flesh touches the base. The mop'll protect you."
Then, carefully, she placed him on top of the makeshift cushion.
`I see… so the base must be enchanted.`
Curiosity stirred in him. With nothing else to do but lie still, he activated his Magic Gaze, peering through the layers to study the bottom of the bucket. The mop obscured some of the view, but faint runes were still visible—etched directly into the base.
`That formation… it breaks down biomatter, I assume. Definitely something to study later.`
Lost in thought, he barely noticed Anna covering him with tattered gowns—likely taken from the dead—until she lifted the bucket.
She didn't hesitate. She never did.
Anna moved with purpose. She acted on what she believed in, no matter the consequences. Status, risk, honor—none of it mattered unless she chose to care. And right now, she didn't.
Her master could punish her. He could hurt her husband, or anyone else he saw fit.
But none of that mattered right now.
Right now, she just wanted to carry something living out of these chambers of death.
Leaving the chamber, Anna walked briskly down the hall—a routine path for her, but a magical sight for Nathan. The corridor resembled the sterile tiles and white lights of the chamber he'd come from, but everything was grander. Cleaner. Luxurious.
Everyone else was busy working, and few were allowed down here anyway. So Anna moved unchallenged, up the stairwell that led to the estate's ground level—the floor where the house staff lived.
The scenery shifted.
Gone were the lifeless tiles and glaring lights. Now the floors gleamed with polished wood, the walls lined with rich colors, framed paintings, and soft golden sconces. This felt more like the noble mansion Nathan had expected.
He refrained from using his Magic Gaze again. His body was already drained, and these halls were likely information overload waiting to happen.
He noticed labels on the doors they passed—written in a language he'd never seen before.
Anna stopped in front of one, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
It was a modest room. A queen-sized bed. A wardrobe. A small makeup table with a mirror. A dinner table set for two. A writing desk. One large window let in the sunlight.
`House staff quarters, I'm guessing. Simple layout. Judging by the plates and cups, looks like two people live here.`
She placed the bucket down, lifted him out, and laid him softly on the bed.
Then she began to pace.
Tapping her foot. Scratching her scalp. Muttering to herself.
"Shit, shit, shit," she mumbled, then stopped, staring at Nathan. "I can't believe you survived. I can't believe you're so calm. I can't believe I'm so stupid!" Her voice rose with each word, nearly shouting at the end.
`She's stressed. Fair enough response,` Nathan thought. He stayed still. His role was simple: stay quiet, survive. Let her ramble.
"I can't give you to those fucks," she said, then caught herself. "Sorry. Right. You're a kid. Bad word."
She'd never been a mother. Had one, sure. But if her mom had the same foul mouth, she probably wasn't the best role model.
"Okay, so not the old researcher freak. Definitely not the Master. Maybe I sneak you out, drop you at an orphanage?" she paced harder. "No, wait. If they see you can use magic as a baby, they'll probably assume you're the devil or something… Idiots."
In Eldrasia, most people didn't develop their mana organs until they turned eighteen—when the body could safely handle the toxicity. Until then, the organ simply purified mana, not refined it.
While she paced and muttered, she also gestured and grimaced, giving Nathan a surprisingly clear picture of her thought process.
`Good,` he thought. `She's weighing her options. None of them sound viable. This might be my chance.`
"I could send you to my sister," she said, then paused. "But she lives far. I can't just… ship you in a box."
She actually hesitated.
Stared at him.
Considered the box.
"Ugh. Fine. No box," she grumbled, unable to imagine sending this quiet, strange baby into a dark container with no food or air.
"Shit… does that mean Edd and I are stuck raising you?"
She sighed. Hard. Resigned.
Nathan saw the crack in her resolve. The way she gestured toward herself, toward the room. She was seriously considering keeping him.
This was it.
His moment.
So, for the first time, he reacted. He timed it perfectly—right as she pointed at herself, he giggled and wriggled his little fingers.
Anna paused, narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head.
"Smart, aren't we?" she muttered, part suspicion, part… something else.
And without even realizing it, she started speaking to him like he understood. Like he was far more aware than an infant should be.
"Damn. Wrapped me around your little, cute, tiny finger already," she said softly.
She sighed again.
"Fine. You can stay."