"Ahahahahahaha—!"
The students burst into raucous laughter, and even a rare smile flickered across Dracula's skeletal face. He led the students away, chuckling inwardly as he went."Mr. Campa, your sense of humor truly is… twisted. Very well, as your chairman, I shall keep a close eye on this child. I'll make sure his 'academy life' becomes something quite… unique."
They left behind only the blazing sun overhead and the lone, foolish figure tirelessly pouring water.
Day after day passed, bringing August to its end. Perhaps none of the students or teachers who mocked him ever noticed: the boy they scorned was changing. Bit by bit, his muscles grew firmer. His stride steadied. The arms that once needed both hands to carry a bucket now lifted it with ease. His skin darkened into a healthy bronze, kissed by the relentless sun.Even he, the so-called fool, seemed unaware of the transformation. All he knew was that each day, he failed his task—each day, he was shocked by Principal Campa.
Did anyone notice?As time passed, ripples began to stir in the once-empty pool. The waterline, though rising ever so slowly, grew with each passing day. A few students took note and speculated wildly. In the end, they concluded the idiot had finally discovered the valve to open the water gate. To them, the boy's pace hadn't changed at all from a month or even two months ago—still fifteen seconds per bucket, always the same.
But tonight—August 31st, ten o'clock.
Moonlight shimmered on the rippling surface of the now-full pool, mirroring the stars scattered across the heavens.Breathing quietly, the boy stood before Principal Campa, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. Cradled in his arms was Little Bread, her emerald eyes fixed intently on Campa.
Campa gazed at the filled pool, then turned back and looked the boy up and down. At last, he nodded.
"You've completed the task I gave you. Now… receive your reward."
As if he had expected this, Campa pointed toward a bundle left at the rest area door.Still panting, the boy glanced at him before walking over and carefully opening the parcel.
Inside were bedding, clothes, tableware—items for daily living. But above all, there was food.
"Wuuu—wuaaah—!"
Little Bread reached her tiny hands joyfully toward the sky. Her makeshift swaddle had long since turned into little more than tattered cloth, barely covering her. Her body had grown to the size of the boy's forearm—it was time for her to shed the wrappings and wear real clothes.
Principal Campa stared silently at the boy for a long moment, then snorted coldly and turned away.
"Starting tomorrow, the pool will be closed. The new semester begins. I'll assign you a new task in the morning. Be ready by seven. Don't sleep in."
No electric shock.For the first time in three months, the boy ended his workday without punishment.Adjusting his breath, he picked up Little Bread with one arm and slung the cloth bag over his shoulder. Beneath the vast expanse of stars, he began the walk home.
"Kid, you've gotten tougher."
Back in that dilapidated little house, the boy dropped the sack and the baby onto the bed.A pair of blood-red eyes blinked open—Darkbane, once again ready to mock.
The boy paid him no mind. Over the past three months, Darkbane had rarely spoken. And when he did, it was with strange phrases like, "How interesting, how very interesting..."Tonight, he was hungry. No need to steal this evening—he could finally cook something proper to fill his belly.
Little Bread lay on the bed, her limbs wriggling with curiosity. She rolled over, tugging at the sack's edge and tipping it over. The boy ignored her, instead retrieving a box of matches and a packet of dehydrated vegetables from the spilled contents.He struck a match to light the stove, filled a pot with water from the well, and began to boil it. He snapped off a portion of the vegetables and tossed it into the pot.
"Hey, don't ignore me every time I speak, kid. You're no fun like that."
Expressionless, the boy stirred the pot with a spatula, his face locked in a cold, emotionless stillness."Whether or not you're amused… doesn't concern me."
"Tch. Of course it does! One of the main reasons I chose you as my host was because I thought you'd entertain me! Can't you at least change that dead-fish face of yours? You always look like someone owes you a fortune and skipped town!"
The boy tasted the broth, then reached into the sack for seasonings. He added a touch of salt. Meanwhile, Little Bread had wriggled halfway into the sack, making incoherent noises as she explored.
"Fine, fine! I knew from the start that talking to you meant carrying the entire conversation myself. How about I tell you something interesting instead?Have you ever wondered why that old man made you carry water for three whole months?"
"He said it was to reopen the pool," the boy replied flatly. "Though I don't rule out the possibility of him doing it to torment me."
"…He tormented you?" The red eye seemed to twitch.
"Yes. He probably finds me disagreeable. So he punishes me daily to vent his frustrations. That's common in Senagg.Still, if venting on me earns me food… then I don't mind."
He scooped the vegetables into a chipped bowl and placed it on the table. Then, pulling the almost entirely burrowed Little Bread from the sack, he set her beside it.From the sack he drew a small bag of frozen dough.
"Wuaaah—! Wuaaah—!"
Unbothered by her protests, he tore open the packaging and dropped the dough into the boiling water.
Darkbane watched in silence, his single eye narrowing with faint amusement."Oh-ho? So he's just tormenting you? Very well. Keep believing that… it might be even more entertaining."
"…What do you mean."
"Nothing at all! Just a little encouragement for you to not die too soon from all the 'torment.'By the way, the old man said he'd give you new work tomorrow. Want to guess what it is?"
Turning the dough in the pot, the boy answered slowly, "I don't know."
"Right. As long as it gives you a place to stay and food to eat, you won't refuse any job, will you?"Darkbane chuckled. "You're easy to please, aren't you?"
The boy took the now-cooked dough and set it beside the vegetables. From the cupboard, he found a sealed tin of milk, opened it, and poured it into the pot to warm.Once the milk was hot, he turned off the flame. Supper was ready.
"A feast, wouldn't you say?"Darkbane sneered, his crimson eye flickering over the humble fare. "Vegetables and a lump of boiled dough. Possibly the best meal you've had in three months.Well? Shouldn't you thank the gods?"
The boy shook his head. Before eating, he needed to feed Little Bread.If the milk got cold, it might upset her stomach.
Turning, his neutral expression suddenly froze over with icy resolve.On the bed, Little Bread had vanished into the sack again—only two little feet flailed out from the opening.
He placed the milk down with a thud and marched over, his face a mask of frost.Grabbing one of her tiny legs and the edge of the sack, he tried to pull her out.
She wouldn't budge. From the wrinkles of the fabric, it seemed she was gripping the inside.
"Keheee—! Oohohohoho—!"
Her delighted laughter echoed from the sack, clearly enjoying the tugging. But outside, the boy's face dropped to absolute zero.
In one swift motion, he yanked her free, holding her upside down as his cold, piercing eyes locked onto hers.At first, she laughed. Then, seeing his frozen glare, the laughter faded. She curled into herself, falling silent.
"No crawling into things."
Only when she quieted did he place her back on the bed.He opened the sack, checking its contents—buttons, needles, matches… small things. Dangerous things.He placed the sack high atop the cupboard and returned to Little Bread.
Pointing a firm finger at her, he said coldly,"You could get hurt."
Whether she understood or not was unclear, but seeing his cold and serious eyes, she whimpered softly and curled up again.
Having disciplined her, the boy returned to the table and reached for the milk.
Just then, Darkbane spoke again.
"Hey… how did that girl get into the sack?"
The boy snorted. "She crawled in. How else?"
"Oh? Crawled in? But… in the seven months you've had her, have you ever seen her crawl before?"
The boy's hand trembled.
He turned sharply—on the bed, where she'd been lying on her back… Little Bread had rolled over.She was on her hands and knees.
Crawling.
She had learned to crawl—!