I Ran Away And The Reverse Harem Started Chapter 127

The memories came back when I was taking books out and putting them back again in the small orphanage library above the fruit shop.

People call this kind of thing déjà vu. Something you’ve never experienced before, yet it feels strangely familiar…… When I squatted down in that dusty old library, I felt many things at once.

Seen from the low gaze of a child, the library filled me with countless emotions.

The musty smell of dust. Pulling out fairy tale books endlessly and putting them back in. Looking at shelves stacked with storybooks, marked with the touch of strangers.

I began retracing, little by little, what the “sorrowful me” that Daniel once spoke of might have done in this library. On purpose, I crouched in a dark corner, staring at the bookshelves, and spent hours there.

The fairy tales I had picked out and read to pass the time eventually piled up to my shins. And when I put them back into the shelf—

“Cinderella……”

The same fairy tale book that was in the old orphanage.

That was when a small fragment of memory before I turned eight resurfaced.

Parents adopting children were always very cautious.

If it was a boy, he had to be dignified and obedient. From the perspective of a noble family, they had to consider him as the one to carry on the family line.

But sometimes, instead of heirs, people just wanted a life to fill their loneliness. At those times, a girl only needed to be cute. Pure and innocent, always smiling. Like a lark chirping, bringing harmony into the home.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t that kind of child, so adoption never worked out. And as I grew older, my name always slipped further and further down the adoption list.

‘Mom, Dad……’

It was definitely Rumiz who told me: if I stood quietly, my parents would come for me. If I cried and threw a fit, they wouldn’t.

I must have thought I was going to meet them on their way back from the opera. That’s probably why I didn’t cry even on that unfamiliar train track. I just held Rumiz’s hand tightly, because she looked more anxious than usual, and I thought something terrible would happen if I let go.

But no matter how long we waited in that strange place, my parents never came. Instead, the director of the orphanage nearby took me in.

In my pocket was a crumpled slip of paper with the name “Rosieta Jensen” written on it. The director assumed it was a name the child’s mother wrote before abandoning her.

Parents who left their children often gave them something in the end. A doll, some candy, or a few pieces of clothing.

For me, it was a name.

“From now on, you must behave, Rosieta. Otherwise, you’ll be in big trouble.”

From then on, I knew something was wrong. Almost every day, I cried and begged, saying I wanted to go back to where my mom and dad were. No one wanted to adopt a child who wailed and threw tantrums every single day.

When the last adoption attempt failed, the director finally lost his temper.

“You nasty brat……. I can’t put up with you anymore!”

No matter how much I was beaten or threatened, I wouldn’t stop. In the end, the director gave up. And so, I was moved from one small orphanage to another, all the way to the outskirts on the western side of the kingdom.

That’s how the years passed. My place on the adoption list kept slipping backward. I no longer cried or screamed, but the nobles still didn’t want to adopt me.

“We don’t want a child who just sits gloomily in the corner like that. Don’t you have a brighter, smarter one?”

“M-my apologies, sir! Would you like to see another child?”

The noble couple looked me over like they were evaluating goods. They had come with the serious intention of adopting, but seeing a child so gloomy for her age repulsed them. Some even showed their disgust openly.

“How can a kid who’s only seven years old already look like that? She’ll scare all the nobles away.”

“Exactly. Useless little thing, just wasting food…….”

At the orphanage, I couldn’t get along with anyone. I didn’t talk, and I ate and drank only a little. Some even asked if I was mute.

I always missed my mom, my dad, and my family. But as the years went on, even their faces blurred. Once the days I lived as an orphan outnumbered the days I lived with them—

I no longer knew who I was waiting for. From then on, I just sat in a shadowy corner, watching the other kids play. Like I was spaced out. Living like a shadow, unable to connect with anyone.

And finally, the last place I was sent to was Hollis.

In the shabby carriage to Hollis, I wondered. Why am I so unhappy? Why don’t my family come looking for me?

The faint memory of my mom, dad, and older sister. Pieces of memories with them lingered, but even those felt like they would someday wash away, like writing in water.

The Hollis Orphanage was just as expected. All orphanages looked the same. Dirty children and a director desperate to send them off for adoption.

The wary eyes of the Hollis kids followed me, but I ran straight into the orphanage building. And there, I buried myself in the quietest corner of the library.

The memories came back when I was taking books out and putting them back again in the small orphanage library above the fruit shop.

People call this kind of thing déjà vu. Something you’ve never experienced before, yet it feels strangely familiar…… When I squatted down in that dusty old library, I felt many things at once.

Seen from the low gaze of a child, the library filled me with countless emotions.

The musty smell of dust. Pulling out fairy tale books endlessly and putting them back in. Looking at shelves stacked with storybooks, marked with the touch of strangers.

I began retracing, little by little, what the “sorrowful me” that Daniel once spoke of might have done in this library. On purpose, I crouched in a dark corner, staring at the bookshelves, and spent hours there.

The fairy tales I had picked out and read to pass the time eventually piled up to my shins. And when I put them back into the shelf—

“Cinderella……”

The same fairy tale book that was in the old orphanage.

That was when a small fragment of memory before I turned eight resurfaced.

Parents adopting children were always very cautious.

If it was a boy, he had to be dignified and obedient. From the perspective of a noble family, they had to consider him as the one to carry on the family line.

But sometimes, instead of heirs, people just wanted a life to fill their loneliness. At those times, a girl only needed to be cute. Pure and innocent, always smiling. Like a lark chirping, bringing harmony into the home.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t that kind of child, so adoption never worked out. And as I grew older, my name always slipped further and further down the adoption list.

‘Mom, Dad……’

It was definitely Rumiz who told me: if I stood quietly, my parents would come for me. If I cried and threw a fit, they wouldn’t.

I must have thought I was going to meet them on their way back from the opera. That’s probably why I didn’t cry even on that unfamiliar train track. I just held Rumiz’s hand tightly, because she looked more anxious than usual, and I thought something terrible would happen if I let go.

But no matter how long we waited in that strange place, my parents never came. Instead, the director of the orphanage nearby took me in.

In my pocket was a crumpled slip of paper with the name “Rosieta Jensen” written on it. The director assumed it was a name the child’s mother wrote before abandoning her.

Parents who left their children often gave them something in the end. A doll, some candy, or a few pieces of clothing.

For me, it was a name.

“From now on, you must behave, Rosieta. Otherwise, you’ll be in big trouble.”

From then on, I knew something was wrong. Almost every day, I cried and begged, saying I wanted to go back to where my mom and dad were. No one wanted to adopt a child who wailed and threw tantrums every single day.

When the last adoption attempt failed, the director finally lost his temper.

“You nasty brat……. I can’t put up with you anymore!”

No matter how much I was beaten or threatened, I wouldn’t stop. In the end, the director gave up. And so, I was moved from one small orphanage to another, all the way to the outskirts on the western side of the kingdom.

That’s how the years passed. My place on the adoption list kept slipping backward. I no longer cried or screamed, but the nobles still didn’t want to adopt me.

“We don’t want a child who just sits gloomily in the corner like that. Don’t you have a brighter, smarter one?”

“M-my apologies, sir! Would you like to see another child?”

The noble couple looked me over like they were evaluating goods. They had come with the serious intention of adopting, but seeing a child so gloomy for her age repulsed them. Some even showed their disgust openly.

“How can a kid who’s only seven years old already look like that? She’ll scare all the nobles away.”

“Exactly. Useless little thing, just wasting food…….”

At the orphanage, I couldn’t get along with anyone. I didn’t talk, and I ate and drank only a little. Some even asked if I was mute.

I always missed my mom, my dad, and my family. But as the years went on, even their faces blurred. Once the days I lived as an orphan outnumbered the days I lived with them—

I no longer knew who I was waiting for. From then on, I just sat in a shadowy corner, watching the other kids play. Like I was spaced out. Living like a shadow, unable to connect with anyone.

And finally, the last place I was sent to was Hollis.

In the shabby carriage to Hollis, I wondered. Why am I so unhappy? Why don’t my family come looking for me?

The faint memory of my mom, dad, and older sister. Pieces of memories with them lingered, but even those felt like they would someday wash away, like writing in water.

The Hollis Orphanage was just as expected. All orphanages looked the same. Dirty children and a director desperate to send them off for adoption.

The wary eyes of the Hollis kids followed me, but I ran straight into the orphanage building. And there, I buried myself in the quietest corner of the library.