Chapter 90
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: There Are No Useless Connections (2)
“Hello!”
“Hey, kids.”
True to my resolve from before, I’d come out to the orphanage for volunteer work over the weekend.
It was my first time volunteering, but I wasn’t nervous at all.
‘I might look it, but I’ve got plenty of volunteer experience under my belt.’
Not this life, but the last one.
As an original member of my university’s volunteer club back then, I’d regularly visited orphanages on weekends.
‘Back then, it was a private orphanage, so the guys did farm work in the fields owned by the place, while the girls handled indoor cleaning, kimchi-making, or watching the kids.’
Farm work was brutally tough.
I never imagined how grueling it’d be to plow the fields, pick out every buried rock by hand, bag them up, haul them away, and plant crops.
If I hadn’t had that experience, when I thought about a peaceful life, I might’ve jumped straight to farming instead of opening a café—and probably wouldn’t have moved out of the city.
‘Ugh, just imagining it is horrifying.’
In web novels, you see protagonists who want a peaceful life, move to the countryside, and start farming. Personally, I bet they all regretted it.
Farming is freaking exhausting.
Anyway, in this gender-reversed era, even as a guy, I wasn’t assigned any physical labor. Instead, I got to look after the kids, and surprisingly, it was pretty manageable.
“Oppa, read this to me!”
“Oppa, sword fight with me!”
“No way! Oppa’s playing house with me!”
It was more than manageable—it felt less like volunteering and more like hanging out with my nieces and nephews.
And the kids listened so well, it was pure bliss.
‘Worlds apart from my past life.’
Even after finishing farm work, showering clean, and changing clothes back then, the kids wouldn’t come near me.
‘Kids are more sensitive to looks when they’re pure-hearted, huh.’
I remembered watching a video experimenting on that.
They put a handsome person and an ugly one in a room and told a kid to pick one to play with—without fail, every single kid chose the handsome one.
In short, kids are even more looks-obsessed?
If grown adults clung like this, it’d be creepy, but since they were little kids, it was just adorable.
‘Though it’s all girls again.’
In this era, there are three types of orphanages.
The first is the standard state-run ones, just like in my past life.
These take in kids born naturally to parents.
Hardly any are abandoned—most lost their parents to Gate Breaks, villains, or tragic accidents.
I almost ended up in one myself back in the day, but thanks to my strong resistance and the assessment that I could live independently with my house and inheritance, I avoided it.
For reference, the state manages these strictly, so volunteering applications aren’t allowed.
It’d be like saying, “We’re showing natural-born kids all this attention and help, so go on and get married and have kids!” Men aren’t lacking; they just don’t want to.
Our country’s desk-jockey policies haven’t changed in a hundred years.
The second type is the state-run orphanages for kids born via artificial insemination—derisively called “factories.”
Also national, so state-managed, no volunteering allowed.
Seo-yeon used to be in one, and apparently, at 13, if you want, you can leave with a small studio apartment and independence stipend.
[They let minors go independent?]
[You’ve gotta clear space to make new ones.]
...On the surface, things look peaceful, but it proves it’s not that peaceful an era.
And the third—and last—is private orphanages for artificial insemination kids.
That’s where I was now, the only type open to volunteers.
“Hehe.”
“Hey! Me too! I wanna hang on!”
“Get off! Don’t hog oppa!”
Ugh, not the time for deep thoughts.
Kids hanging off my back, front, shoulders—I was turning into a human tree, starting to tire out, when my savior arrived.
“You little rascals! Quit bothering oppa and get off!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
The director appeared and barked at them, and the kids scattered from me like startled chicks.
They looked just like recruits getting chewed out by their drill sergeant, making me briefly wonder if there was abuse going on—but their eyes told a different story.
‘More affection than fear.’
She’s the strict-discipline type, I guess?
Makes sense. Lunch portions were skimpy, and the facilities weren’t exactly flush. Running a place like this on tight funds would make anyone short-tempered—it’s human nature.
‘Hmm, should I use hypnosis to give the director some talent?’
Something like investment savvy to help with finances?
Overusing skills isn’t great, so I’ll watch for now.
Private ones get government subsidies, but apparently not much.
“Jun-hyuk, you must be beat. Young guy like you playing with the kids all day.”
“No, they’re all good kids who listen well, so it wasn’t bad.”
“Oh, so humble. I know my kids are a handful.”
The way she looked at them held joy, not contempt or anger—positive stuff. So my guess was right.
“But Jun-hyuk, are you that Jun-hyuk I’ve heard about?”
“Well, if you mean the one dating Hunter Choi Yu-ra, then yeah, that’s me.”
“Oh, it’s really true?”
The rest of my volunteer time wrapped up with tea and her grilling me about Yu-ra sis.
“Come back soon. Next time with Hunter Choi Yu-ra would be even better.”
“Haha... Sis is super busy. But I’ll try.”
I’d definitely come to volunteer.
But I sucked down so much honey, it didn’t feel like volunteering at all.
‘I didn’t need volunteer credits or anything. Didn’t achieve my goal at all?’
Waiting till next weekend felt lame.
Come to think of it, the so-so facilities probably meant the kids weren’t getting proper snacks.
Nothing sadder than kids not eating well at that age—I’d fix that much at least.
“If you can’t pay with sweat, pay with cash.”
Donations count as good deeds too. Buying heaps of snacks and bread for the kids is legit volunteering.
I hit the mart, loaded up bags, and headed back with my hands full.
‘Where’s everyone? Gotta tell the director first.’
Wandering inside, I spotted lights on in the cafeteria and headed there.
Right before entering, voices drifted through the half-open window.
“Did you do wrong, or not? Teacher said no leftovers, didn’t she?”
“Y-yes, I did wrong.”
The kid’s voice was choked with sobs.
The director scolded in a flat tone.
“So what should you do?”
“D-drink it...”
Drink?
What?
Peeking in, I saw the kid gulping water from a cup, tears streaming.
“More.”
She barely finished, and the director refilled it.
The kid, familiar but pained, started again, tears pouring.
“...”
Two glasses.
Three.
Nearly ten by the time...
I realized the flaw in my hypnosis skill’s emotion-reading ability.
“Urk...”
“Drink more. Kids who waste food need discipline.”
Even the same affection comes in pure or yandere flavors.
Emotions don’t fully represent relationships.
“One more glass.”
“C-can’t...”
“Drink. Or you sleep in the storage room tonight.”
“Sob sob...”
Director.
No, the director’s “joy” from the kids was sadistic glee.
The kids’ “affection” beyond fear was because she was their parent figure.
For young kids, parents are their world—irreplaceable, no matter the pain.
“Blech!”
On the twelfth glass, water spewed from the kid’s mouth.
I burst in right then. The director’s eyes widened in panic.
“J-Jun-hyuk?”
“Shut up.”
I hit her with hypnosis immediately.
“What the hell are you doing to kids who don’t know any better!”
＊＊＊
“Hmm...”
I hypnotized the director to turn herself in to the police.
Gathered the kids, had them recount the abuse under hypnosis, then slowly forget it all.
‘No outright violence, at least... but I can’t just let it slide.’
Her emotions toward them: pure joy.
Literally—she treated them like toys for fun.
Locking them in a dark storage room over an hour for sleeping in.
All day in the bathroom for wetting the bed.
Forcing water like I saw for leftovers—harsh stuff.
‘And yeah, to the kids, she was like a parent.’
Under hypnosis, they feared and hated her cruelty but still saw her as mom or dad, desperate not to lose her.
Fixed that too. Hopefully, the next director gives them real parental love.
‘Problem is, it’s private... Without someone buying it, the kids scatter.’
I had the cash to buy it.
Put a trustworthy figurehead in charge to run it.
But nagging thoughts kept coming.
‘If Seoul orphanages are like this, others must have abuse too.’
Fixing just this one won’t cut it.
I won’t shake this unease without checking them all nationwide.
“How many private orphanages are there?”
Search said 58,000 nationwide.
Not all like this—say 5%, that’s 2,900.
Can’t know without visiting.
‘One a week and...’
Even roughly, impossible before my life ends.
What good’s hypnosis if it’s one-on-one? Can’t handle crowds.
‘If I can’t do it alone, get help.’
Thought of my connections.
Yu-ra sis is busy, and her buying up 58,000 orphanages personally? Bad optics, even calling her sis.
‘Not one or two—58,000’s a full business.’
Using kids as an excuse? Even as a hero, people won’t look kindly.
Does sis even have that cash? Haven’t checked her accounts. Will when she’s back.
‘Help from Seo-yeon?’
She’s busy bootstrapping herself.
Hacking’s her thing, but can’t catch outdoor abuse on CCTV, and the volume’s insane for two people.
“Wait, privates are businesses too.”
Like linking it to Yu-ra sis’s biz earlier.
Hero jumping into business looks weird, but an existing mogul expanding into orphanages by buying others?
“...Means contacting her, though.”
Keep her away from shady vibes VS save potentially abused kids.
Obviously the latter—and luckily, I still had her number from old ties.
“Hello? Long time no talk.”
They say everything has its use.
Never thought I’d need hers like this.
“Ha-yul? Let’s talk.”