The Child Who Draws the Future
The morning after I nodded at Sylvia’s request to do something together—and sent her back to her room looking slightly elated—arrived. I finished getting ready early in the morning and was driven to our destination in a car operated by Sebastian, Sylvia’s personal attendant. As I gazed out the window, I couldn't help but offer a wry smile to myself. So that was why she’d asked if I liked children yesterday.
As I sat there, quietly taking in the building visible through the glass, Sylvia spoke up.
“I heard that it would be a good idea to do some volunteer work today while delivering the support supplies. It’s meaningful work, so I thought it would be lovely if you joined me, Scarlet.”
On the signboard of the building across the window, the words Mirae Orphanage were written in cute, rounded lettering.
Once we stepped out of the car, Sebastian pulled out bags full of wrapped items from the trunk and piled them into our arms. When I looked at Sylvia with a questioning expression, she smiled faintly.
“These are things for the children. There are toys, fairy tale books, and art supplies inside. Since Astra directly supports this place, we occasionally deliver necessary items like this.”
I nodded and followed Sylvia into the orphanage, where the sound of children chattering echoed from every corner. The interior was clean and charmingly decorated. The fact that the corners of the furniture were rounded to prevent the children from getting hurt gave me the impression that this was a well-run facility.
“First, we need to greet the director, so please follow me.”
I followed Sylvia down the hallway to a room marked Director’s Office. Inside, a kind-looking woman who appeared to be the director welcomed us with a face full of smiles.
“You’ve come, Lady Sylvia? Oh my, you didn’t have to bring anything, yet you’ve packed so much again.”
“Oh? Do you not need them? Should I take them back then?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that. We’re the type who never turns down a gift. Hehe, thank you, as always. The children will be so happy.”
The director, who seemed to be on familiar terms with Sylvia, exchanged playful banter as she took the bags from her. Then, she spotted me standing there awkwardly and asked Sylvia, “Could you introduce this young lady to me?”
“Ah, this is my fri... no, she is Scarlet Evande, a classmate of mine at Aegis Academy. She came with me today to help out and play with the children.”
When I bowed my head to greet her at Sylvia’s introduction, she smiled happily in return.
“So you are Scarlet. I am Maria, the director of Mirae Orphanage. Thank you so much for coming to help today. Fortunately, the orphanage didn't suffer any damage, but due to the gruesome incident that occurred recently, several of our staff members have been unable to come in. We were just in need of people to play with the children... I am truly grateful.”
“Oh... no, it’s nothing.” I waved my hands dismissively at the director’s polite expression of gratitude. She chuckled for a moment, then stopped and asked us, “By the way, you both attend Aegis Academy, right? Then perhaps you might know our Siwoo.”
...The only person I know named Siwoo is one specific individual.
“Are you perhaps talking about Yoon Siwoo? The one with white hair...”
As I answered with uncertainty, the director’s face lit up. “Ah, that’s right! The handsome boy. Are you close with him?”
“Yes... well, we’re in the same class. We’re friends.”
As I answered, recalling the conversation I’d had with Yoon Siwoo not long ago, I felt a gaze from the side. Sylvia was looking at me with a somewhat aggrieved expression. Just as I was wondering if I’d done something wrong, Sylvia turned her gaze away and asked the director, “But Director, how do you know Yoon Siwoo?”
The director smiled and said, “Siwoo grew up in our orphanage. Though he became independent a bit earlier than the others.”
“Pardon? Is that true?” Sylvia asked, clearly startled.
Come to think of it, Yoon Siwoo’s backstory was that he lost his parents, who were heroes, to monsters and was raised in an orphanage. I was marveling at the coincidence that it happened to be this very place when Sylvia suddenly whispered to me.
“...Um, Scarlet. You don’t seem very surprised. Did you already know?”
Well, I saw it in the novel... As I thought that and nodded, Sylvia bobbed her head and muttered to herself.
“Hmm, I see... Since you’re friends with Yoon Siwoo, you would know things like that...”
Her tone sounded strangely disgruntled. However, since it was a small voice barely audible to me, the director continued speaking.
“I knew he was entering the Academy because we talked about it once before, but then I saw him on the broadcast of the group memorial service yesterday. They said he was being officially appointed as a hero. If something like that was going to happen, he could have at least contacted me first. It makes me worry...”
The director, who said that with a wistful look in her eyes, glanced at us and asked with a meaningful expression, “Anyway, did Siwoo cause any trouble while at the Academy? When he was at the orphanage, the girls used to fight every day over who would marry him. Since he was entering the Academy, that was my biggest worry. He’s such a kind child that he can’t be cold to people who like him, so I was worried he’d run into trouble with his relationships with women. How is he?”
Well, it was understandable for the director to worry. As expected of a novel protagonist, Yoon Siwoo was a guy who was even called a "mindless woman-magnet machine." Well, despite that, I didn't think I’d seen many women clinging to him at the Academy. Sylvia also seemed interested in him at times, but then again, she didn't seem that interested at all.
As I thought this and glanced to the side, I made eye contact with Sylvia, who was looking at me for some reason. When I tilted my head, wondering why she was staring, Sylvia let out a deep sigh and answered the director.
“...I don’t think you need to worry about that. Yoon Siwoo doesn't show it much, but he goes around putting up an iron wall.”
“That’s a relief. I honestly thought that if Siwoo were to die, it would be because of women.”
The director, who had said something quite chilling with a smiling face, gathered the bags and said to us, “The talk went on a bit long. Shall we go to the playroom now? Scarlet, since it’s your first time, the children might be a bit shy, but our kids are usually less like that, so don’t worry—you’ll get close to them quickly.”
I nodded at the director’s words not to worry, but I was actually more worried that I might get close to the children too quickly. I had volunteered at orphanages a few times in the past, and I knew that if I got close to the children, I would end up getting attached to them before I knew it, which would make leaving difficult later.
I was hesitating, remembering the memory of having to painfully pull away the hands of children who clung to me and cried, asking me not to leave when the volunteer work ended, when we arrived in front of the room where the sound of children’s voices could be heard.
When we opened the door and entered the playroom with the director, the small eyes in the room turned toward us.
“It’s the pretty big sister!”
“There’s someone I haven’t seen before, too!”
The children, who looked ready to run toward us with eyes shining—making the director’s comment about them being shy seem laughable—were addressed by the director.
“Everyone, attention! People have come to play with us today! Everyone, greet them!”
“Hello!”
At the director’s shout, they all placed their hands over their navels and bowed at the waist. Just as the corners of my mouth were about to melt at the sight of the children’s cute bows, they broke their formation like shackles had been removed, rushing over to surround Sylvia and chatter away.
“Pretty big sister! Show us the sparkles like last time!”
“Sparkle Fairy!”
It seemed their interest was focused on Sylvia, whom they were already familiar with, but the atmosphere shifted the moment one child pointed at me and shouted.
“Look at this! This big sister has a robot arm!”
“Whoa! That’s so cool! Can you shoot it?”
“Rocket punch! Rocket punch!”
As if the prosthetic arm on my left arm had stimulated the children’s curiosity, the kids who had been clinging to Sylvia suddenly started rushing toward me. Just as I was panicking, wondering what to do as they swarmed around me, firing off questions, Sylvia pulled something out of the bag she had brought and said, “Now, everyone. Do you want to see this?”
It was an object that, at first glance, looked like a sword hilt without a blade. But when Sylvia pressed a button on the hilt, golden light erupted from it, forming the shape of a sword.
I let out an exclamation of admiration. A toy sword made to imitate the Radiant Holy Sword? That broadcast must have aired only yesterday; how on earth did they make a toy of that quality in just one day? Is this the capital power of Astra...
Anyway, the quality of the toy, which even made me admire it, was enough to completely captivate the children, and the attention that had been briefly focused on me shifted to the toy sword. The child who grabbed the toy sword from Sylvia the fastest held it up majestically and shouted, “I am Yoon Siwoo! Where is the evil witch!”
“Ah, me too! I want to be Yoon Siwoo too!”
“Now, now. I’ll give them to everyone, so please don’t fight.”
It seemed the children had also watched Yoon Siwoo’s debut on the broadcast yesterday, as they all began role-playing with the toy swords, chanting his name. As I stood there, bewildered by the chaotic scene, the director approached and said in a voice mixed with laughter, “Ahaha, you were a bit surprised, right? The kids are so energetic. Well, if they stay like that for a bit, they’ll calm down soon, so it’s fine to play with them slowly then.”
“Ah, yes...”
...Seeing the children enjoying themselves without a care in the world, it really is a good facility. As I was thinking this, one young girl caught my eye; she wasn't joining the group of laughing and playing children, but was tucked away in a corner, staring only at the sketchbook hanging around her neck.
“...Um, Director. Why is that child over there by herself?”
I asked, concerned about the child who alone exuded a gloomy atmosphere, and the director looked at her and smiled bitterly.
“...You mean Leon, right? Well, Leon is a child who came here just a few days ago...”
“Ah...”
I didn't need a long explanation to understand. It meant she was a child who had lost her parents in the incident a few days ago and had come to this orphanage. As if possessed, I headed toward the young girl named Leon. When I approached, she closed the sketchbook she had been looking at and stared at me with emotionless eyes. I asked her cautiously, “Um, may I sit next to you?”
Leon, who had been staring blankly at me, nodded without a word, so I knelt softly beside her and asked, “What were you doing?”
She didn't answer my question, but when I waited quietly for a response, she answered as if she had no choice.
“...Drawing Mom and Dad...”
“I see. Do you miss Mom and Dad?”
Leon didn't answer. I suppose she wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone else. In times like this, it was useless to try and force a conversation. I unknotted my knees, leaned my back against the wall, and muttered, “Haa, I miss my Mom and Dad too...”
Even though it had been years since I could no longer see them, the longing never faded. As I was ruminating on old memories, Leon, who was sitting next to me, said bluntly, “...If you miss them, you can just go see them.”
I chuckled at her question and answered, “I miss them because I can’t see them.”
“...Can’t you see your Mom and Dad anymore either, Big Sister?”
“Yeah. I can’t see them anymore. That’s why I miss them every day.”
When I answered like that, Leon remained still for a moment before quietly placing her small hand on the back of my hand. Was it a sense of solidarity between people with similar pain? Through that hand, it felt as if something was connecting between us. I looked at Leon sitting beside me, and my eyes fell on the sketchbook hanging around her neck. Looking at the sketchbook, which seemed a bit old to be something she had just received, I could tell it was an item she had possessed before coming to the orphanage.
“...Is that sketchbook a precious item?”
“...A sketchbook Mom bought me because I turned 5. Dad bought me crayons, but I used them all up, so I don’t have them anymore.”
“I see. Leon, you must really like drawing.”
“...I like it. Drawing.”
I asked her cautiously, as she said she liked drawing, “I brought some crayons today, would you like me to bring you some if you want to draw?”
Leon thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. I found a set of crayons in the bag I had brought today and took them to Leon. Leon looked at me and slowly bowed her head.
“...Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Leon took off the sketchbook that was hanging around her neck, placed it on the floor, looked at me, and said, “...Since you were kind, I’ll draw you.”
When I pointed at myself and tilted my head, Leon nodded. Then, she opened the new set of crayons, took out a few, and her hand touched the sketchbook. At that moment, the look in Leon’s eyes as she stared at me changed. As she drew, she was staring straight at me. But her gaze was hazy, as if she were looking at something other than me.
The drawing was gradually colored by Leon’s touch, but from the moment she started drawing, her gaze never once turned downward. After a short time passed and the paper was filled, Leon’s eyes regained their vitality. She held out the sketchbook toward me. It was a drawing filled entirely with red.
“...What did you draw?”
“...I don’t know. Leon just drew what she saw.”
What she saw... I examined the drawing for a moment. In the picture, only a woman with red hair and flames filling the entire world were drawn. Had I ever used flames since coming to the orphanage? Just as I was pondering this, Leon slowly leaned against my body and said, “...I’m sleepy, so I’m going to sleep...”
The girl who said that closed her eyes as soon as she leaned into my arms and fell into a deep sleep, breathing softly. I was momentarily flustered, but I adjusted my posture so the child wouldn't be uncomfortable while sleeping and slowly examined her drawing once more. Looking at the picture of the flames and the red-haired woman, I flipped the pages of the sketchbook. Among the drawings she had made, there were ordinary ones like the one of her family, but there were also drawings that gave off a strange feeling, just like the one she had just drawn.
And the one that gave me the strangest feeling was the drawing on the very first page of the sketchbook. The sketchbook she received as a 5th birthday present. I didn't know how old she was now, but looking at the condition of the sketchbook, it seemed to have been at least a few months old. But for some reason, on the very first page of the sketchbook, a white-haired boy was drawn swinging a golden sword toward a dark sky.
What on earth did this child see in me?