Chapter 21. Another Purpose

The employee from Livre Bookstore guided me to the Arabek Appraisal House.

The appraisal house had undergone a transformation. It seemed Yona had been inspired by Livre’s festive year-end decorations.

White elephant mobiles no bigger than a fist and golden ribbons now adorned the high ceiling, making it resemble a sky filled with shooting stars.

As I stood dazed, gazing up at the transformed space, I was gently nudged toward the elevator I had used during my last visit.

“Alright, going up!”

Announced the Livre employee cheerfully.

* * *

Yona’s room on the top floor hadn’t changed. Then again, even if something had, I doubted I’d notice.

‘A complete pigsty… a house hit by a bomb…’

It reminded me of my room during my bout with depression. But unlike me back then, Yona seemed perfectly sound, both mentally and physically.

Yona and Ralpido sat on the same long sofa. They didn’t even look at each other, seated at a right angle as if the sight of one another was unbearable.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Ralpido,” I said awkwardly.

Ralpido, startled, glared at Yona.

“You didn’t tell her I was coming?”

“Why bother?”

“Ugh. Let me apologize for this rude punk.”

She grumbled and gave Yona’s shin a sharp kick before continuing.

“I had some matters to settle with this guy, so I came along. Besides, I wanted to see something for myself. Young lady, they say you carry royal blood?”

“…I didn’t expect Yona to tell you.”

I flinched slightly, but considering their close relationship, it wasn’t surprising that my story had reached Ralpido. I couldn’t even blame Yona; I hadn’t specifically asked him to keep it a secret.

“Well, now you’ve learned—it’s in your best interest not to trust a mage.”

“True. I’m disappointed in you, Yona.”

“What did you say?!”

Before Yona could leap to his feet, Ralpido smacked his thigh with a randomly discarded magic staff.

“Don’t worry. Unlike this guy, I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“What about the item I requested?”

“Ah, business first. That’s how it should be.”

At her snap, an employee appeared with a stack of documents.

Ralpido handed me the papers one by one, explaining their contents thoroughly. Finally, she handed me a coin-shaped ID.

It resembled the traditional Korean currency *Sangpyeong Tongbo* I’d seen in history books, with a square hole in the center of the circular coin. Around the square were magical inscriptions engraved clockwise.

“This is…”

My new identity.

Myrda.

I swallowed nervously as I reached for the ID. But just as my hand got close, Ralpido pulled it back slightly.

“There’s one last step, young lady.”

“The last… step?”

Yona, who had remained silent, placed a small knife on the low table. Its purpose was obvious.

“This requires blood, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly. Just prick your thumb, then trace the symbols in a circle. Once you do, it’ll be legally valid. If you’re afraid of getting hurt…”

“I’ll do it.”

I grabbed the knife, which looked like a child’s toy, and sliced my thumb without hesitation.

“Ah…”

Dark crimson blood welled up quickly. I glanced at Ralpido.

“Pass it here.”

“Oh… right.”

Ralpido, briefly looking dazed, furrowed her brows and handed over the ID.

Following her instructions, I smeared my blood along the circular symbols. The magic circle glowed faintly red before absorbing all the blood.

“…Is it done? Can I use it now?”

“Yes. You’re braver than I expected.”

“Let me see that.”

Yona suddenly interjected. His sharp tone and raised eyebrows made his already intimidating face look even harsher.

“What?”

“Your hand. Let me see it.”

I was sitting a short distance away, but Yona closed the gap in an instant and grabbed my wrist.

“Ah, wait…!”

“Wait for what?”

Clicking his tongue, Yona mumbled words I couldn’t understand. Then, a tingling sensation spread from my thumb.

“…!”

The wound healed in seconds. I knew Yona was a mage, but I hadn’t expected him to go out of his way for something so trivial.

“Thank you.”

“Hmph. Just making sure you don’t pass out again from anemia. There’s no cozy bed to lay you down on here.”

“…”

Yona, always managing to ruin the moment with his words.

I set my teacup on the table with a soft clink. There was still one more thing I needed to address.

“And… I’d like to buy some information from you, Ralpido.”

Ralpido looked as though she had expected this all along. After all, how much does someone need when starting fresh with a new identity?

She crossed her legs comfortably and tilted her chin upward.

“What do you want?”

“A list of orphanages that the Marchioness of Ivelucia regularly visits for volunteer work.”

“Oh ho, is that so?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits, her amusement evident.

“Well, well, young lady. Trying to pull some strings to get into the Academy, are you?”

She was as sharp as ever. Meanwhile, Yona, oblivious to the conversation, kept pestering her with, “What? What’s going on?”

“As you mentioned before, it’s difficult for a commoner to gain admission to the Academy on money and talent alone.”

The Academy’s barriers were nearly insurmountable for someone like me. Although it prided itself on “educational opportunities for all,” and promised to admit at least one commoner per year, there was a catch: the applicant needed a letter of recommendation from a renowned scholar.

But “renowned” wasn’t enough. Only someone like the Marchioness of Ivelucia, who donated astronomical sums to the Academy every year, could issue such a recommendation letter.

Still, what kind of commoner could possibly earn the favor of the Marchioness? Even if someone managed to secure the letter, the Academy would always find a reason to reject them. As a result, the number of commoners admitted since the Academy’s founding could be counted on one hand.

To make matters worse, the Marchioness had stopped issuing recommendations altogether after being betrayed by a promising talent she had once supported.

‘Don’t rush. Be prepared to invest time in this.’

I couldn’t let it seem like I was approaching her solely for the recommendation. That’s why I decided to target the Marchioness first.

Thanks to the original novel, I knew the Marchioness of Ivelucia volunteered at orphanages. However, she kept her identity discreet, bringing only two trusted aides and operating under an alias.

‘In *Bitten by a Mad Dog*, she spent a long time volunteering at various orphanages. She must have a pattern.’

“Not a bad strategy,” Ralpido remarked, her tone teasing. “Going after the wife of the famously devoted Marchioness of Ivelucia… But don’t think she’s an easy target.”

“I’m aware.”

“Bold of you.”

“…Thank you.”

I asked how much I’d need to pay for the information. Ralpido exchanged a few whispered words with Yona, their foreheads nearly touching. For all their bickering, they seemed to get along suspiciously well during moments like these.

Finally, Ralpido slapped her palm against her knee.

“The price is settled.”

“Pardon?”

Yona pursed his lips, muttering under his breath.

“That greedy thief is going to bleed me dry.”

“No, Yona doesn’t have to take on the cost…”

“Think of it as compensation for my slip-up.”

Ralpido interrupted. “For spilling the beans about your, uh, royal bloodline.”

“My…?”

Yona whipped his head toward her, his temper flaring.

“She means your ‘royal’ lineage, you crazy witch. Where in the world did she even dig that up?!”

❖　❖　❖

Marcel, the head of Rooney Orphanage, paused her tedious paperwork to think about a recent blessing that had come her way.

That blessing had walked right through the orphanage gates, donating 1,000 etar and saying, “I’d like to volunteer.”

It wasn’t an enormous amount of money. That was Marcel’s first thought. But after taking a closer look at the young woman who introduced herself as “Myrda,” Marcel realized she wasn’t the daughter of some noble family. That realization prompted Marcel to remove her magnifying glasses and properly assess Myrda.

Having worked here for so long, Marcel couldn’t help but feel wary of noblewomen who showed up with a few coins and a sudden interest in helping out. Unless they were someone like the Marchioness of Ivelucia, who visited regularly, it was hard to trust their sincerity.

Perhaps it was prejudice, but it was hard to avoid when you’ve experienced the fleeting charity of the privileged firsthand.

Still, Marcel welcomed Myrda with a relatively open heart. It was unfortunate that the young woman wasn’t physically stronger, but she never shied away from any difficult task, no matter how dirty or tiresome.

What’s more, Myrda often brought seasonal fruit, a rare treat for the orphanage where fresh produce was hard to come by. She would also bring various supplies, claiming to have “come across them somewhere.” The items always seemed perfectly tailored to the orphanage’s needs, as if Myrda truly understood the practicalities of running such a place.

“She’s a remarkable young woman,” Marcel mused.

On one corner of her desk sat meringue cookies and a special tea Myrda had distributed to the orphanage staff just days ago. Smiling warmly, Marcel took a sip of the tea, and her eyes widened in astonishment.

“What… what is this…?”