Chapter 154: What Can Be Done

Night fell, darkness enveloping the surroundings.  

Wade quietly slipped out of the tent, following Mien through many checkpoints, avoiding unnecessary conflicts.  

Now, only the last barrier stood before him. Without the identity of the Tree Branch Association, he could still cross that tall wall on his own.  

Before heading to his own graveyard, he wanted to go into Helburg to see people he knew.  

Within this fortress, he still had some attachments.  

Twelve years had passed; perhaps everything and everyone had changed. This sudden plague might have taken away those who once interacted with him.  

But no matter what, he wanted to witness those things with his own eyes.  

He left a letter in the tent, telling Mien not to look for him. He was just going to the places he wished to visit. Whether he returned or not was his own matter.  

Through his soul’s vision, he circled outside the deserted city walls.  

He pulled aside a corner of his cloak, and his frost-white soul drifted out through the gap.  

Mia nuzzled his finger and released frost magic toward the river ahead.  

The rushing water froze, forming a narrow ice bridge. Wade stepped onto the bridge, crossed the Milat River, and arrived at the city wall.  

Then Wade took out a rope from his pack. Mia dragged the rope’s tip and flew up onto the wall. She used her magic to firmly freeze the rope to the stone. Wade grabbed the rope and climbed up the wall, quickly flipping over the top and entering the city.  

Familiar streets came into view. He had walked these streets countless times in Helburg.  

At first, he rented a secluded storefront and opened a bakery. Helburg already had many bakeries and pastry shops. With so many choices, who would go to such a remote place just to buy bread?  

So he took the initiative to go door to door selling bread. He knocked on many doors before finally selling his bread.  

After about half a year, he gained a group of regular customers. For those who trusted him, he offered free delivery service. Before dawn, he delivered bread to each customer’s doorstep.  

This service lasted until the day he gave up the lease. He walked past those familiar doors, and behind the tightly closed windows, he heard coughing fits.  

Some houses had become deathly silent. Others, though still inhabited, only faintly flickered with life, weakened by illness.  

Wade’s gaze silently swept over those empty or still-breathing places. All he could do was watch like this. Even if some he knew were still alive, he could offer no help.  

Would the old baker’s friends, who died twelve years ago, be happy suddenly seeing a strange person claiming to be the baker?  

They would only feel terror. If they saw the skeleton beneath the iron mask, they would likely faint from fright.  

So Wade did not intend to disturb his old friends. He only wanted to look from afar.  

His old friends each had their own professions and lives. Even if he had died, they would continue on without his concern.  

But among all those people, there was one he could not quite put at ease.  

After all, when he passed, Elsa was still just a child.  

I never married any man, nor did I have children of my own, but I did raise Elsa for a time.  

I have no experience raising children, nor do I have experience raising ghosts now.  

I raised Elsa longer than I raised Mia.  

Elsa lived in his shop for two years. She was adopted from Sister Charlotte.  

Charlotte was an elder nun of the church. Many of the books Wade read were borrowed from her. Almost once a month, Sister Charlotte would bring a nun from the church to sit in his bakery for a while.  

He adopted Elsa because the local gangs were cleared out by some force.  

That happened about a month after he met Sister Charlotte. Many children used by the gangs for begging were brought to the church, including many disabled children.  

After that incident, even the number of slaves in Helburg greatly decreased, and public security improved surprisingly.  

Due to the large number of children, the church could not afford to raise them all and began seeking families or individuals willing to adopt.  

Children with severe disabilities were fewer and were cared for in special welfare homes funded by lords and church members.  

Relatively healthier children were sent to suitable families found by the church.  

Elsa was one of the leftover girls. Her limbs were intact, but half of her face was covered by a disfiguring black scar. Her hair was also bald. Her bones protruded from emaciation. Judging by appearance alone, she looked like a malnourished goblin, frightening families looking to adopt.  

Elsa was completely mute, always lowering her head silently in front of everyone, so she was left behind.  

Elsa refused to communicate with anyone or become a nun of the church.  

Only when facing Wade was she less timid and willing to raise her head, because Wade had once given her bread on the street.  

“Would you be willing to take her in?”  

That day, Sister Charlotte stood beneath the stained glass, asking Wade.  

Wade crouched down and reached out his hand to the girl hugging her knees.  

The shy, small girl placed her little hand in his palm, and so he took her away from the church and back to his shop.  

That night, Wade measured Elsa’s height, closed his shop for a day, made her a new set of clothes, and gifted her a small round hat that could cover her face and hair.  

Afterward, Elsa worked as his apprentice in the bakery.  

Elsa’s hands and feet were uncoordinated. She stuttered when speaking. To others, she seemed mentally impaired.  

At first, Wade misunderstood her like that too.  

He tried teaching Elsa how to bake, but she could not complete complicated or detailed steps. Wade then gave her delivery work.  

With Elsa familiarizing herself with the streets, visiting many old places, she wore the hat to hide her face and took over Wade’s delivery errands.  

Six months later, Elsa was no longer as thin and fragile as before. She had grown new hair.  

Though still silent and hiding her face in front of others, in Wade’s eyes, Elsa gradually began to smile. Wade realized she was not mentally impaired but had been terrified of the world due to past experiences.  

Later, Wade tried teaching Elsa baking again. After a few more lessons, she could basically replicate his procedures.  

In Wade’s final illness, the bread and pastries he gave customers were actually made with Elsa’s help because his body could no longer support completing the processes flawlessly.  

He was certain that in those two years, Elsa had grown enough to live independently, though she was only ten when he died.  

He did not give Elsa much love—neither verbally nor through actions. He gave very little.  

Because he knew he would leave, and then that child would have to live alone. Giving her too much love would not be good for her.  

Her appearance destined her to suffer many injustices. Wade hoped she would have a strong and independent heart, so he made her find ways to do many things alone, to complete them by herself.  

Before Wade passed, he gave up the lease on the shop.  

Using his savings, he bought a new storefront on another street.  

He entrusted his will to Sister Charlotte, who promised to give Elsa his last letter and the shop’s keys when she turned sixteen.  

Until Elsa turned sixteen, she would live at the church, supported and educated by the church.  

Only when she grew up would Sister Charlotte allow her to become independent.  

After closing the shop for good, Elsa always stayed by his bedside.  

She did not cry; it was as if she did not know how to cry. Wade had never seen her shed tears.  

Before his final sleep, he stroked her head. The girl smiled at Wade. The black scar on her face was still fierce, but her smile was gentle.  

“Good night, sir.”  

“Good night, Elsa.”  

That was the last conversation between Wade and Elsa. He entrusted all his affairs to Sister Charlotte, one of the people he trusted most despite her stern appearance.  

Wade set out toward the shop he once bought. If everything went according to his will, Elsa should have inherited his skills and become an independent baker on that more prosperous street.  

Had she contracted the plague?  

Had she found a man who accepted her?  

Was she still baking?  

Or had she abandoned his will, stayed at the church, and chosen to become a nun serving God?  

Before arriving here, he never overly worried about Elsa.  

He knew he did not need to worry about her; she was stronger than he knew.  

But this plague…  

The image of that small girl coughing weakly inside the house appeared in his mind.  

Even… the scene of her being covered with a straw mat…  

He did not regret taking that girl away from the church.  

But he hoped the girl was still the same as in his memories, still smiling.  

Finally reaching the storefront, Wade’s footsteps stopped.  

Continuous coughing came from inside the door.  

The door was locked, but the windows were open.  

The shop had become larger than Wade remembered, but all the bread shelves were emptied and piled in a corner.  

Layers of straw mats covered the floor. A dozen or so sick people lay on the mats.  

Candlelight illuminated the room. They looked gravely ill; their exposed skin was ulcerated, faces waxen pale, eyes bloodshot.  

The sound of cloth twisting came from a water basin. The girl with half her face covered by a black scar knelt beside the patients, helping them turn over and wiping their wounds and faces.  

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, still wearing the small round hat Wade had given her, though now the face-covering part was pushed up to the hat’s top, looking unused for a long time.  

Among these patients were some of Wade’s old customers and others he did not know.  

Their common trait was that they had all lost the ability to care for themselves and depended on others to survive.  

The girl was their caregiver. Even though it was late at night, she was still tending to the sick.  

“Cough cough… thank you, Elsa,” a patient said. “You… cough cough… you must be tired too. You… cough cough… must rest well…”  

Elsa smiled faintly. She had grown up, completely grown into a young woman compared to twelve years ago.  

But her smile was just like Wade remembered—equally gentle.  

“I’m not tired yet, Mr. Rex,” the girl said softly. “Doing what you can to help others—that’s the lesson Mr. Wade taught me.”