journey towards the northen duke

I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the question. Everything had gone exactly as I had planned. Every step, every move—carefully orchestrated to lead to this moment.

I let my mind drift back, tracing the events that had brought me here. When had I truly begun planning? Was it after I met Jane, or had the wheels been in motion long before my arrival?

No, the truth reached further back than anyone might suspect. From the very start, I had been the one pulling the strings. Every detail, every decision—it had all been part of my strategy. Because I, Yoon Seon, was the mastermind behind the entire scheme to bring down the thieves.

I traced my thoughts back to the day it all began. Was it just a few days or months before? No—it was exactly 11 months and 5 days ago when the plan first took shape.

Excitement coursed through me. How could it not? Nearly a year of relentless effort, careful calculations, and unwavering determination had led me here. And now, I stood on the brink of success.

Oh my, oh my… my intuition was spot on.

Captain Jane has a soft spot for abused kids. A really soft spot.

But now that I think about it… why did he believe I was innocent so easily? Was it my fake trembling voice? The way I mixed truth with lies? Or was it just my pitiful appearance?

Whichever it was, it worked.

I had taken a huge risk baiting myself like that, and the fear of failure had gnawed at me. But now? Now, I had the perfect shield—a man who willingly wants to act as my bodyguard. What an honor.

Of course, it was mostly because of my age. He never even suspected me. What if he knew the truth? That I orchestrated this entire situation just to cross paths with him? That I pulled the strings to make him notice me?

That would be… devastating.

Because no matter how smart I am, I can't outrun the physical limits of an adult. If he turned against me, my plan would collapse.

I can't waste my efforts now.

I need to reach the barracks as soon as possible. At first, I thought he would just smuggle me out of sight, maybe hide me in a nearby city. That would have been fine—I would've bided my time, slipped away, and lived quietly somewhere, free and comfortable.

But this?

This is better.

24/7 bodyguards. Unlimited food. No need to constantly watch my back.

Oh my, oh my… I never considered this option.

It all began a year ago.

That summer evening had been like any other. As usual, I was slipping away from the prayer hall, moving quietly through the orphanage grounds, searching for food to steal. But that night, fate had something else in store for me.

Just as I was about to make my way inside, I froze. My eyes locked onto the dean and the nanny, their figures silhouetted under the dim lights. They were carrying someone—no, not just anyone, but an unconscious girl.

I instinctively pressed myself against the wall, peeking carefully toward their direction. My heart pounded as I watched them load her into a van. Then, I noticed him. A tall man with a deep scar slashed across his face and a missing thumb on his right hand. He stepped forward, handing over a stack of money to the nanny before climbing into the vehicle. Moments later, the van rumbled to life and disappeared into the night.

I knew something was wrong. Without hesitation, I scaled the nearby pipeline, my hands gripping tightly as I pulled myself onto the rooftop. Moving swiftly, I crept toward the edge, positioning myself above where the nanny and the dean stood. Flattening against the warm tiles, I held my breath and listened.

Flattened against the rooftop, I strained to hear their conversation, my breath shallow as I focused on their words.

"The effects of our medicine have started to improve," the nanny said, her tone disturbingly casual. "Previously, it took two hours to brainwash the children into obeying our new rules, but now it only takes one hour."

My stomach twisted. Brainwashing? What the hell were they doing?

"But," she continued, her voice laced with concern, "the casualties have also increased due to the drug's effects. Children with low immunity are dying rapidly. If they all perish too quickly, how will we find suitable subjects for our experiments again?"

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. A cold fury settled in my chest. They were using the orphans— people—as lab rats. Experimenting on them like disposable objects.

I didn't know the details yet, but one thing was certain. they harming us.

I pressed myself closer to the rooftop, barely believing what I was hearing.

"Do not worry about that," the dean said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "Soon, we will receive a new batch of subjects."

A chill ran down my spine.

"A particularly affluent client has made a deal with us," he continued. "If we can provide a drug with at least 70% efficacy, he will supply us with 40 suitable experimental subjects each year. This could significantly expedite our process."

I gritted my teeth, rage building inside me. They were trading lives like commodities, reducing the children to nothing more than test subjects.

"Even if these children die," the dean went on, "no one will notice, as we administer the drugs to them daily. They are unable to recognize the disappearance of their friends. We have been operating this orphanage for 15 years, and this is a tremendous opportunity for us."

My breath caught in my throat.

Fifteen years. How many had already suffered? How many had already died?

I clenched my fists so tightly they trembled. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to act, to do something—anything—but I forced myself to stay still. Rushing in now would accomplish nothing.

I needed a plan.

And when the time came, I would make them pay.

As I remained hidden, the nanny and dean continued their animated discussion, their voices brimming with excitement over the drug's success. I couldn't make sense of most of what they said, but one thing became painfully clear: I had to stop eating the orphanage's food—at least for now.

Slowly, I eased myself off the rooftop, using the pipelines to climb down as quietly as possible. My heart pounded in my chest, every movement deliberate. When my feet finally touched the ground, I exhaled softly and slipped back into the dormitory.

That night, I forced myself to go to sleep hungry. The gnawing emptiness in my stomach was nothing compared to the unease curling in my gut.

When morning came, I turned to my side, expecting to see the boy who had slept beside me. But his bed was empty. Not just empty—gone. The entire thing had vanished.

I sat up, scanning the room. "Where's Jihoon?" I asked, my voice hushed but firm.

The others stared at me blankly.

"Who?" one of them asked.

"Jihoon," I repeated, glancing at the space where his bed should have been. "The kid who slept right here."

They exchanged confused looks.

"There was never a Jihoon," one of them said, shaking his head.

A chill ran through me. I knew what I had seen. I had talked to him, laughed with him, shared stolen snacks. He had been real.

But now… it was as if he had never existed.

I went the entire day without eating, ignoring the sharp pangs of hunger twisting inside me. If the food was laced with something—something that could erase memories—I wasn't going to risk it.

By evening, my body felt weak, but my mind remained sharp. I had to stay alert.

Then, I heard footsteps.

Recognizing the dean's voice, I quickly shut my eyes and steadied my breathing. The dormitory door creaked open.

"—progressing faster than expected," the dean muttered.

I kept still as he and the nanny stepped inside, their conversation continuing in hushed tones.

I forced myself to remain motionless. Listening. Waiting.

Lying still on my bed, I fought to keep my breathing slow and steady, every muscle in my body tense.

"Dean," the nanny's voice broke the silence. "Two of the subjects have died. Look at this girl—after increasing the dosage, their bodies are turning blue before they perish within two hours."

My stomach twisted, but I didn't dare move.

"Today, in the prayer hall, I observed all the students. These two were the ones who turned blue. We must transport them immediately; we need to extract the heart and liver before they begin to decompose."

My breath hitched. Extract? My mind raced, but I forced myself to stay motionless, listening intently.

The dean stepped closer. I could hear his steady breathing as he examined the bodies.

"Hold on, let me examine them first." A pause, then a murmur of approval. "Hmm. Their brains are dead, but their hearts are still functioning."

He let out a low, exhilarated chuckle. "This is promising," he exhaled excitedly. "Our hard work is yielding results. Come quickly—we need to transport them."

My fingers twitched against the mattress. Results? This wasn't research. This was slaughter.

The nanny hesitated. "Dean, why must we handle this ourselves? We could assign the task to other workers at the orphanage."

I could almost hear the smirk in his response.