I slowly pinched the corner of the previous page between my fingers. The edge of the paper was slightly dry and brittle, producing a faint sound as it rubbed against itself. I paused for a moment, as if bracing myself—
before slowly turning to the next page.
The first line of English text appeared before my eyes.
The black ink remained sharp and clear, not faded at all, as though it had been written only recently. I traced the letters with my gaze and read them carefully in my mind.
"The first person I met in this place was Eldara, an elderly woman—a noble of the Third City District, a district usually inhabited only by high-ranking aristocrats."
I frowned slightly.
The Third District…
It seemed this city was not merely a haphazard collection of settlements, but a place clearly divided into districts—and not just by geography—
but by "status."
From just a few lines of text, I began to piece together the city's structure.
If even the Third District was home to high nobles…
then what about the First District?
What could exist at a level even higher than this—the center of power? The residence of the ruling class? Or a place ordinary people could never hope to set foot in?
This city… was certainly not one where everyone stood on equal ground.
I lowered my gaze and continued reading.
"In her middle years, she was entrusted with many important duties—positions coveted by countless nobles—but she rejected them all, choosing instead to take on the role of caretaker of an orphanage."
I lifted my eyes slightly from the notebook.
Rejected… noble duties?
For someone of the upper class, that was no trivial decision.
Power, honor, security—everything people fought tooth and nail to obtain and yet she chose to cast it all aside without hesitation.
I read the next line with growing interest.
"This orphanage is located in the Ninth District, an area where dangerous incidents occur frequently and which is considered unfit for habitation."
The Ninth District…
That number made my heart feel inexplicably heavy.
If the Third District belonged to high nobles, then the Ninth District must be…
the bottom of the city.
An abandoned place.
A place no one wanted to live.
A place where safety was never guaranteed.
And Eldara—a noble from an upper district—
had chosen to come down here of her own will.
I leaned back slightly against the chair, my eyes still fixed on the words in the notebook.
A mixture of awe and doubt tangled together, impossible to separate.
Why?
What reason could compel an elderly woman to abandon a safe life and come to live in a district filled with danger?
Was this place special in some way?
Or was it because of the children who had been left here?
Or perhaps…
she was truly a kind-hearted person?
If it was the last, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of respect for her.
In a world overflowing with class divisions and self-interest, a choice like this… was not something anyone could make easily.
I let my gaze fall back to the notebook once more.
With the information I had now, the structure of the city was becoming increasingly clear.
The First District—at the top.
And as the numbers increased, the status of the people decreased. This city… was clearly built upon a rigid hierarchy.
I lowered my gaze to the notebook once again.
From the information I had now, the structure of the city was becoming increasingly clear.
The First District—at the top.
And as the numbers increased, the status of the people decreased. This city… was clearly built upon a rigid hierarchy.
I lowered my gaze to the next line in the notebook.
The ink was the same as before.
The handwriting, unmistakably the same.
Yet the name that appeared made me pause for a moment.
"The next person—Alenya. A middle-aged woman from this orphanage, someone who grew up here and chose to return to work in the very place that raised her."
Alenya…
I repeated her name silently to myself.
It carried a strangely gentle feeling.
Not sharp. Not lofty. Completely different from Eldara.
If she truly loved this place, then a decision like that didn't seem strange at all.
People naturally grow attached to places that shape who they are—to places that were once "home," even if they were never perfect.
I wanted to believe that.
Because if the place I was standing in now—
if this place really was the orphanage described in the notebook—
then I wanted it to be somewhere that still had some "good people" left.
But that thought didn't stay with me for long.
Or perhaps…
Her return had nothing to do with attachment at all.
Perhaps this place offered something—some kind of "benefit" that made people willing to stay, or willing to come back.
Because it wasn't just Alenya.
Eldara—a noble from the upper districts—had chosen this place as well.
Two people. Different classes. Different paths in life.
Yet they both chose the same destination.
…That wasn't an easy coincidence to dismiss.
Could it be that this orphanage was hiding something?
I hoped it was nothing more than my imagination.
I hoped I was simply overthinking it.
I took a quiet breath and lowered my head to continue reading.
"Alenya—a woman with bright blue eyes and long blond hair. Her height is average for a woman her age. I must admit, she is more graceful and beautiful than most."
…Strange. I hesitated slightly.
Why was there no description of Eldara's appearance at all?
Yet when it came to Alenya,
the writer described her so clearly, as if she were standing right in front of him.
Was it because Eldara was a noble—someone too "distant," both in status and in way of life?
While Alenya was someone close. Someone seen every day.
Someone who truly existed in his daily life.
"After leaving the orphanage, she worked in many places before eventually deciding to return here—to work for the orphanage."
Chose to return…
Those words weighed faintly on my chest.
Was the outside world too cruel?
Or was this orphanage the only place where she felt safe—
a place where she didn't have to face danger,
didn't have to compete,
didn't have to struggle?
Or perhaps…
It was a place that allowed her to feel as though she were still inside a dream—a dream that had never truly ended since childhood.
"She is responsible for caring for the children here—acting as a teacher, a cook, a housekeeper, and a caretaker. She does almost everything. She is cheerful, easy to be around, and gets along well with the children. Even though I barely ever spoke with her…"
I read those lines slowly,
as if trying to absorb her image through the letters themselves.
She was the center of daily life in the orphanage.
The person the children saw every morning.
The laughter. The warmth.
The "adult" they could rely on.
A role like that… was not something Eldara could ever fulfill.
It required physical strength, emotional resilience, and a level of patience most people would never accept.
Alenya seemed perfectly suited for it.
Her appearance.
Her temperament.
Her sense of responsibility.
And yet, something still lingered uneasily in my mind.
Despite working in the same place, despite being so close, the writer said he had barely spoken with her.
Was it because he had no time?
Or because of some invisible distance between them?
Or perhaps…
Alenya was someone who was "close," yet never truly reachable.
I closed my eyes briefly before opening them again.
Maybe—
her brightness didn't necessarily mean she was as easy to understand as she appeared.
But I hoped that was nothing more than my own unfounded worry…
I lowered my gaze to the next line. The letters had grown slightly thinner, as though the writer had hesitated while recording them.
"The last person I know to be one of the orphanage's caretakers is Aldric—a man who seems mysterious and reserved. I have never met him since coming to this orphanage, even though I've been here for three days now."
…The last person he knew.
That meant that, in the eyes of the notebook's author, there were only three caretakers in this orphanage—
Eldara, Alenya, and Aldric.
I slowly repeated the final name in my mind.
Aldric.
A name that felt solid and grounded—like someone who valued oaths, spoke little, yet carried weight in every word he chose to say.
From what I had read so far,
it seemed the writer of this notebook had only been here for a short time.
Just a few days.
If that was the case, then never having met Aldric made sense.
And yet—
that didn't necessarily mean this notebook had been written recently.
It could have been recorded years ago.
Or months ago.
Or at a time far more distant than I expected.
What I was reading now might not be the "present" of this place at all.
Aldric seemed mysterious—at least, that was the image formed from a handful of lines.
Even so, I couldn't help but hope.
Hope that he was a good person.
Just as the writer of the notebook believed.
"I once asked Alenya about Aldric—about who he was. She seemed very happy that I had come to talk to her, so she told me about him."
Happy…?
That word made me pause slightly.
It seemed the writer of this notebook wasn't particularly sociable—
perhaps a quiet person, someone not very comfortable starting conversations.
If the person who wrote this notebook
was truly the original owner of the body I now inhabited,
then even small details like this were valuable.
At the very least, they would help me "play the role" more convincingly.
"Aldric is Alenya's peer. He was also a child from this orphanage, and when he grew up—
he chose to return here."
Just like Alenya.
Another person who chose to "come back."
Was it because of attachment?
Benefits?
Or fear of the outside world?
But from what was written, Aldric didn't seem weak—
nor someone fleeing from reality.
"He worked many jobs, enjoyed seeking knowledge, and also liked earning money. But in the end, he too ended up at this place
just like Alenya."
The more I read, the harder it was to imagine.
Someone diligent. Someone who sought knowledge and opportunity—
that kind of person shouldn't be afraid of the outside world.
So then…
what was it that made him "choose" this place?
Or was it truly just attachment?
"I don't know what his duties are in this place,
but I believe he is a good person—no different from the others here."