Resetting Lady

04. A funeral in which no one weeps

“…Lastly, I, as the judge, would like to thank His Lordship, the Fief Lord—no, the father of the young lady who had suffered so much from an unsavory situation.”

The judge took off his black cap and bowed towards the fief lord.

Tom, who had just been watching the ants crawling on the floor, realized that the boring procedure was finally over. A thunderous round of applause filled the courtroom. Tom thoughtlessly clapped as well, but he came to his senses and realized that this was not the time for that, so he stopped.

He wasn’t allowed to be swayed by this atmosphere. Although it was just a small presiding judge’s courtroom, there were still about thirty people who attended this trial. It’s like there’s a festival inside this place. Everyone was smiling in excitement.

The ruling was clear. Two men made an attempted robbery and murder against the fief lord’s daughter who lost her way. A young nobleman saw this as he happened to pass by, and thus he exacted justice upon those crooks. Here, the judge was the fief lord and the defendant was the young nobleman.

The judgment for the crimes of Hans and Thomas, both deceased, ended in less than ten minutes, and subsequently, the judgment for Sir Raymond, the man who killed those two, had ended with the judge bowing his head towards him.

The audience was satisfied as justice had been served, whispering also about the young nobleman’s handsome countenance. The trial ended before lunch time, so they would continue to discuss what they saw here over their meals.

“Look at that, even though his father died, he isn’t even shedding a single tear.”

Thomas, the man who tried to sexually assault the fief lord’s daughter and had been killed by the knight, was Tom’s father.

“It’s a problem too if he cries. How can he, to His Lordship’s daughter… Gosh.”

“Well done, dying like that.”

He bowed his head as he heard those hushed words. He was nicknamed Tom because he had the same name as his father.

He was the son of a man who did well by dying.

To him, these words sounded like, ‘Why don’t you die soon, too?’ Perhaps the innermost thoughts of those people were not so far off.

“He didn’t say anything until the end, really a great job. How brave.”

Was it brave not to say anything? Tom wanted to know the answer, but what was more important to him now was what the gentleman could give him. What he received before the trial was not enough—just one piece of candy. The gentleman acted as though it was a precious thing, but it was nothing for Tom, who worked every week for Dale, the bakery owner.

Tom knew for a fact that he was too old to be so happy about just one piece of candy. As the gavel rang three times and the audience spilled out of the presiding judge’s courtroom, Tom popped the candy into his mouth. It’s rather sweet. It tasted different from the hard sugar cubes that Dale sometimes put in his mouth.

The gentleman said that Tom should stay still throughout the trial. He told the child to eat the candy if he got bored, then said that he’d give Tom a reward if he’d be good. So, he behaved himself because of these words. He’d be able to receive his reward now.

Tom was confident in holding himself back for as long as there was a reward.

“Is it over now, sir?”

“Yes. Here.”

A sparkling gold coin fell into Tom’s palms. Tom fiddled with the gold coin, which he had never ever seen before. With one gloved hand, the gentleman covered Tom’s hands to close his fingers over the coin.

“Don’t show it to others.”

And with the other hand, he gripped Tom tightly.

“You have to live alone from now on.”

* * *

“Tom, Tom, are you there?”

It was a familiar voice. Tom hurriedly finished his work and glanced up. The bakery owner huffed and pushed Tom roughly to get him to dress up.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked.

The one who came in was Rona, Hans’ wife. Living with bruises on her face all the time, she sometimes called Tom over to complain or to give him some thin, watery soup. Whenever Tom saw her, he wondered if she was similar to his mother who ran away. Rona was practically in the same situation as Thomas’ wife, so that thought wasn’t wrong.

“Did you drop your bread?”

He didn’t want to share any of his today because there wasn’t enough. Tom sneakily hid his bread under the table. The bakery owner disappeared through the back door. Still, Tom had been given the payment for his work, so it was a relief.

“No, Tom. Something big happened.”

His father died.

Rona did not attend the trial. Thomas and Hans were supposed to be here as the defendants, but they couldn’t. Their heads had holes in them after all.

So a gentleman wearing a fedora came to pick up Tom and told him that someone had to stand trial.

“He’s your father, right?”

Tom left the courtroom. The sky was clear and blue. Nine years old wasn’t a bad age to start working.

If one were to go to the city, everyone there was working. And really, it wasn’t only in cities but also in villages. Larry from the house below and even Carey, the blacksmith’s son, were both also working. Tom was the only one who wasn’t.

‘But I’m too weak.’

His father Thomas was a good-for-nothing, so no one paid Tom to do work. If Tom were to make a mistake, it would be difficult to get any compensation from Thomas.

Still, he couldn’t just play. At the back alley, only children who were under the age of five played. Nine years old was too old of an age to still play. That’s why Tom eventually started work by doing whatever Rona was doing.

Now that his father had died, he wondered if Rona would take him in, but when she announced that Thomas and her husband had died, she was so excited. She even said that she’d live with the old blacksmith now.

“Don’t act like you know me, please.”

“Okay. Congratulations, Rona.”

He congratulated Rona. What he learned from Rona was that, even though he was weak, he at least was quick to grasp reality. There was not much that the boy could do, given his thin arms and a terrible father.

While he could work like this now because he was still young, once he got taller, once his voice got deeper and once his beard started to grow, it was clear that it wouldn’t be the same.

Rona worked at the pub and she said that the pay she received didn’t go lower than five silver coins, however, no one would give that kind of money to a little boy.

Instead of money, people paid Tom with bread, a little salt, or they’d say that it’s as good as payment for Thomas and Hans’ liquor tab.

For the first time ever, it wasn’t bread or salt or liquor that he’s holding—it’s money. This weight in his hand lifted his spirits. If this was the reward for being quiet for a little while, then he could be quiet for as long as it was required of him.

But how many opportunities like this would he have in the future?

Thomas was dead now.

“Excuse me, Mister.”

“Hm?”

“What do I do now?”

Tom reached up to hold the gentleman’s hand. His father was dead. He tried to rape the fief lord’s daughter. Tom would have to desperately try to survive like a child in the streets.

“What do you mean, you have to live alone of course. Didn’t I tell you just now?”

The gentleman made a face and tried to shove away Tom’s hand. But Tom hung on tighter.

He would be in trouble starting as early as tonight. Without his father, he had already seen countless people who wouldn’t even give even the minimum payment. Thomas was a good-for-nothing, but when Tom had grown weak, he went in front of the houses and yelled while breaking things.

Since his father’s death had been disclosed to so many people, Tom grew nervous. He didn’t know who’s going to come tonight. He should secretly hold his breath while hiding in the closet or in the brazier.

“I… I have nowhere to go, sir. I am also ill.”

“Oh my, Mister Whedor, the trial is over. Aren’t you going for lunch yet?”

The maid who did odd jobs for the judge saw the lawyer and expressed her concern.

“Ah, this boy… Thank you. Is this from His Lordship?”

“Yes, it was given to everyone out in the garden. Hey, you, have one too.”

“Ah… No, Mister Lawyer. Please, just please…”

The lawyer grunted, fixing his hat as he pushed Tom away.

“Sell the house you’re living in and go read the classified ads in the newspaper. That’s how everyone lives.”

“Sell the house? How can I do that?”

“Bring the necessary documents and… No, this isn’t my job. Go to the chief clerk of the neighborhood for this.”

“Mister!”

The gentleman strode towards the garden.

Sell the house? Chief clerk? Was he saying that he had to sell the house he was living in? Then what next? Where would he live? What would he eat? Would he be able to buy another house after selling the one he had?

His vision turned dark. The real world was much too complicated for a nine-year-old child.

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