Chapter 34
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 34
Alright, stay calm. They say that if you act scared or even acknowledge a ghost, it’ll latch onto you. The best strategy was to act completely oblivious.
“This is strange. There are signs that someone cooked, but no indication that anyone actually ate.”
Maybe it was an offering? That would explain why the food was untouched.
“Do you think Troy ate it?”
Daisy had a point. Come to think of it, Troy had been loitering around earlier. He probably polished it off as a snack with his drink. Logically, there was no way a ghost existed… but then again, this was a novel. Maybe it was possible?
“I don’t think there’s anything else to see here.”
My suggestion that we leave the dining hall had nothing to do with me being scared. Absolutely not. But as we stepped out, I heard that strange sound again. This time, it seemed I wasn’t the only one.
“What was that noise?”
Following the sound, we found ourselves in front of a room tucked away in the farthest corner of the hall.
“What is this room?”
“It’s the Director’s office…”
To think the Director’s office would be in such a secluded spot. Unlike other orphanages where directors embezzled funds and abused children, this place seemed almost upright. I suppose that’s why Daisy still felt such a sense of belonging here.
Canna pressed her ear against the door.
“It’s coming from inside.”
So the sound really was coming from in there. But Troy was supposed to be with Jelly. Could it be a thief? Or maybe one of the kidnapper’s accomplices was hiding inside, ducking in after sensing our approach.
I strained my ears and heard a distinct scratching. Scritch, scratch. It sounded exactly like someone dragging their fingernails across a wooden wall.
But if an accomplice had hidden after sensing us, why would they make noise and draw attention to themselves? Was it really an accomplice? Was it even a person? After hearing the voice of a ghost who had supposedly starved to death, my imagination was running wild.
“I—I can’t go in.”
“Are you scared?”
“…Yes.”
Daisy shook her head, her face a mask of terror. Was she also imagining a ghost popping out? I was just relieved I wasn’t the only one trembling in fear.
“It’s okay, I’m here.”
My words seemed to reassure Daisy, who looked relieved to know she wasn't alone in her fear. Even if she possessed the skill to knock Troy unconscious with a single blow from a shoe, it was only natural to be afraid of a ghost that physical laws couldn't touch.
“I’m opening it.”
Besides, we had Canna. Look at her, standing there completely unfazed. As expected of a dark-genre female lead, she seemed immune to this kind of situation.
Until that door opened, we wouldn't know if it was an accomplice or a ghost inside. I guess you could call this Schrödinger’s Director’s Office.
Canna opened the door without a hint of hesitation. The room was empty. There was nothing in sight, yet the scratching sound continued. This was insane. It really was a ghost…!
I felt like I was about to burst into tears, too scared to even step into the room.
“Stop, please stop.”
Daisy was in even worse shape than me. Ignoring our trembling, Canna began methodically opening every single door in the room. Wasn't she scared? Her courage was on another level, truly befitting a female lead.
When Canna opened the wardrobe, something suddenly shot out.
“Gasp!”
I heard someone next to me gasp. Was it me? I’d been holding my breath for so long I couldn’t even tell.
“A rat?”
The thing that had leaped from the wardrobe was a rat. It scurried across the floor and vanished from sight in an instant. Meanwhile, our Pudding just yawned, completely unfazed by the commotion. A cat that doesn't care about rats… I never expected to be reminded that Pudding was a beastkin and not an actual cat at a time like this.
“It must have been the rat scratching the wardrobe door.”
Right. The sound had stopped completely. It wasn't a ghost or an accomplice; it was just a rat. The tension drained out of me in a sudden rush, leaving me feeling empty and a little foolish.
“Lady, look at this.”
At Canna’s call, I finally stepped into the room. The moment I crossed the threshold, the air grew heavy, as if it had suddenly sunk, making it difficult to breathe. It had to be my imagination.
On the floor, illuminated by Canna’s light, was a familiar pattern.
“A summoning circle?”
Why was this drawn here? Its sudden appearance baffled me until I remembered the paper Gabriel had shown me. The monastery priest had said he succeeded in a summoning after seeing Donau’s painting. This must be the same. Since this was the Director’s office, did that "kind" Director draw this?
“Daisy.”
I looked toward Daisy to see if she knew anything, but she was already backing away. She didn’t get far before she bumped into someone standing right behind her. Daisy stumbled, too startled to even scream. Just as she was about to fall, Jelly, who had appeared behind her, caught her with effortless style.
“Mr. Jelly?”
“Jelly. Why are you here?”
Surely he hadn't appeared just for some RoFan-style scene where he catches a stumbling Daisy. Had he left his post, knowing Troy could wake up at any moment? I was about to scold him, but Jelly quickly offered an excuse.
“Because this guy said he absolutely had to say something.”
Jelly jerked his head, and Troy emerged from behind him, looking completely wilted. Daisy’s face instantly twisted into a scowl. When Troy hesitantly grabbed Jelly’s sleeve, Jelly brushed his hand away as if dusting off his coat. Troy clenched his empty fist, then bowed his head low.
“Daisy, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry… I couldn’t stop my mother.”
“What are you talking about? Why are you bringing up the Director?”
Troy spoke with great difficulty, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“My mother… she’s the one who took the children…”
*
“What kind of nonsense is that?” Daisy repeated, her voice laced with confusion.
The Director? The Director kidnapped the children? Not Troy? Was he just making excuses to buy time?
“Don’t lie.”
“I know it’s hard to believe.”
Troy walked into the room and began rummaging through the drawers of a desk.
“It should be in here somewhere…”
He struggled with a stuck drawer, so I simply opened it for him. I guess he didn't have much strength left after being knocked out.
“Th-thank you.”
Whether he was embarrassed or not, Troy mumbled his thanks to the empty air without meeting my eyes. I’m over here. Who are you talking to?
After sifting through the documents, Troy seemed to find what he was looking for.
“The list grew again…”
What grew? I peered at the paper Troy had found. Daisy, also curious, hurried into the room.
“What… what is this?”
“Evidence that my mother sold the children. I only found out about these papers recently.”
The first thing that caught my eye was a long string of numbers. Since I still hadn't adjusted to the currency here, I couldn't grasp the value, but long columns of figures were listed next to dates. These entries, recorded like an annual transaction—at least once a year, sometimes twice—seemed to be ransom prices.
So, the kidnapper wasn't Troy, but the Director whom Daisy had praised for her benevolence?
I had made a huge mistake. I had completely forgotten the cardinal rule of storytelling: the person who seems least like the culprit is always the one who did it.
*
“Director, Director!”
The Director, who had been lost in thought, finally snapped back to reality at the sound of Ranon calling her name. When she turned, Ranon gestured toward Mary, as if to say the child was the one with something to say.
“Director… my arm hurts.”
“…I see.”
When the Director let go, a dark handprint was left on Mary’s arm. She had gripped it so hard it already looked like it would bruise. The Director pressed a hand to her forehead. She hadn't meant to be violent—not yet—but when things didn't go her way, her frustration must have caused her to apply too much pressure without realizing it.
Mary, rubbing her arm, suddenly looked up at the ceiling.
“I think Troy is here again.”
That foolish, lingering son of hers must be scouring the orphanage again. That boy truly hadn't listened to a single word she’d said since he was a child. It was the exact opposite of how Merai Miller herself adored her son. Then again, they do say no parent can truly win against their child.
“Troy?”
Ranon heard the footsteps too. Hadn’t he already come by once while they were asleep? Why was he back? As Ranon wondered, he soon realized the footsteps didn’t belong to just one person.
He must have come with the guards to find us!
Troy had surely brought the guards. Hope began to leak through the cracks of Ranon’s despair.
Only a few days ago, the Director they had trusted and loved had suddenly locked them in the basement and started treating them like livestock. At first, they thought it was just a cruel joke, but after seeing a man named Melek tied up down here, they realized the gravity of the situation.
Even then, only the older children like Yulma and Ranon understood something was terribly wrong. The younger ones like Mary, while sensing the Director had become strange, still relied on her out of habit. That was likely why Yulma had told the other kids they were being sold—to shock them into understanding the danger.
Will they notice the basement?
Ranon had spent his entire life in the orphanage and never knew a basement existed. Seeing how Troy kept wandering around upstairs, it seemed he didn't know about it either. The Director hadn't even told her own son about this place.
They would have to search the Director’s office thoroughly… but even if they found the entrance, would they be able to open it? Ranon had once tried to follow the Director out to escape when she left for food, but the door had been locked tight. Only the Director knew how to operate the mechanism.
“It seems Troy has brought someone with him.”
Unfortunately, the Director had also realized there were multiple intruders.
Honestly, he’s a son who does nothing but rebel against his mother at every turn.
Merai hadn't told her son about this basement. She had planned to reveal it once Troy became more cooperative, foolishly thinking he would eventually understand her motives.
“I’ll have to hurry.”
She had to finish the job before Troy and the helpers he brought found the entrance. Merai scratched her arm in agitation, her sharp fingernails drawing fresh red lines across her skin.