10 Roses for Dio (10)

The carriage driver could barely keep his eyes open, assaulted by the stench of sewage and the omnipresent refuse littering the ground. He glared at the dilapidated street with undisguised disgust. Not even the countryside was this filthy!

The carriage jolted twice as it traversed the uneven road, prompting him to offer a flustered, apologetic bow to the gentleman inside. Fortunately, his employer was as kind and tolerant as ever, replying in a gentle tone, "It is quite alright; this is not your fault."

*Good heavens*, the driver thought, *Mr. Joestar truly is a kind soul. May God grant him a long and prosperous life.*

His thoughts went unvoiced as he brought the carriage to a halt before the Brando residence. The house was no different from the others in the East End of London—ruined, crumbling, and reeking of decay. A massive hole gaped in the roof, clearly letting in every drop of rain.

That was exactly the case.

Since London was perpetually rainy, the leaks were severe; the Brando family had to place basins in various spots to catch the water, preventing it from seeping in and rotting the home from within.

"The poor child lives here. Having lost his father, life must be even more difficult for him now," George Joestar remarked. A genuinely good man, he frowned at the sight of such wretched conditions, already lost in sympathy for the child he had yet to meet.

The driver, however, felt differently.

Coming from a background of poverty himself, he knew that children in the slums were rarely to be underestimated; they were cunning and duplicitous. Especially the son of that man, Brando. *Like father, like son,* he thought—he didn't believe the brat could be any better. But he was only a driver, and it was not his place to interfere.

Inside, Mumino, who had been soundly asleep, heard the knocking at the door. He rubbed his hazy eyes, brushed away the lingering sleepiness, and sluggishly climbed to his feet. After all, he was still growing; it was only natural to sleep a lot.

The person knocking today possessed a certain refinement—the rhythm was steady, three long knocks followed by one short. Mumino suddenly recalled the events of a few days prior. After sifting through his memories for the candidate, he sprinted to open the door.

With a creak, he laid eyes on the refined gentleman standing outside.

The man was handsome, his dark hair—a shade of violet—parted to the side and slicked back with pomade, not a single strand out of place. He had been wearing a top hat, but the moment the door opened, he removed it, holding it in his hand.

The gentleman wore a white shirt and a black morning coat, a green bow tie at his throat, and black trousers that matched his coat. It was the standard attire for a nineteenth-century English gentleman, and even the mustache on his lip did nothing to detract from his refined features and demeanor.

The two parties exchanged a look of mutual surprise.

Mumino possessed the distinct features of an Easterner: black hair, dark eyes, a delicate, fair face, and soft red lips. Even with his pale skin, it was clear at a glance he was not a local.

Yet, the Brando child was supposed to be Western, and logically, he should have been a boy.

George Joestar was the first to regain his composure. He apologized, "My apologies, we are looking for someone. Is this the Brando residence? The home of Mr. Dario Brando? His son is named Dio Brando."

*It really is that kind nobleman Dio spoke of!*

Mumino was overjoyed.

He enthusiastically invited them inside, eager to earn some favor for Dio. "I am a child adopted by the Brando family. He is out earning money to support the house, so he isn't back yet. It will be a while."

Upon hearing this, not only was George Joestar taken aback, but the driver nearly dropped his jaw. Could the Brando family have truly turned over a new leaf, or was this a case of a bad bamboo yielding a good shoot?

Regardless, they had no choice but to wait patiently for his return.

***

Dio had been careful not to get into any conflicts while out and about recently. Partly because he didn't want to be injured again, and partly because he had calculated that the nobleman from the Joestar family would likely come for him within the next few days. Making a good impression was, therefore, his top priority.

He knew his priorities.

When he arrived home, he saw the carriage parked outside.

The wheels were tall and sturdy, the pitch-black body of the carriage embossed with a silver coat of arms. Even from the outside, the vehicle looked incredibly luxurious. Not to mention the two black horses, which were tall, strong, and had sleek, glossy coats.

When had the people of the slums ever seen such a luxurious carriage? They stared with a mix of caution and curiosity, filled with awe and envy—though jealousy and greed were rare. Faced with someone of a social standing so far beyond their own, they couldn't even bring themselves to feel much malice.

A flicker passed through Dio's eyes.

If the Joestars owned this carriage rather than renting it, their wealth might be even greater than he had estimated. As for that kind-hearted gentleman, Dio knew exactly what kind of child such nobles wanted to see.

Dio adopted his most proper posture and a submissive expression, appearing like the most obedient child in the household, showing not a hint of his defiance or perversity.

As he entered the house, he heard a burst of happy laughter—it belonged to his little "fiancée."

Dio inwardly clicked his tongue. *Is she really that happy to continue living a decent, aristocratic life?*

He knocked on the door to draw the attention of the large man and the little girl, who were chatting happily.

The Joestars noticed him immediately.

The blonde youth possessed a face more handsome than most children in the slums, almost verging on bewitching. He wore a gentle smile, knowing how to make the best use of his face to achieve his goals.

"Excuse me, are you the Mr. Joestar that my father, Dario Brando, spoke of?"

Dio's performance gave Mumino goosebumps, and he couldn't help but rub his arms.

George Joestar, however, was completely taken in by Dio's disguise. The polite youth instantly gained his favor. "That is correct, I am George Joestar. It was your father who asked me to take you in. I am deeply saddened to hear of his passing. But please, do not worry; I will fulfill your father's final wish and raise you well."

Even before meeting Dio, he had intended to take care of him and raise him as his own. After seeing him, the desire to adopt him became even stronger. It wasn't just that Dio remained elegant and proper despite living in the slums; it was also because of his striking appearance. If he were left in the slums, or sent to a school without the proper status, it could be quite dangerous.

Dio looked moved, his face filled with gratitude. "Mr. Joestar, you are truly a kind-hearted and benevolent person. On behalf of my father, I express my most sincere thanks."

Mumino shuddered, repulsed by the act Dio was putting on.

Dio's smile remained unchanged. As he sat down next to Mumino, his hand moved under the table and pinched her arm.

Mumino hissed. *That dog, acting violently toward me now! Imagine what he'll be like later!*

Her voice wasn't quiet, and even Mr. Joestar looked over, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

To secure a better life, Mumino couldn't possibly expose Dio at this moment. She gritted her teeth, endured the pain, and forced a smile. "It's nothing, Mr. Joestar."

The little girl spoke softly, her tone light. She looked so fragile and pitiful that it seemed a gust of wind could blow her away.

Except for Dio, no one could bear to be cruel to her.

Dio didn't know if Mumino had introduced herself to George Joestar or how she had described her identity. However, he felt the girl was remarkably clever at such times; she wouldn't do anything to hold him back if it meant living a better life.

So, he introduced Mumino to Joestar as a child his family had adopted.

This excuse sounded like a charitable act, which was far better than the truth—that she had been bought as his future wife.

Dio noticed that George's expression didn't change, so he knew Mumino had likely used the same excuse. *I knew it,* he thought, *this little Eastern brat is always unusually sharp in such moments.*

George Joestar shared his decision with Dio: he intended to adopt him, and he would take care of Mumino as well. If she wished, Mumino could also be adopted as his daughter, but she politely declined the offer.

She was going to marry Dio in the future; if they became siblings now, wouldn't that make things complicated later?

Though Dio thought it was a bit strange, he didn't stop her, waiting for Mumino to make her own decision. It wasn't that he was being thoughtful or gentlemanly, but rather that he still had to remain a gentle, elegant youth in front of George. If he suddenly turned vicious and interfered with Mumino's decision, it would likely lower his standing.

Dio never made a losing deal.

However, Mumino's refusal still left him with a subtle, complex feeling, and he stared at her meaningfully, lost in his own thoughts.

George Joestar didn't think much of it, assuming Mumino simply wanted to retain her Eastern identity. He wouldn't treat her differently because of it; he would raise her just as he would his own children and Dio.

He gently urged them to pack their things, saying they could leave the slums for his manor that very day.

"If you are attached to this place and wish to stay one more night, we can also leave tomorrow. Just as you wish."

He was truly a considerate gentleman, not the type of arrogant, condescending noble who would boss them around or try to control their every move just because they were children.

Dio shook his head. "There are too many painful memories here. If I can leave, I would like to do so as soon as possible. We can keep the house, and if we have time in the future, we can come back to visit and clean it up."

Mumino nodded, naturally following Dio's lead, leaning timidly against him as if relying on him as a true brother.

Who would have known that while leaning on him, she was secretly pinching Dio's waist?

*Today is another day of getting even!*

George Joestar looked at them with a gentle gaze, his eyes full of kindness and benevolence. Even though he felt sympathy and pity, he was careful not to show it too openly, so as not to unsettle the two children.

Neither of them had many belongings, and Mr. Joestar had promised that he would provide them with new ones upon their arrival, so there was even less to carry.

In less than half an hour, they were packed and ready to go. Under the care of Mr. Joestar and the driver, they boarded the carriage and headed for the Joestar estate.

Dio's bitter life—or more accurately, Mumino's bitter life—had finally come to an end.