"Lanan, it's time for lunch. Get up."
The girl rubbed her eyes and rose from the bed. The room stretched before her in sterile rows—white beds lined up like tombstones, not a single cheerful blanket or splash of color to soften the gloom.
"Did you eat while I was sleeping?"
"Yes. Twice."
Every time Mary woke her, she asked the same question. It puzzled Lanan, but she had nothing to hide.
"Thank you, Mary."
Lanan stroked the little girl's head. Mary barely reached her shoulder.
The children from Ainoa Orphanage, along with their headmistress, had been locked in this gloomy basement for what felt like an eternity. No windows. No way to mark the passage of days. But if their captors fed them three times daily, at least ten days had passed. If only twice—longer still.
"You missed two meals, so you *definitely* need to eat this one." Mary tugged at her hand. "Let's go quickly."
Lanan followed obediently.
_How strange_, she thought, _to walk so carelessly to lunch while in captivity._ But what else could they do when their captor fed them so regularly? The food here even tasted better than at the orphanage—a detail that unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Suddenly, Mary stopped and pulled Lanan down to her level. The little girl's breath was warm against her ear.
"Lanan... will they sell us?"
"What nonsense is this?"
"Yulma said they're fattening us up. Washing us. So they can sell us for more money." Her voice trembled. "Is that true?"
_What has he been telling her?_ Lanan's chest tightened with indignation—but she couldn't bring herself to deny it. Even she had noticed how carefully they were being kept. Fed. Cleaned. Maintained.
"I don't know."
"You don't *know*?!"
Lanan was only fourteen. She acted mature because someone had to, but she was still just a child herself. The oldest in the orphanage was sixteen, and those who grew beyond that age—like Daisy—left to begin lives of their own.
"Also..." Mary's voice dropped to a whisper. "I heard footsteps upstairs."
"Footsteps?"
"The headmistress said it was probably Troy. She told us to stay quiet."
"I see."
They reached the room that served as their dining hall. Children sat gathered at the tables, silent and still. Even among so many little ones, there was no laughter. No joy. The absence of it hung heavy in the air.
"You've arrived, Lanan?"
"Yes..."
The headmistress slid a plate toward her—a portion clearly set aside. Not surprising, given the meals she'd missed.
Lanan accepted the food but hesitated before asking, her voice barely above a murmur: "Headmistress... are they really going to sell us?"
The woman sighed—a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years. But she didn't answer.
Lanan was too afraid to press further.
---
Lunch ended in silence. The children filed after the headmistress, returning to their dormitory like a procession of small ghosts. Lanan and Mary, the slowest eaters, trailed behind.
"Lanan!"
"Hm?"
"*Shh!*"
Mary slowed her pace and tugged Lanan aside, glancing toward the others disappearing down the corridor. Lanan followed, her heart quickening.
Mary led her into a small, dim room.
Inside, a man sat bound to a chair, heavy chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. A black blindfold covered his eyes.
"Mary." Lanan's voice was sharp. "The headmistress *forbade* us to come here."
"But he didn't eat anything..."
"They've probably already brought him food."
"No." Mary shook her head firmly. "I heard him shout, 'I won't eat!'"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of bread—soggy, misshapen, marked with tiny fingerprints. She must have stolen it from the soup.
_If Yulma had seen this, he would have thrown it away in disgust._ But Mary, undeterred, approached the chained man.
"Uncle... are you hungry?"
"...If you're hungry, then get out of here."
Mary ignored the harsh response and shoved the bread into his mouth.
The man spat it out, coughing violently.
"Tastes... like slop..."
"My bread..."
Mary picked it up and tucked it back into her pocket. _Why keep it?_ Lanan wondered. _Perhaps as a weapon?_ She imagined the bread hardening to stone—dense enough to strike with.
Lanan moved toward the door, but Mary had already settled beside the stranger.
"Uncle, what's your name? I'm Mary. And this is Lanan."
_Meeting a man chained in a dark basement... The incomprehensible spontaneity of childhood._
Lanan was certain he wouldn't answer.
But after a long silence, he spoke—his voice rough, barely audible.
"...Melek."
_He hasn't eaten in days_, Lanan thought, studying him. _Maybe weeks. He must be starving. Yet he spits out bread and entertains children. What a strange way to face death._
She said nothing, not wanting to upset Mary. Instead, she positioned herself near the doorway, watching the corridor. If the captors noticed their absence, they would come searching.
"Melek," Mary said brightly, "do you know why we're here?"
"Yes... I know very well."
_But Lanan doesn't._
Mary gave Melek a thumbs-up—*You're so smart!*—then noticed he couldn't see the gesture and lowered her hand, embarrassed.
She studied him more closely. _If he's this clever, he must be a nobleman. Just like Yulma said._ Yulma had claimed Melek was kept under lock and key because he was the most valuable prize—losing him would be a catastrophic loss.
"Will they sell us?"
"Something like that."
"*Something like that?*" Mary's brow furrowed. "So Yulma was wrong?"
Melek tilted his head toward the door, hoping they would leave. But Mary interpreted the gesture differently and scooted closer.
He sighed heavily.
_Fine. I'll have to scare her._
"This Yulma of yours... he's clever. But he lacks imagination."
"What?!"
Mary was stunned. Yulma was the *smartest*, the *coolest* boy in the orphanage. But he had flaws?
Melek's voice dropped, cold and deliberate.
"You won't be sold. You'll be **fed to the monster**. That's why they clean you so carefully. Fatten you so well." He paused. "After all... a beautiful pig makes for a *tasty* pig."
"Fed...?" Mary's face went pale. "Pig...?"
She imagined herself sizzling like bacon, served on a platter to some hideous creature. She didn't fully understand what "sold" meant—but *fed*? That word she understood perfectly.
She was just a child.
Lanan saw the tears gathering in Mary's eyes and moved quickly to her side. From the far end of the corridor came the unmistakable sound of footsteps.
"Mary, do you hear that? We need to go—*now*."
"But... they'll *eat* us..."
"Nonsense!"
Mary grabbed Lanan's hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. _Footsteps? Is that the monster Melek was talking about?_ Holding her breath, she followed blindly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.
Then she collided with Lanan's back.
"Ow! Lanan, why did you stop? That *hurt*!"
Rubbing her forehead, Mary looked up—and froze.
A massive shadow loomed before them.
_Melek was right. They're going to turn us into bacon._
Mary trembled, burying her face in Lanan's back. But then a familiar voice cut through her terror.
"Lanan? Mary? What are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere for you."
It was the headmistress.
She extended her hand. Mary reached for it—but Lanan jerked her back.
_Lanan must be scared of the monster too_, Mary thought. She patted her friend's arm reassuringly. _Silly girl. That's just the headmistress, not a monster._
"Let's go. Quickly."
The headmistress cast a sharp glance at Melek, then grabbed both girls by the hand and hurried them away.
---
_They're finally gone._
Melek listened to their fading footsteps and swallowed hard.
He was *ravenous*. So hungry he thought he might die. When the little girl had shoved that soggy bread into his mouth, he'd nearly bitten off her finger.
_Can't touch children? Even for a demon?_
A dark smile twisted his lips beneath the blindfold.
_Then I'll make sure they become victims of their own curiosity._
He had deliberately let them go. Nearby, something lurked—a creature that stirred irresistible fascination. And despite every warning, despite every prohibition... children always approached it.
The chains binding him were nothing but theater. His eyes were blindfolded so he wouldn't *see* that they were children. His mouth was left free so he could strike whenever he chose.
*Eat whenever you want*, the chains seemed to whisper.
Melek's jaw tightened.
_And which of us is truly the demon?_
---
## — Evangeline —
_So... let's think about this._
Perhaps instead of searching blindly for the children, it would be wiser to find Troy first. In an empire this vast, countless places trafficked in human lives—and Troy was clearly a key figure in whatever had happened to Daisy. The question was *how* to locate him.
_Criminals always leave traces..._
Evangeline's eyes lit up.
_The shelter! We need to go back to the shelter, find something of Troy's, and let Jelly track his scent!_
Judging by how quickly Jelly had found Daisy, his nose could absolutely be trusted.
She glanced at the girl beside her.
"Can you find Troy?"
Daisy shook her head slowly. "Even I am not omnipotent."
_Too bad..._ A flicker of disappointment passed through Evangeline. _Although... if Jelly solved the entire case with nothing but his nose, the story would lose something. Daisy needs to be part of this._
_But how do I earn her trust? She's clearly hurting too._
"You..." Daisy spoke unexpectedly, her gaze studying Evangeline with new intensity. "You seem quite ordinary now."