The first rays of sunlight fell upon the lush green lawn and bathed the children of the "laundry unit" in a golden sheen. Lined up in neat rows on a patch of open ground near the orphanage, each child stood before a basin filled with water, beside a heap of grimy, oil-stained clothes. Sweat and splashing water trickled down their young cheeks as they scrubbed with all their might. But no matter how hard they tried, the stubborn grime and industrial grease refused to come off completely.
The orphanage called it "teaching children the value of labor," claiming it helped instill proper values. But what they truly cared about was the profit from the laundry contracts. The administrators knew full well the children couldn't get the clothes perfectly clean—but the factories didn't care either. As long as the stench of sweat and loose dirt were gone, that was good enough.
"Move faster! How many pieces have you even washed?"
A thin cane sliced through the air with a sharp whistle and landed on Arcia's back. Her body flinched instinctively and her hands quickened, but her dull, vacant eyes betrayed her indifference to the pain. After all, as the "outlier" of the orphanage, she'd been whipped more times than she could count over the past month. Pain like this had long become routine—both to her body and her closed-off mind.
Satisfied that Arcia had picked up the pace, the overseer moved on. Whether she finished on time or not didn't matter—there were plenty of ways to deal with disobedient children.
…
Time crawled by. The sun rose high, and the temperature followed suit. Soon, most of the other children had completed their tasks, leaving only Arcia still scrubbing away. Seeing that the moment had come, the overseer stepped forward and began to speak.
"Very good, most of you have finished your work. But while you all were busy, our dear Miss Arcia was slacking off, and even now she's not done with her share."
Standing in the shade of a tree, she tapped the cane in her hand casually as she spoke.
"I've said it before—you rise and fall as a group. If Miss Arcia is still working, then none of you can rest. Once she finishes, you may go. Until then, enjoy the sunshine."
With that, she settled into a little stool in the shade, a chilled drink waiting on the nearby table. Two other overseers joined her, and the three began their little tea party, laughing and chatting while the children endured the blistering sun. Some of them splashed water on their arms for relief, prompting others to follow suit.
"I didn't say you could touch the water. Anyone I catch playing with it will skip lunch."
Her tone was lazy, almost disinterested, but no one dared challenge her. The children fell still, sweat dripping from their foreheads and down their necks like rain. Many turned resentful glares toward Arcia—she was the reason they were suffering, and yet she still got to touch the water.
Finally, Arcia too finished her pile of clothes and sat quietly like the others. The overseer noticed but made a point of ignoring it, continuing to chat for another ten minutes before slowly rising from her chair.
"Well, looks like Miss Arcia finally got through it. But…"
She dramatically glanced at her watch.
"Oh dear, only fifteen minutes left until lunch is over. How much time you get to eat is up to how fast you move."
At those words, the children sprang into action—gathering the clean laundry, dumping out the filthy water. Arcia, too, got up instinctively, wanting to help but unsure how, and no one offered any guidance. A boy passing by with a basin deliberately bumped her with it. Off balance, she fell straight into her own tub, splashing dirty water everywhere. Her clothes soaked through instantly, but she simply stood up in silence, dazed.
Water streamed down her bare arms and legs. Her clothes clung to her like a soaked curtain, dripping in rivulets. No one spared her a glance. Still, she eventually tried to lift the heavy basin, imitating the others. No matter how she strained, she couldn't raise it, and the stronger, older kids had no intention of helping.
Finally, she summoned all her strength and managed to lift the basin slightly off the ground—but just as she rose, she lost her balance.
Right before she tumbled to the ground, a slender hand appeared and steadied the wobbling basin.
"Hold your side up. We'll carry it to the river together."
Arcia blinked, stunned. The girl who had come to help didn't notice her hesitation and stepped forward—but with Arcia not moving, the basin tipped and spilled all over again.
"You okay?"
The girl hadn't expected the mishap, but she didn't scold her. Tossing the basin aside, she crouched beside Arcia, her voice full of concern. Arcia averted her eyes and lowered her head, saying nothing.
"What's going on over here?"
The overseer strolled over, cane in hand.
"Miss Negka, I'm sorry. I accidentally knocked over the basin…"
The girl stood at attention, carefully choosing her words.
"Mmh. I saw. Since you're so helpful, you'll skip lunch too. And—"
Her voice rose suddenly, echoing across the field.
"Because of Arcia and Alice's mistake, everyone's break will be shortened by fifteen minutes. I expect you all to take your work more seriously next time."
The children kept working, but their resentment was obvious. None of them realized—or cared—that this was the overseer's trick to pit them against each other. Even if they did, what could they do? There was no escape, no resistance. And so, even the clever ones turned their anger on Arcia. The rest, thoroughly broken in, simply hated her with all their might.
Eventually, the laundry was loaded onto a truck, and the dirty water disposed of. The morning chores were done. Lunch came and went in a rush, followed by a brief twenty-minute break, and then it was time to work again. The children marched two kilometers to a wide field. There, the farm supervisor handed out assignments, and the children scattered into the rows.
"You pull weeds like this…"
Alice demonstrated. Arcia copied her movements.
"That's it. But be careful with this one here—its roots have barbs."
Despite the warning, Arcia pricked her finger. It wasn't a deep wound, just a single drop of blood, but the barb lodged in her skin.
"Hold still. I'll get it out."
The pain came not from the prick itself but from the white sap in the thorn—it stung long and deep. Alice knew the trick was to get it out fast.
"Watch closely. This is how you deal with it."
She produced a small safety pin from somewhere and gently teased the skin open before pinching the barb out. Then she pressed on the wound to force out the sap with the blood.
"Don't use this hand for now. If it gets infected, it'll be a problem."
She wrapped the wound with her clean, unused handkerchief. Arcia remained expressionless. Alice wasn't sure if she'd understood, but judging from how she mimicked her earlier, she'd probably picked it up.
The afternoon work was light. They were lucky—it was an easy job. During a short break, Alice rinsed Arcia's wound with boiled water. It had been intended for drinking, but it was certainly cleaner than the algae-filled river.
…
By the time they returned to the orphanage, the sky had gone dark.
Nothing else happened at dinner, and the meal brought the children their first bite of meat all week. Afterward, they cleaned themselves up in the showers and returned to their rooms. The day was finally over.
Compared to thirty years ago, the orphanage had improved—at least they didn't have to cram five to a broken bed anymore. That bit of face-saving reform had brought some benefit, at least.
"I've been watching you all month. Why don't you ever speak?"
Lying in her bed, Alice glanced at Arcia a few feet away. As expected, there was no response.
She was only a few years older than Arcia, sent to the orphanage for petty theft, and hadn't even been here a year yet. Growing up on the streets, Alice had seen plenty of institutions like this. The way the staff treated the kids reminded her of her old pickpocket gang—same tricks, same cruelty. She'd thought of running away. But eventually, she changed her mind. Staying here meant her former gang wouldn't come looking for her.
"Alright then. You've got secrets. When you're ready to talk, I'll listen."
Alice rolled over to sleep. Tomorrow would be just as tiring.
But just as she was drifting off, the door creaked open. Her senses flared—she froze, pretending to be asleep.
Three shadows tiptoed in, clutching something in their hands. They crept across the room, heading toward the far right bed.
There were five beds in the room. Hers and Arcia's were in the center. After a moment of hesitation, the three made for Arcia's bed. A tall, skinny girl leaned forward and slammed a pillow down on Arcia's face. The other two started hitting her with whatever they'd brought.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Alice couldn't take it anymore. She leapt out of bed. The three froze, startled. Arcia flailed beneath them, her body twisting like someone drowning.
"You'd better stay out of this!"
The tall girl stepped up, fists raised, trying to intimidate her. But Alice didn't even blink.
"Oh? You wanna fight?"
Back in the pickpocket gang, brawling was routine. She'd scrapped with older, bigger kids plenty of times. These pampered orphans were no threat.
"You…"
As Alice stood her ground, the three hesitated. The leader shot her a glare and backed off, dragging her two followers out of the room.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Alice rushed to Arcia's bed. For some reason, the girl was still thrashing, like she was in some kind of seizure.
"It's… all… my…"
Alice leaned in closer, straining to hear.
"It's all… my fault…"
The words were faint, like a fever dream. Alice couldn't make sense of them.
"Come on, sit up. Easy…"
It wasn't hard to get a grip—Arcia was small, and Alice lifted her with ease.
"Are you sick? What can I do to help?"
Her grandfather had epilepsy. This looked similar—but not quite. He would stiffen and spasm, while Arcia thrashed like a puppet on strings. Still, it might be something similar.
"Do you take any medicine?"
She searched Arcia's pockets. She'd never seen her take any pills—and sure enough, there was nothing in either pocket.
"Hey—what're you—"
Suddenly, Arcia threw her arms around Alice, sobbing silently.
Alice hesitated… then hugged her back. The girl in her arms was trembling.
"There, there. You can talk to me, okay?"
She tried to sound like a big sister. But Arcia said nothing, just held on tightly. Then, as suddenly as before, she shoved Alice away and curled up on her bed, still shaking.
"…You really okay?"
Alice scratched her head, baffled. She'd taken care of her little siblings before, but never seen anything like this.
"Alright… get some rest."
She picked up the blanket Arcia had kicked off, tucked it gently over her, then returned to her own bed and drifted into uneasy sleep.