Chapter 35
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 35
Merai led Ranon and Mary to where the other children were being held. It was the first time Ranon had been brought here since he was locked in the basement. He had expected to be taken to a bedroom, but he froze in horror at the sight that greeted him.
“Good children. You’ve been quiet and well-behaved, just as I asked.”
The children were huddled together in a corner, trembling. They weren’t just scared; they were terrified by the room itself. Unlike the basement, which was merely gloomy, this place radiated a unique and palpable dread.
The weapons hanging on the walls were clearly not for decoration. Their blades were honed and showed signs of frequent use. In the center of the room stood a chair whose purpose was horribly unclear. The air was thick with a stale, metallic scent—a mixture of old rust and dried blood that made Ranon gag.
“Yulma…”
Even more horrific was the sight of Yulma, bound and gagged. Usually so rambunctious, she now hung limp, looking utterly exhausted. Fortunately, it seemed she had only been restrained; she had no visible injuries.
“I punished Yulma for failing to look after her younger siblings while you two were gone,” the Director whispered into Ranon’s ear. She shoved both him and Mary deeper into the room. “If you behave so rudely again, you’ll be punished just like her.”
The Director’s voice still held the same tenderness she used when singing them lullabies after a nightmare. That familiar kindness was what finally made Mary burst into tears.
“My dear children, you know how much I cherish you, don’t you? I have something to fetch, so I’ll be gone for a moment. You must all wait here quietly. Stay as still and silent as the dead. Understood?”
The Director made eye contact with each child, her gaze a final warning, before locking the door and leaving. Ranon waited until the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance. He tried the doorknob, but a heavy thud confirmed it was firmly locked.
Mary rushed over to Yulma.
“Yu-Yulma, what do we do…?”
As Mary was about to wail, one of the younger children hissed, “Shh!” and warned her to be quiet, their own face streaked with tears. Realizing she had to be a reliable older sister for the little ones, Mary nodded and pressed her lips tight.
Meanwhile, Ranon grabbed a pair of large, scissor-like pincers from the wall. Pushing aside the question of their intended purpose, he used them to snip the ropes. Once he removed the gag, Yulma spat out a mouthful of saliva and gasped for air.
“Because of me… you got hurt. I’m sorry, Yulma…”
“Haah… You weren’t the one who tied me up. Stop apologizing for everything.”
The Director had prattled on about how Yulma was being punished as a representative for the others, but Yulma wasn't the type to accept such nonsense.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No. She just tied me up as a ‘punishment.’ That was it.”
Ranon helped Yulma sit up. The other children gathered around, asking if she was okay. Instead of thanking them, Yulma just brushed them off, telling them they were being too loud.
“But is it okay to untie you?” one of the children asked. “She said she was coming back. Won’t you get in more trouble?”
“It’s fine.” Ranon explained that he had heard Troy arriving with other people and that the Director had seemed incredibly anxious about it. “She probably went upstairs. Maybe… Troy will save us.”
“No way. Troy?” Yulma scoffed. “What if that bastard leaves without finding anything and the Director comes back?”
“Then I’ll handle it.”
From Ranon’s tone, Yulma realized he intended to use the tools hanging on the walls if the Director returned.
Is he crazy? Does he think it’s easy for a sane person to hurt someone? Even if they felt betrayed, the Director was someone they had followed like a mother their entire lives. Ranon, in particular, had been the most devoted to her. Even if he managed to swing a weapon, the guilt would likely crush him.
Irritated, Yulma sneered, “And then what? Where are you going to take all these kids? To another orphanage? To Daisy?”
“Do we have another choice? Who knows what will happen if we stay here? Yulma, you’re smart. You know it too. All these tools… they’ve been used before.”
Yulma and Ranon had assumed they were going to be sold. Even after being confined to the basement, they had been fed regularly and hadn't faced any physical violence. But being brought to a room like this suggested that torture was next. Perhaps some of the children who had supposedly been “adopted” had already suffered in this very room.
“And we have Troy,” Ranon added.
His trust in Troy was baffling to Yulma. She unconsciously traced the scar on her arm—a wound Troy himself had given her. Because of it, her scheduled adoption had been canceled, and she had remained at the orphanage ever since. How could they rely on a man who called them “orphan brats” and screamed that this place deserved to rot every time he opened his mouth?
Suddenly, a thought struck her. Did Troy do that on purpose? If he had returned to the supposedly empty orphanage with other people in tow, then maybe his past rampages had been intentional as well. Was that too hopeful?
“Fine… alright,” she finally conceded. “Like you said, staying here won’t help anyone.”
Since there was no other way, she had to trust him. Once Yulma was on board, things moved quickly. She turned to the other children and told them to go to the corner.
“No matter what sounds you hear, don’t look back.”
There was no need to make the younger ones share the burden of what was about to happen.
“Yulma, I hear something,” Ranon whispered, standing by the door with a weapon in hand. “I think she’s coming back.”
Yulma swallowed hard. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.
* * *
The children assumed the Director had gone upstairs, but she was actually standing before the man bound in chains. He had been scratching his arm so incessantly that beads of blood were trickling down his skin.
“It’s already been ten days. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.”
Especially with the scent of fresh blood wafting right under his nose. How could he not have an appetite? Melek swallowed his saliva.
“Then why won’t you eat?” the Director asked, tilting her head as if she truly couldn’t understand.
“I told you, I don’t eat humans. Especially not children.”
“You don’t eat them?”
The corners of the Director’s mouth curled up grotesquely. A moment later, she burst into a fit of laughter, as if she’d just heard the most hilarious joke in the world.
“Hahahaha! That is truly the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” She laughed so hard that tears welled in her eyes. “You’re a demon. Twenty years ago, you loved watching children being chewed up and burned alive. Why are you suddenly refusing the offerings?”
Twenty years ago, back when the Director was still just a girl named Merai, she had been an orphan at this very Ainoa Orphanage.
Merai had been an exceptionally cunning child, and the Director at the time had doted on her, as the girl was so obedient she seemed to anticipate her every command. The old Director had trusted her enough to share the details of her foul deeds.
On her first day in the basement, Merai had seen a girl—one who had been bragging just two days prior about being adopted by a wealthy old couple—hovering on the brink of death in the torture chamber. Other children who were supposedly “gone” were also there, writhing in agony.
Rising above the screams, groans, and gasps was a single sound: laughter. The demon the Director served was smiling as if watching a comedy. The Director had held Merai’s head, forcing her not to look away.
“Merai, that is the demon who grants wishes. If you please him, you will be rewarded. The food you eat and the clothes you wear were all bought with the money he gave us.”
When the private performance for the demon ended, he would tip the owner of the theater.
“You know I think of you as special, don’t you? Merai, you must help me from now on.”
For the next two years, Merai assisted the Director in serving the demon. By the end of that time, there were no children in the orphanage older than her.
The reign of terror that seemed destined to last forever finally ended when the Grand Temple began hunting down shamans. In those days, countless people were executed on charges of being shamans or conspiring with them. Ainoa Orphanage could not escape the crackdown. The Director had locked the basement door and scrambled to destroy all evidence.
“Merai, did you report me? It wasn't you, was it?”
Despite her efforts, the Director was somehow caught—perhaps someone had framed her—and judged a shaman before being burned at the stake.
Merai inherited the orphanage and its useless children. Legally, she had been the Director’s adopted daughter. She continued to run the orphanage in the same building. The children, having lost their guardian, clung to Merai as the eldest. She felt she had no choice.
“I’m hungry, Noona.”
“Unnie, what do we do now?”
In the beginning, she managed to maintain a decent orphanage using the money the previous Director had left behind. But as the funds dwindled and she gave birth to Troy, everything began to fall apart. The children were starving and cold. There was never enough money.
One day, driven to her wit's end and remembering the old Director, Merai opened the basement door. The demon was gone. He clearly couldn't stand boredom, so there was no reason for him to stay.
With the demon gone, Merai chose the next best option: she sold the children to slave traders.
Knowing someone might be watching, she did it with extreme secrecy, ensuring the children never suspected a thing. To avoid following in the previous Director’s footsteps, she even bribed a priest from the Temple to join her scheme. Over time, she moved beyond mere brokers and developed a primary clientele through word of mouth.
Merai used the money from selling one child to feed and raise the rest. But the price of a single child only lasted about six months. Even that was often disrupted by Troy, who sabotaged her deals at every turn. She had never told him the truth, so she had no idea how he had found out.
When he was young, his interference was minor, but as he grew, his rebellion worsened. Recently, he had even claimed he’d borrowed a massive sum of money using the orphanage as collateral and demanded she hand over the building. He had screamed at her to stop running this “damn orphanage” immediately.
What a wicked son. Did he not care about the children who would starve to death the moment she was gone?