Chapter 5

Christian heaved a sigh of relief when he and Roger walked out of the school. At least the most pressing matter had been settled. Since he would be studying here in Kellington, so far away from the Ashwoods, they probably wouldn't come looking for him anymore.

Roger patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go to the restaurant where I work and get your job settled. Then, we're all set."

"Roger, don't tell Mama that I'm studying here just yet. I'll tell her myself once everything is set in stone," Christian reminded him.

Roger froze for a second, then asked stiffly, "You… you didn't tell Mama you're going to school here?"

"Look at you, all scared." Christian tried to reassure him. "It's fine. I'm already in Kellington; out of sight, out of mind. Worst case, she beats me up when I go back."

"Don't talk to me. Let me process this. Meanwhile, go get me a stick. A thick one." Roger rubbed his forehead, waving Christian off.

"What do you need a stick for? You can't walk? I can help you." Christian blinked at him.

"I can walk perfectly fine, thank you. I need the stick so I can beat you to death, then break my legs, and crawl back to Mama to beg for forgiveness," Roger gritted out.

"Come on, don't be mad. Getting mad just makes you sick, and who's that going to help? Who's going to benefit if you drop dead out of rage? Relax, I won't let you take the fall for this. I'll tell Mama I forced you into this," Christian said with a cheeky grin.

"Don't start with the smooth talk. You really think she's gonna buy that? I can already foresee my death—it'll be because you dragged me down with you." Roger glared at him.

"No way. Look, I'm definitely going to be your lucky charm one day. I'll take you straight to the top of the world." Christian thumped his chest, full of bravado.

"That's assuming I can survive Mama's beatings first!" Roger shot him a sideways look.

"Take a chill pill. When I say I'll handle something, I'll handle it. My word is as good as gold. I said I won't make you take the blame for this, so I'll make sure you're safe." Christian hooked his arm through Roger's as he spoke.

Roger let out a long, helpless sigh. He could only blame himself for being reckless and jumping on this pirate ship without asking more questions. "Alright, let's go. Things are already like this, anyway. Let's get your job settled first."

"Got it!" Christian replied happily.

When the two of them arrived at the restaurant, it was right in the middle of the lunch rush. Although Ruth's Table looked ordinary from the outside, the interior was decorated in a classic, old-style manner.

The first-floor dining hall held more than 30 tables, and they were all taken. The second and third floors housed private rooms; those were rarely filled up unless it was a holiday. The first floor was loud and bustling, while the second and third floors were comparatively quieter. The fourth floor was office space.

Roger took Christian straight up to the owner's office on the fourth floor.

The owner of Ruth's Table was a woman in her 30s with a voluptuous figure and delicate features. To describe her using old-fashioned local superstition, one would say she was good luck for her husband. Her eyes were especially striking, as if they could see straight through a person.

Roger knocked on the door. After hearing a "Come in" from inside, he pushed it open and tugged Christian in with him.

"Hey, Ms. Foster. Busy as always?" Roger greeted her warmly, right at home.

"Oh, Roger. Is this your relative?" Ruth Foster turned her gaze to Christian.

"Yup. He's like a brother to me; his name is Christian Ashwood. He's the top scorer in Janverton's magnet school entrance exams this year—he got 99 out of 100." Roger spoke with obvious pride, then quickly introduced Ruth to Christian. "This is Ruth Foster, the owner of Ruth's Table. Just call her Ms. Foster."

"Ms. Foster," Christian greeted respectfully.

"Hmm. Handsome kid, and polite, too. Much better than you," Ruth said to Roger with a laugh after giving Christian a once-over.

"Of course. I'm the one who raised him, after all," Roger said proudly.

"Oh, you punk. Alright, we'll do it as we discussed yesterday. During winter and summer breaks, we'll pay you by the day, at 70 dollars per day. You'll help out in the kitchen, doing odds and ends. Is that okay?" The last question was directed at Christian.

"No problem at all, Ms. Foster. I can help out with other work, too," he said firmly.

"This is enough. You don't need to do anything else. You're only 15—you're still a kid. I don't want you overworking yourself," Ruth said with a smile.

Once they left the office, Christian asked curiously, "Is Ms. Foster always that decisive?"

"Oh, absolutely. Her husband's in the army; I think he's a regiment commander or something. She's bound to be influenced by him a bit. Also, she's really kindhearted, especially toward orphans like us. Everyone at the restaurant respects her a lot, so you should, too," Roger answered.

"Got it. Don't worry about that." Christian nodded.

"Right, we're off today. You officially start work tomorrow," Roger said with a grin, slinging an arm around Christian's shoulders.

With two of his biggest problems settled, Christian was over the moon.

…

The next day, the moment Christian donned a white cook's uniform, he instantly attracted a crowd of motherly fans who cooed over him. Whoever said that white would make anyone look good wasn't lying—at least not when it came to guys.

In that all-white uniform, paired with his smooth, youthful face and those soulful bedroom eyes that could probably look at a stray with deep affection, he was the very definition of a pretty boy.

And once the ladies in the back found out he was the top scorer on Janverton's magnet school entrance exams, he became even more popular. He was like a fish in water in the kitchen. Even the food runners and servers would come by every so often just to pinch his ridiculously soft, squishy cheeks.

Christian would often blush from all the attention. Even though he was already 18 in terms of his actual soul, he'd never dated in his past life or this one, and he'd never dealt with people as bold and forward as the restaurant staff before.

So yes, he was definitely still a virgin.

Five or six days flew by in the blink of an eye. During those days, Christian got a genuine taste of what it meant to be everybody's favorite. Still, he kept worrying in the back of his mind about getting officially enrolled at Kellington Prime High School.

Then, at last, he got a call from the school, asking him to come sign the paperwork and officially complete his admission procedure. Christian felt a huge sense of relief. The thing weighing on his mind the most had finally been settled, and he could come clean with Imelda.

When Christian walked out of Kellington Prime High School, he couldn't help but sigh in admiration. As expected of the best high school in the city—not only were they incredibly efficient, but they also had impressive connections.

From what he knew, transferring across city lines required the education bureaus of both cities to get involved. Even so, it had only taken them six days to get everything done. That alone showed how much pull Prime High had.

Of course, the more influence the school had, the better it was for him. If the Ashwood family tracked him down one day, having the school back him up would save him a lot of trouble.

Christian pulled out his phone and called Imelda. There was no way he could hide this from her. It was better to lay it all out early.

The call connected, and her warm, motherly voice came through. "Chris, are you missing me already?"

"I did miss you, Mama. But, uh, there's something I wanted to tell you," Christian said nervously.

"Oh? What is it? Did you do something you're feeling guilty about?" Imelda asked, puzzled.

"No, it's not that. It's just… I'll be going to high school in Kellington. All my admission paperwork is done," he said honestly.

"What? You'll be in Kellington for high school?" Imelda's voice shot up several octaves.

"Mama, don't be mad. No matter where I study, I'm still going to school, right? And Kellington's high schools are pretty good. Plus, my tuition is fully waived, and I'll get financial aid and a scholarship every year.

"The cost of living in Kellington is way lower than in Janverton, too. I'm really doing fine here," Christian hurriedly explained, though his voice grew smaller and smaller.

"So you got everything done behind my back and only then decided to tell me?" Imelda was furious.

"Mama, please don't be upset. I was just afraid you would stop me," Christian said, trying to soothe her.

"Hmph! Look at you, all grown up and making your own decisions now. If you still care about me even in the slightest, you'll drop out right now and come back here!" Imelda huffed.

"I can't do that. All the procedures are done, and even the education bureau here got involved. It'd be awful for me to just up and leave right now," Christian hastily explained.

"You're all grown up and making your own decisions now, huh? I can't rein you in anymore, can I?" Imelda's voice turned icy, like midwinter snow cutting to the bone.

Christian couldn't help shuddering. All his life, there was no one he was truly afraid of, except Imelda. It was because she genuinely cared about him, and he respected her deeply. Whenever she disciplined him, he always listened with his head bowed.

Still, high school was the one thing he couldn't compromise on. He didn't want history to repeat itself; he wanted nothing more to do with the Ashwoods. If he stayed in Janverton, it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

Janverton was their territory. With their wealth and influence, getting rid of him would be as easy as squashing an ant. At the moment, he had no way to fight them, so all he could do was disappear for a while. He didn't know how long he could stay hidden, but at least this gave him some time.

Christian steadied himself and said firmly, "Mama, I'm sorry, but I really can't do as you say this time. I have my reasons for leaving Janverton—reasons that I can't explain just yet. I promise I'll tell you everything when the time is right."

"Why couldn't you just tell me this to my face? Why did you have to pull this stunt and only tell me after the fact?" Imelda demanded.

"This isn't something I can explain in just a few words. Mama, I'm begging you," Christian said, his voice low and heavy.

"Oh, you!" She let out a long, helpless sigh.

"I also need to ask you for one more favor. Please don't tell anyone I came to Kellington, and don't reveal anything about me from the orphanage," he said gravely.

"You… Did you get yourself dragged into trouble?" Imelda asked, suddenly anxious.

"No. I just need you to keep this secret for me," Christian pleaded.

"Fine, fine. But you'd better find some time to come back and explain everything to me properly," she finally said, relenting.

"Okay. I'll go back when I get a break," he promised.

"Honestly. I'm hanging up now. You're on your own over there, so be careful. Call me if anything happens," she reminded him.

"Got it. I'll call you if anything comes up."

After hanging up, Christian heaved a long sigh of relief. Everything was finally taken care of. Now that the weight in his chest had lifted, he could move on to the next step—figuring out how to make some extra money.