Translator: Nox

Chapter 35

Merai led Ranan and Mary to where the other children were. It was Ranan's first time there since being locked in the basement. He'd naturally assumed it was the bedroom, but he gasped in horror upon seeing the interior.

“Good children, you've all stayed quiet just as I said, haven't you?”

The children were huddled together in one corner, cowering. Unlike the basement, which was gloomy but somewhat livable with bedding and meals, this room was particularly terrifying.

The tools hanging on the walls had sharp blades showing signs of use, not mere decorations, and there were chairs of unknown purpose. The entire room reeked of rust and a stale, fishy odor like old blood. Ranan gagged.

“Yulma….”

Even more horrifying was that Yulma was bound. The usually cheeky Yulma hung limp, exhausted. Fortunately, it seemed they'd only restrained him—no visible injuries.

“Yulma got punished for not taking good care of the younger ones after you two disappeared.”

The Director whispered in Ranan's ear before shoving him and Mary inside.

“If you act up again, you'll get punished like Yulma.”

The Director's voice still carried the gentle lullaby tone from nightmare-plagued nights, making Mary burst into tears.

“My dear children, you know how much I cherish you, right? I have something to fetch, so I'll be right back. Stay quiet and well-behaved until then. Keep your mouths shut and be as still as the dead. Understood?”

The Director locked eyes with each child in warning before locking the door and leaving. Ranan waited until her footsteps faded, then tried the handle, but it only clicked—firmly locked.

Mary rushed to Yulma.

“Y-Yulma, what do we do….”

As Mary's wails threatened to erupt, a younger orphanage sibling shushed her with a tear-streaked face. Mary, the sensible older sister to those younger, nodded and clamped her mouth shut.

Meanwhile, Ranan grabbed giant shears-like tongs from the wall. Pushing aside curiosity about their use, he snipped the ropes. Once the gag was off, Yulma spat saliva and gasped heavily.

“Because of me… does it hurt a lot? Sorry, Yulma….”

“Hah… you're sorry for something you didn't even do.”

The Director had rambled excuses, saying Yulma was punished as representative for the kids, but Yulma wasn't one to swallow that blindly.

“Any injuries?”

“None. She just tied me up as punishment.”

Ranan helped Yulma sit. As the children gathered, fussing over him, Yulma brushed off their thanks with a noisy dismissal.

“But is it okay to free me? She said she'd come back—won't we get in more trouble?”

“It's fine.”

Ranan relayed hearing Troy enter with others, and how anxious it made the Director.

“She's probably gone upstairs. Maybe… Troy will save us.”

“Ridiculous. Troy? What if he leaves empty-handed and the Director returns?”

“I'll handle it then.”

From Ranan's reply, Yulma realized he'd use the wall tools if the Director returned.

Is he insane? Harming someone isn't easy in one's right mind—especially the Director they'd followed like a parent despite the betrayal.

Ranan had followed her most devotedly. He'd be wracked with guilt after swinging a weapon.

Irritated, Yulma sniped.

“Then what after? Take all the kids and go where? Another orphanage? Or to Daisy sis?”

“You got a better idea? Know what might happen if we stay? Yulma, you're smart—you know. These tools have all been used before.”

Yulma and Ranan had thought they'd be sold. Meals continued steadily post-basement, no physical violence.

But bringing them here suggested punishment might start. Maybe some 'adopted' kids had already suffered.

“And Troy's here.”

Ranan's blind trust in Troy baffled Yulma. He rubbed the scar on his arm—Troy's doing. It canceled his adoption, leaving him stuck at the orphanage.

Trust the guy who rants about orphan scum and closing this dump?

Suddenly, Yulma wondered: Did Troy act out on purpose? Returning to the empty orphanage with others—maybe his antics were deliberate. Too hopeful?

“Fine… okay. Staying here's no help anyway.”

No choice but to trust. With Yulma convinced, things progressed smoothly. He told the kids to huddle in the corner.

“No matter what noise, don't look back.”

No need for younger ones to share the burden.

“Yulma, sounds. She's coming back.”

Ranan stood by the door, weapon in hand. Yulma swallowed. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

***

The children thought the Director headed upstairs, but she stood before the chained man. Constant scratching left blood beading, trickling down her arm.

“It's been ten days already. Aren't you hungry?”

“My stomach's always hungry.”

Especially with blood scent wafting so close—how could appetite not stir? Melek swallowed.

“Then why won't you eat?”

The Director tilted her head, genuinely baffled.

“I told you—I never eat people, especially kids.”

“Never?”

Her lips curled grotesquely. Then she burst into laughter at the joke.

“Hahahahaha! That's the funniest thing I've ever heard.”

Tears welled from laughing so hard.

“Demon. You who chewed a child alive and savored burning them twenty years ago—why refuse the offering now?”

Back when still called Merai, twenty years ago, Merai was an Ainoa Orphanage orphan.

Merai was exceptionally cunning; the then-Director treasured her like a tongue in her mouth.

Enough to share her filthy deeds.

Two days ago, on her first basement trip, she saw the bratty kid bragging about adoption to rich elders nearly dying in the torture room. Other 'departed' orphans writhed below too.

Amid screams, groans, gasps—one laugh drowned them. The demon the Director served smiled like watching comedy amid the horror.

Holding Merai's head to force her gaze, the Director said.

“Merai, that's a demon who grants wishes. Please it, get rewards. Your food, clothes—all bought with demon's money.”

After the demon's one-act play ended, it tipped the theater owner.

“You know I think specially of you? Merai, help the Director from now on.”

Merai assisted the Director with the demon for two whole years. By then, no older orphans remained.

The endless praise ended when the Grand Temple began arresting sorcerers.

Many executed for sorcery or collusion. Ainoa Orphanage couldn't escape scrutiny.

The Director locked the basement door, hastily destroying records.

“Merai, did you report me? No, not you.”

Yet somehow exposed—perhaps framed—she was sentenced as sorcerer and burned.

Merai inherited the orphanage and useless kids. Legally the Director's adopted daughter. She ran it again. Orphans clung to eldest Merai, no choice.

“Hungry, sis.”

“Sis, what now?”

Initially, surviving Director's funds worked. But money dwindled; birthing Troy ruined it. Kids starved, froze. Short on cash.

One day, recalling the Director, Merai tried the basement door hopefully. Demon gone—impatient, as expected.

No demon, so Plan B: sell kids to slavers.

Discreetly, without kids noticing, avoiding Director's fate—bribed temple priests too. Word spread; steady noble clients emerged.

Proceeds fed remaining kids. But one sale lasted half a year max. Troy's interference botched deals. Never told him truth—how'd he know?

Childhood antics stopped there, but Troy rebelled more, recently demanding building as collateral for huge loan. End this dump now.

Wretched son—didn't he care kids would starve without her?