Merai had told the moneylender she couldn't surrender the building—her son had mortgaged it without permission. In response, she received a slap across the face and was thrown into the street like garbage.
She needed money. A staggering sum that couldn't be covered even if she sold every last child.
She approached the aristocrats who had purchased children from her before, but each one refused. In desperation, Merai went to the Temple—one of the priests had been a regular client for years.
It was there, within those sacred walls, that she saw something that made her breath catch. A beautiful, captivating image that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.
It was as if an angel had extended a helping hand.
The painting depicted a magic circle—the very same one the old headmistress had destroyed years ago to avoid persecution. Fortunately, the fools at the Temple hadn't recognized it as a demonic symbol. They'd hung it on their wall like common art.
Merai cancelled her appointment with the priest and rushed back to the shelter.
She remembered every spell the headmistress had once taught her. Every word remained imprinted in her memory, burned there like a brand.
By drawing the circle with her own blood and sacrificing a child, Merai summoned a demon.
The same demon who now refused her generous offers.
---
"This demon called himself Melek," she said, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.
She had succeeded in summoning the demon from her past. At first, Merai felt relief wash over her. But a problem arose where she least expected it.
"I'm sorry," the demon said, his tone almost pleasant, "but that wasn't me."
He denied his past. He looked the same. His name was the same. Even his voice was identical. And yet he claimed it wasn't him?
"You're still clinging to the past," the demon said mockingly, as if taking pity on her. "How pathetic."
"Who is it that put me in this situation?!" Merai's voice cracked with a strange, consuming rage.
"In the end, you *will* devour children," she spat, "just like before."
The demon had always adored innocent souls.
For reasons she couldn't fathom, the demon she'd summoned twenty years later seemed obsessed with hunger—yet refused to feed. Merai convinced herself that once he saw the feast she'd prepared, he wouldn't be able to resist.
She brought all the children to the basement. But *damn him*, the demon proved surprisingly patient.
And before his patience could run out, her precious son brought uninvited guests to the orphanage. Guards? Priests, like twenty years ago? Or perhaps the moneylenders he owed? Whoever they were, it didn't bode well.
Merai's heart hammered against her ribs.
If the demon refused to hunt on his own, there was another way. She had sometimes spoon-fed the children herself, especially when they were fussy and refused their vegetables.
So why not do the same now?
Just pour some well-cooked food down his throat.
Merai tugged at the chain binding the demon. Melek followed obediently, his movements mechanical, puppet-like. They headed toward the room where the children were locked.
---
## — The Confrontation —
The door swung open.
Yulma fought to keep his breathing steady. He just needed to follow the plan he and Lanan had discussed. It wasn't difficult. He could handle this.
But his breath caught the moment he saw her.
Merai wasn't alone. She had brought a man with her—chained, shuffling behind her like a broken marionette.
_Why did she bring him?_
The man stood behind Merai, his presence blocking Lanan's planned escape route. He moved without will, following Merai's every step with hollow obedience.
"Who untied Yulma?" Merai asked, her voice sickeningly tender as her gaze swept the room.
No answer came.
"Why is no one responding? The headmistress is back." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Turn around and greet me properly."
Silence.
All the children, exactly as Yulma had instructed, pressed their hands over their ears and huddled in the corner. They were terrified of him—and that fear made them obey without question.
He had told them they could only turn around and uncover their ears after counting to one hundred. And as far as Yulma knew, none of them could count that high.
"Yulma." Merai's voice hardened. "Answer me. What is going on here?"
"That's what I'd like to ask *you*." He kept his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. "What are you going to do with us? I think you want to sell us."
Merai's lips curled into a sweet, terrible smile.
"Sell? Ha-ha-ha! What a funny thought." She tilted her head, considering. "Although... I really did want to sell you before. So it's not *entirely* a mistake."
She began pacing slowly, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor.
"You too, Yulma. If my son hadn't ruined the goods..." Her eyes flicked to his arm. "You could have fetched me good money. Such a noticeable scar in such a visible place... What a naughty boy Troy was."
_Am I a commodity?_
Rage flooded through Yulma's veins. He hated Merai with every fiber of his being. And yet, strangely, he felt a twisted gratitude toward Troy. Better a scar than being sold to an unknown buyer, shipped to an unknown destination.
This scar... it meant nothing to him now.
"But everything has changed," Merai continued. "Troy mortgaged the orphanage and borrowed a *massive* sum. Even if I found buyers for all of you, I still couldn't pay off the debt." She paused, savoring the moment. "So I found another way."
_That damn bastard._ Troy's debts were the reason they were all trapped here. Yulma swallowed his fury and reminded himself of his role. Keep her talking. Buy time.
"And what method is that?"
"If I told you, would you believe me?" Merai laughed softly. "I didn't believe it myself until I saw it... Well. You'll see soon enough."
She walked to the wall where the weapons hung, her fingers trailing along the gleaming blades. Yulma held his breath. What if she noticed one was missing?
Fortunately, Merai seemed oblivious. She passed the empty space without pausing.
The next moment, Yulma nearly cursed aloud.
Merai picked up a knife.
_Damn. Lanan was right. She really was going to use these weapons against us._
"Yulma." Merai turned to face him, the blade catching the dim light. "You will understand me later."
_Understand?!_ His hands clenched into fists at his sides. _I'd rather die of hunger than let you profit from selling children!_
"Are you a good boy?"
_What difference does it make whether I'm good or bad?!_ This was Merai's favorite manipulation. Children had always gone out of their way to earn her praise, desperate for any scrap of affection.
"I like good children," she murmured, almost lovingly. "And the demon... he likes them too."
She raised the knife and pointed it at Yulma. He stood with his back to her, facing the corner where the children huddled.
Behind Merai, he could see Lanan. Her eyes were wide, white-rimmed with horror.
Everything had gone according to plan—except for one crucial detail. Merai was holding a knife. Yulma was supposed to distract her while Lanan attacked from behind.
Merai's arm swung back.
"**Lanan!**" Yulma shouted, squeezing his eyes shut, praying their plan would work.
---
## — The Truth Revealed —
The drawer Lady Evangeline had smashed open was where the headmistress kept her most important possessions. Daisy knew Merai always carried the key with her—always.
> 8 silver, 30 coppers
> 12 silver, 150 coppers
> 10 silver, 200 coppers
> 7 silver
> 13 silver, 32 coppers...
Daisy reread the documents Troy had found. No matter how many times she scanned the columns, the meaning remained unchanged. These records documented every child sale. Names. Dates. Prices.
"I only found out about it recently," Troy forced out, his shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the floor. Daisy had never seen him so defeated.
"Are you sure this isn't fabricated?" Her voice came out sharper than intended. "Maybe you want to blame everything on the headmistress?"
"Look at the dates." Troy's jaw tightened. "These records go back decades. I doubt a five-year-old could have pulled this off."
Daisy understood. She just didn't want to believe that the kind, caring headmistress—the woman who had sung them lullabies and bandaged their scraped knees—could sell children like livestock.
_"Headmistress... the children who left must miss you very much. Why don't they ever come to visit?"_
_"They're probably too happy in their new families."_
Daisy remembered Merai's answer to her childhood question. Happy? No. They simply *couldn't* come back.
"Troy." Her voice dropped. "Did you know about this before? Is that why you disfigured Yulma?"
Troy nodded slowly.
Daisy remembered how cruelly he had treated children who were about to be adopted. Because of the terrible scar on his arm, Yulma's adoption had fallen through. The prospective family had taken one look and walked away.
Had Troy done that deliberately?
"When did you find out?"
"When I was ten."
Troy was seventeen now. Seven years. He had carried this knowledge for *seven years*.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Daisy's voice cracked. "If I had known—"
"**I told you!**" Troy exploded, his rage spilling over. "I *told* you! I told you our mother sells children! That you all live on that money! And what did you say?!" His voice broke. "You said I was *jealous* of the ones adopted by rich families!"
Daisy fell silent, shame burning through her chest. She remembered exactly how cruelly she had dismissed him.
Troy had done everything he could. He'd tried to stop the sales disguised as adoptions. He'd argued with his mother until his voice went hoarse.
When persuasion failed, he'd even tried reporting her to the guards. But he had no evidence. The guards had dismissed him, saying the disappearance of one or two orphans per year wasn't worth investigating. They didn't want to antagonize the wealthy aristocrats who purchased the children.
"I know!" Troy's voice cracked. "My mother is *insane*! That's why I wanted to destroy that damned orphanage!"
So Troy had chosen a different path.
"There are thirteen children left. I mortgaged the building and borrowed fifteen gold pieces—a sum that couldn't be raised even if every last child was sold. I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I thought that would make her stop."
But instead, the headmistress had vanished. Along with every child.
Only then did Troy realize Merai might sell them all anyway—or worse. Guilt had crushed him. He'd gotten drunk, trying to drown the horror of what he might have caused.
"It's all because of me..."
Daisy pulled Troy into her arms. His body shook with silent sobs.
Most likely, the children hadn't been sold. As Troy said, even selling every one of them wouldn't cover the debt. So Merai must have found another way.
She had summoned a demon.
Daisy finally understood why that magic circle had been drawn in the headmistress's office. The terrible truth clicked into place like a key turning in a lock.