Just yesterday, this child teetered on the edge of life and death, living a life where hunger or thirst might claim him at any moment. Yet today, he awoke to find himself quietly sipping water in peace...This feeling—Could it be called… happiness?
"Wuu~ giggle, hehehe~"
As the fool gazed in silence, the little one cradled in his arms also awoke. Six months old now, she had grown a soft tuft of hair, tinged with pink. Her emerald green eyes blinked open—the first thing she saw was sunlight streaming through the window, the second, the face of the person holding her.
"Wuu wuu~ wuuuu~"
The little bun began to cry, reaching out hesitantly with both hands, grasping aimlessly at the air. These faint and feeble movements soon stirred the pangs of hunger within her, and her soft whimpers grew into sobs.
"Oh~! Seems like our little princess is getting hungry! So, dear nanny, what will you do? As your sword, allow me to offer my sincerest advice: toss her into that well, seal the lid, and open it again this time next year. How's that sound?"
The fool ignored the voice, pulling open a dusty cupboard to retrieve a cracked and grime-covered bowl. At the sight, Xue Tong's expression turned to disappointment, and she scoffed, "Hmph, so that's the kind of person you are. Well then, enjoy your feeding."
After that, Anmie fell silent.
The fool laid the baby down gently, washed the bowl clean in a bucket, and then, after filling two more buckets, scrubbed the bowl until it gleamed inside and out. Finally, he scooped out a small bowl of water, cradled the little one in his arms again, and began to feed her, little by little.
Plain water might not be enough to satiate the baby's hunger. For an adult, it might be merely refreshing—but for a child, it was biting cold. She couldn't drink too much, so the fool let her take only a few sips before moving the bowl away. But with neither food nor more water to calm her hunger, the baby began crying again.
This flustered the fool. He set the bowl down and searched the room.
Two minutes later...
Still empty-handed, the fool drew the Anmie dagger, his eyes cold as he strode toward the door—off to search for food.
"Where are you going, fool?"
A familiar yet distant voice drifted into the room. At the door stood Headmaster Kampa, his towering figure appearing without warning. His gaze was locked on the fool's right arm, his expression icy and unreadable.
The fool stepped back, hiding the dagger behind him. His eyes brimmed with hostility—he didn't trust this man, not fully. Caution was the key to survival in the sewers, and it had kept him alive until now.
Kampa merely snorted and ignored the hidden weapon. Stepping inside, he extended his hand. In his palm lay a shriveled, paper-thin shard of something barely the size of a fingertip.
"This is compressed cereal. It's your food."
He placed the shard on the table and clasped his hands behind his back once more.
"You just need to soak it in water and it becomes edible. But I have no reason to give you food for free. This piece will barely make you half a breakfast. Eat quickly—only with strength can you work. Depending on your effort, I may give you more. But this piece will be deducted from future rations. If you fail to finish today's task, then this is all you'll get."
The fool looked at Kampa, then at the cereal, then at the baby wailing in his arms. At last, he made his decision. Without hesitation, he snatched the cereal and dropped it into the bowl.
The cereal dissolved swiftly. In under a minute, the water became a fragrant bowl of porridge. As its warmth wafted up, the fool's stomach gave a loud growl. He reached for the bowl, lifting it toward his lips.
Kampa's expression darkened as he watched. He shook his head slightly and turned to leave—only to pause.The bowl had not yet touched the fool's lips.
Was it because the porridge smelled unappetizing?No.Was it fear of poison?Still no.Was he simply not hungry?Certainly not.
Then… why?
It was because of the crying.
The little bun in his arms, driven by the same hunger, was still weeping…
His hand slowly lowered. Bit by bit, the bowl edged toward the baby's lips. The aroma of wheat stirred her appetite instantly. She opened her mouth and devoured the porridge in eager gulps, sweet and satisfying.
"Waaah~~"
By the time she finished, a quarter of the porridge was gone. The little one drifted back into slumber, content and full. The fool, still holding the bowl, stared down in silence. Though his face remained cold and expressionless, who could say what kind of storm raged in his heart?
…
At last, he set the bowl aside and covered it with a clean leaf to keep the dust away. Then, still hungry himself, he cradled the baby and walked up to Headmaster Kampa.
"Hm. Come with me."
Kampa offered no further explanation. He turned and began walking. The fool followed without a word, unaware that the man before him now wore a faint, satisfied smile in place of the previous coldness.
…
No matter how many times one wandered these school grounds, the sheer size of the place always felt overwhelming. But size wasn't the only issue—lush trees like those of a tropical rainforest filled every corner, and fountains burst unpredictably into the air. Who would imagine that, just half a day's journey from here, lay an endless stretch of desert?
Cicadas chirped from the trees lining the path, while vibrant flowers bloomed along either side. Kampa walked through the student dormitory area. The new students, unaware of his identity, strolled past him with casual indifference. But those who recognized him quickly stepped aside with respectful bows—whispering hurried explanations to the newcomers, who then looked stricken by their earlier insolence.
Compared to Kampa, the fool was just as conspicuous—perhaps even more so. A beggar carrying a baby, with chains wound around his right arm, wearing filthy rags and reeking of sour sweat—his presence in this prestigious academy was nothing short of a miracle. Yet unlike the reverence shown to Kampa, the gazes cast upon the fool were filled with surprise, disdain, disgust, and contempt. But he didn't care. He had grown numb to such stares long ago.
Eventually, they left the dorms behind. When Kampa stopped walking, what appeared before the fool was a massive swimming pool.
Only—it was dry. A vast, empty basin.
"It's summer now, and the influx of new students has been huge. Do you know what that means?"
Kampa stepped past the iron fence surrounding the pool, through the locker rooms and showers, finally arriving at the edge of the pool. The fool followed.
"It means the academy must provide more pools for students to cool off. But now, there's a problem. There are six pools in total. To accommodate everyone, we need at least four to be functional. I can manage to fill three—but this last one, I cannot. And that brings us to your job today."
Kampa entered the supply room beside the pool and emerged with a rusted iron bucket, which he tossed at the fool's feet. Then he pointed to the yawning chasm of the empty pool before them.
"Each night, we disinfect the pools with cleansing powder. That means this one must be filled before ten o'clock. The water is stored in the reservoir behind the showers. Use this bucket to fetch it. Haul the water here and pour it in."
His tone was calm. The fool remained silent. But had any other student been given such an order, they might have fainted on the spot.
Using a bucket to fill an entire pool? Only a madman would attempt such a task!
The fool looked down at the bucket, then back at Kampa, unmoving. Kampa, anticipating this reaction, said coolly:
"You might think this is unfair. But let me tell you—life is unfair. Instead of complaining, you'd do better to get to work."
"It's now five minutes to seven in the morning. I should've had you start at six. You have until ten tonight—sixteen hours. I've done the math. If you move quickly, that's more than enough. So stop wasting time and get started. That is the task I've assigned to you."