“I wonder if the higher class has access to plumbing,” Norman asked himself as he soaked in the cold bath. It had been warm before, heated with a magical stone he didn’t recognize, but the water had turned cold by the time Norman finished cleaning Pail up. Being a good adult meant freezing your ass off just so a kid could play around in a tub full of warm water.

  [THEY DO NOT.]

  Norman instinctively covered himself with his hands, but he relaxed considerably when he realized that it was just his brain parasite checking in. “Really? I suppose magic makes plumbing obsolete.” He sighed, accepting that he wouldn’t be able to take his morning showers anymore. He just felt lucky that this world had a concept of personal hygiene in the first place.

  He could hear Pail shuffling around outside the bathing room as he dried himself off. He wondered when the sound of tiny feet running and wings flapping had become normal to him. He had always lived an isolated life back on Earth, but the company of Rowboat and the kids felt… nice. Comforting, perhaps. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. The plan was still to drop the kids off at an orphanage and go live a quiet life of routine in a city.

  [SURE YOU ARE.]

  “I will. They said there’s an orphanage in the nearest town from here. It’s run by childless grannies, and it even has an attached school house. They will be happy there.” Norman retorted inwardly. What kind of man did Savant take him for? He was a creature of routine and stability, not someone who takes care of children.

  [IT’S ALL OVER IF YOU NAME THE GIRL.]

  “That only applies to animals. The saying goes to never name a pig you’ll slaughter, not to never name a child you’ll drop off at an orphanage.” Norman knew that he was being obtuse, but he had no other comeback. He knew that giving the girl a name was a bad idea, but he couldn’t allow her to walk around with the name of a prostitute.

  [DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THEY’LL HAPPILY WAVE YOU OFF WHEN YOU LEAVE?]

  Norman didn’t respond to that. He knew they would be upset for a little while, but it would be good for them in the end. Norman thought he was adept at a lot of things, but being a father figure was not one of them. He was cold, rigid, and awkward. His father was the same way, and he barely had any warm memories of him. Norman’s image of his father was an unreachable ideal, a cold man who spent all his time in the home office. He felt that he would end up the same way if he kept the children around.

  [IF YOU WERE LIKE YOUR FATHER, YOU WOULDN’T WORRY ABOUT BECOMING LIKE HIM.]

  As soon as their outing was finished, Pretty happily darted towards her papa. Well, she toddled at a slightly quicker speed then usual. She proudly showed off her hairclips with a series of noises that almost sounded like words. “Waaouu wah hah nryaa!” Norman had no idea what she was trying to convey, but she couldn’t blame her for her lack of speech. She’d only been a human for less than twelve hours.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Still, he could tell that she wanted to show her new things off, so he picked her up and displayed as much interest as he could muster. “Wow. Those are very pretty. Are they friends?” His flat cadence made his words reek of sarcasm, but he was really trying his best to look interested; his dead facial muscles just wouldn’t lend themselves to make him look the part. Pretty didn’t seem to notice anything off, though. She just kept babbling and tapping the hairclips together, enjoying the soft click they made whenever they struck each other.

  “Pail, come pay attention. We need to have a meeting about her name.” At the sound of his name, Pail immediately perked up and shuffled over. His whittling project lay discarded on the floor, earning him a chiding from Rowboat. She told him that the knife needs to be put away properly or he’d get it taken away.

  “What’s wrong with her name? Pretty is a real purdy name!” Pail tilted his head like a confused puppy. He named her that because she was pretty, and she’s still pretty as a human. She reminded him of an unbaked loaf of bread with her pale skin and pudgy body. Bread was tasty, especially white bread, so that automatically meant that she was pretty.

  “It is a fine name for a fox but not for a human.” He started; he didn’t know how to explain the concept of names fit for humans to a boy named Pail and a woman named Rowboat. “Where I come from, names are something that hold a lot of meaning. Pets are named by their appearance, like how Pretty is pretty, while humans have their own, special names.” He lied. He could make up anything he wanted about Earth for his own convenience, as there was no way to fact-check what he was saying. “And Pretty isn’t a pet, is she?”

  Pretty seemed upset about her name supposedly changing. She was given the name Pretty by her super cool older brother, and it was special. She voiced her complaint with all the passion her tiny body could muster. “Anyyaaha jajnah bah!”

  “She don’t wanna change her name! She likes Pretty, ain’t that right?” Pail also protested. He put all his creativity into that name, and now she can’t keep it? That just wasn’t fair.

  “I was getting to that. We can keep Pretty as a middle name, as long as she has a human first name.” That was as much of a compromise Norman was willing to entertain. He wouldn’t allow a child to walk around with the name of a night worker. Not that he hated night workers, per se, they were probably nice ladies, but it was no connotation to have with a child.

  “What’s a middle name?” Pail asked before Rowboat could ask the same thing. People only had one name; where would the middle part go? It sounded awfully confusing to have more than one name. How would you know when someone was calling you?

  “Right. So. There are first names, that is, the name you use to refer to someone. Middle names are secondary names that aren’t used much; they usually honor someone in the family. My middle name is Guy, after my father.” He paused, looking over at Pail and Rowboat to check if they were following. “Then there are last names; it is the name everyone in your family has. My last name is Persson. I would introduce myself as Norman Persson, but in special cases, I would refer to myself as Norman Guy Persson. Understand?”

  Both Pail and Rowboat were stunned in amazement. They knew that Norman was probably a prince from an island nation, but this solidified it in their minds. Only nobles had last names, yet he mentioned his so casually like it was a common thing. The only conclusion they could draw was that he was so high up the royal ladder that he had never met a commoner without a last name before. Rowboat straightened herself out at the realization, while Pail’s eyes just sparkled with curiosity.

  “Ahem. As I said. Pretty would be a fine middle name. Is that acceptable?” He asked Pretty, who was soothed by the knowledge that she wouldn’t lose the name her big brother picked for her. In fact, she seemed happier now that she knew that she would have a name from both her papa and her big brother.

  “I am calling her Primrose for now. It is a name from my home.” Norman said with curt finality, leaving no room for argument. Primrose didn’t have a particular meaning to him, he just remembered the name from a train advert from back on Earth. It sounded delicate enough for a little girl, and hopefully, it wasn’t offensive in this world.

  Pretty and Pail seemed content enough as they kept repeating the name to get used to it. Well, Pail was, Pretty, now Primrose, was just babbling along. Rowboat gulped audibly. Not because the name was offensive, she had never heard it before, but that was the problem. The name was unmistakably a noble one, as roses were a plant only seen by royalty. The only reason she knew about them was because she worked as a noble's maid as a child.

  The fact that this royal man was giving the little girl a noble name basically screamed that he was accepting her into his family to anyone even a little bit knowledgeable of high society. Her boss giving her a supposed middle name just furthered the gesture. Apparently, to have a middle name, you had to have a last name, so in the subtle language of nobility, he was giving her his last name.

  Norman had no idea about any of this. Obviously.