Grace Walker stopped in her tracks, looking resolutely at the woman with a bronze hairpin.

The woman casually flicked her rag and laughed, “You and your child look like you’ve suffered misfortune, so I’ll give you a deal—one wen for two bowls.”

As she spoke, she scooped out two bowls of yellowish soup from the big wooden barrel and placed them in front of Grace Walker. While Grace Walker drank, the woman carefully sized up the Ethan Brooks in her arms.

A clean child without a runny nose or drool always wins people’s favor. The woman reached out to touch Ethan Brooks, but Grace Walker quickly turned away, not letting her.

The woman said awkwardly, “Just looking at this child makes my heart ache.”

Grace Walker whispered, “He’s afraid of strangers.”

Originally, Ethan Brooks had been curiously eyeing the woman’s clothes, but upon hearing his mother, he quickly whimpered twice, turned his face into his mother’s arms, and confirmed her words.

Seeing the child didn’t like her, the woman didn’t mind and continued, “I only have one daughter under my roof. If you’re willing, leave this child here. He’ll fall into a nest of blessings. I’ll give you two strings of cash, so you can use it as dowry and remarry. We’ll never see each other again—what do you think? You should know, I’m only offering this price because I like the look of this child. Nowadays, in the grass market, there are plenty of kids for sale with grass signs—five hundred wen is enough for a deal.”

Grace Walker said nothing, finished the water in her bowl, tossed down a copper coin, shot the woman a cold look, and dragged her washbasin away to continue searching for a place to stay.

“Don’t know a good thing when you see it. I’ll have plenty of chances to see you end up in a brothel, and the child…”

Grace Walker pulled her son’s swaddling closer to her chest, ignoring the woman’s curse. Two strings of cash for her precious child? Her treasure was destined for greatness—no amount of gold could buy him. Would a respectable woman in the capital even mention a brothel? Since this woman spoke of such filth so easily, her own daughter was probably not far from such a place.

After buying two baked cakes, Grace Walker wandered aimlessly through the streets of Tokyo. At some point, a few beggars in ragged clothes began following her, not too close, not too far.

Ethan Brooks looked worriedly at the ill-intentioned beggars behind them, but there was nothing he could do. It was obvious that his mother had offended the water-selling woman, who had paid the beggars to rob them.

His mother wasn’t tempted by two strings of cash, but those beggars were a different story.

With Ethan Brooks’s purposeful crying, Grace Walker sensed something was wrong. After failing to get help from a passing constable, she desperately spent a hundred wen to buy a sharp boning knife and gripped it tightly in her hand.

Seeing Grace Walker brandishing the knife in warning, the beggars exchanged glances and slowly retreated, but didn’t leave entirely—they just hung back, waiting for another chance.

Grace Walker didn’t dare go where there were few people, so she could only follow the sparse flow of pedestrians. Dusk was falling, the crowds thinning, and then heavy rain began to pour.

Under the eaves of the street-side shops, crowds of refugees huddled together. Deeper in the alleys, more beggars roamed, like hyenas on the grasslands waiting to strike.

A broken umbrella couldn’t keep out the rain, and soon Grace Walker’s clothes were soaked through. But Ethan Brooks, wrapped in dry swaddling, wasn’t touched by wind or rain.

A little fox, about the size of a kitten, lay curled up on Ethan Brooks’s swaddling. Grace Walker leaned forward, not allowing a single drop of rain to fall on her child.

Ethan Brooks reached out his tiny hand to tug at his mother’s chin, where the rainwater had already gathered into a little stream.

A wolf-like sharpness flashed in Grace Walker’s eyes—even in the pouring rain, Ethan Brooks could see it clearly.

Suddenly, Grace Walker found the space before her open up, and a towering wall appeared. The wall was so high, it rivaled even the city walls of Tokyo.

All the other high walls were crowded with refugees, but under this one, not a soul could be seen. Exhausted to her limit, Grace Walker finally found a suitable place to settle. Without thinking further, she hurried to a recessed corner of the wall, set the washbasin on its side, and huddled inside with her son and the little fox, watching the rain and mist outside in peace.

The beggars who had been following them turned and left without a word. The other refugees looked on with schadenfreude.

A deep sense of unease rose in Ethan Brooks’s heart. He cried and urged his mother to leave this place at once. Whether it was refugees or beggars, there must be a reason none of them came here. Just like a tiger’s den is always empty—not because it can’t shelter from wind and rain, but because you die faster inside.

Grace Walker was too exhausted to think about anything else. Her son’s crying made her simply believe he was hungry, so she put her breast to his mouth and gripped the knife, keeping a wary eye outside.

Her vigilance didn’t last long. After a day and night of running, she was completely drained. Now, with a thin blanket over her, she felt a bit of warmth and, before she knew it, leaned her head against the washbasin and fell asleep.

Ethan Brooks stopped crying. The little fox, nibbling on half a baked cake, looked up in confusion when it saw Ethan Brooks helping his mother cover her chest, then lowered its head to finish the rest of the cake.