"You're to clean the corridor and the art room. Did you hear me?"
The disciplinarian walked ahead alone, followed by a group of children swaying under the weight of water buckets, mops, brooms, and rags.
"Yes, sir!"
The children responded in clear, bright voices. Their short midday break seemed to have helped them recover from the exhausting morning labor.
"Good. Get to work."
Satisfied with their enthusiasm, the disciplinarian nodded and walked off—he needed to check on the other cleaning assignments.
"Arcia, hand me the rag."
Once the disciplinarian was gone, the children immediately got busy. Alice had somehow climbed onto a table and was standing on it steadily, reaching back without turning her head to ask for the window rag. Arcia, upon hearing the request, simply reached into the bucket and handed over a dripping grey cloth.
"You could've wrung the water out at least…"
Alice accepted the rag with a sigh and leaned back over the bucket to wring it dry. But even this was progress. For Arcia, it was a big step—she was beginning to interact with the world around her again, and that was the result of Alice staying by her side for three whole months.
"Catch. Wash this for me."
Alice finished wiping the large windowpane and casually tossed the rag back to Arcia. But she had clearly overestimated the girl's reflexes—the rag spun through the air and landed squarely on Arcia's head.
"Pfft... Sorry…"
Trying not to laugh, Alice jumped down and removed the rag from Arcia's head. The younger girl merely stared at her with wide, watery eyes, her expression neither shocked nor annoyed.
"Well, at least you can handle a water bucket, right?"
Alice placed a small bucket in front of Arcia. The water inside sloshed back and forth.
Arcia glanced at Alice, then at the bucket, before slowly reaching out with both hands and cradling it from beneath.
"Good job!"
Alice patted her on the head, and for a brief moment, a glimmer of liveliness flickered in those dull eyes.
It had been a challenge at first, but really, this wasn't so different from taking care of her own little sisters. In fact, Arcia was far more well-behaved than those two troublemakers back home.
"Let's put it here."
They moved on to the next window together. Alice climbed up and cleaned the glass just as thoroughly as before. Then they continued around the room, scrubbing every part of the art room that needed attention. Some other kids complained that Arcia wasn't doing any work, but Alice's firm stance kept them at bay—and honestly, she was doing enough work for two.
"How's everything coming along?"
The disciplinarian's voice suddenly rang out. The children froze where they were.
"We're nearly finished, sir. Please take a look."
The eldest child, acting as the team leader, stood at attention like a soldier reporting in.
"Good. I'll see for myself."
The disciplinarian nodded and walked past the boy, surveying the room. His eyes darted toward hard-to-reach corners—ornamental carvings atop cabinets, the floor beneath tables, piles of stored supplies. Yet no matter how closely he inspected, he found nothing to criticize.
"Hmm... not bad."
He had hoped to deliver his usual scolding, but the cleanliness of the room left he no opening. he had to begrudgingly admit it was well done.
By the time they finished, evening was drawing near. The disciplinarian led the children to a corridor on the second floor, and after another round of scrubbing, it was finally time for dinner.
As usual, the children scarfed down dry bread and washed it down with thick, salty porridge. Only once they had finished their main meal were they permitted to eat fruit—if you could call the shriveled apples that. Even so, the children ate them happily.
What followed was routine: collect the dishes, wipe the tables, listen to the headmistress's address, then line up in gender-separated rows to be led to the dormitories. That marked the end of the day.
Since the disciplinarians patrolled after lights-out, even kids who couldn't sleep had to lie still with their eyes closed, pretending to dream. Anyone caught awake would feel the sting of the cane all night long, and exhaustion would come crashing down during the next day's labor. Just the sight of that cane was enough to strike fear into most. Alice and Arcia, along with the other three in their room, were soon lying quietly in bed.
Sure enough, about half an hour later, Alice heard the dormitory door open.
She lay on her side, back to the door, curled slightly with her arms held close, as if hiding something. When she heard the door shut again, she slowly opened her eyes and cautiously turned her head to check. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she slipped out of bed with a few sheets of paper and two pencils in hand and tiptoed to Arcia's bedside.
"Wake up. I know you're not asleep."
Alice slid into Arcia's bed without hesitation. The girl scooted over to make space.
Late-night "conversations" like this had become routine. Arcia never spoke, so these talks were done through drawing—that was why Alice had brought paper and pencils. Honestly, the art room cleaning earlier had been a lucky break; getting hold of those supplies wasn't easy.
"Now... what should I draw today…"
She stared at the blank page, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her pencil. The warmth of their shared blanket soon made her kick a leg out—it was summertime, after all.
"Got it!"
She quickly sketched a grassy field, then hills, flowers, and a few stick figures.
Alice had no talent for art. Her drawings looked like cave paintings by early humans—rough and childlike. Still, her subject was simple, and her intentions were clear enough. To help Arcia understand the narrative, Alice offered an explanation.
"This is a small hill near my hometown, Audler. I didn't draw the town—you've seen it already. This is where my friends and I used to hang out as kids."
She held the drawing up for Arcia, who observed it with a rare spark of curiosity.
"This here is Netty, one of my childhood friends. We used to come here after dinner, catch bugs, pick flowers, or just lie in the grass and watch the stars. Once, we lost track of time and both our families came out looking for us with lanterns and torches. We thought something terrible had happened—but they were just trying to find us."
As the memories returned, a warm smile spread across Alice's face.
"And that's Vincent, with his little brother. He was such a troublemaker—burned up the firewood outside his house with flint when he was nine. Nearly set the neighbor's home on fire. If the townspeople hadn't seen the smoke and rushed over... I don't even want to think about it."
Alice's storytelling brought the scenes to life. Arcia listened intently, completely absorbed.
"After that, his dad gave him the beating of a lifetime and grounded him for a month. When he came back, it was like he'd turned into a different person—so quiet, we all thought it was weird."
Alice chuckled, covering her mouth. Then, glancing at Arcia, she was surprised to see a faint smile on the girl's usually frozen face. It wasn't her imagination—but she didn't say anything about it.
"And these two are Bella and Melissa, my little sisters. They're about your age now."
The stick figures with braided hair represented them, and the one in the middle was clearly Alice.
"I have a little brother too, but he was too young back then to come along."
She pointed to the smallest stick figure. He hadn't actually been there, but Alice included him anyway.
"And then…"
She flipped to a new page and started drawing again.
"I remember a small circus came during the autumn harvest festival. They set up a Ferris wheel—it was the first time I'd seen Audler from so high up…"
She showed the picture to Arcia. It was messy, the Ferris wheel lopsided, tents scattered around, but something about it captured that whimsical circus vibe—like the art on an old-fashioned poster.
"Maybe someday I can take you to Audler. It's just a normal town, but it's got lots of beautiful places. Like that hillside I mentioned. In summer, the east side becomes a sea of flowers... I couldn't draw it even if I tried. You have to see it for yourself."
She sighed quietly. Truthfully, the Audler she remembered probably didn't exist anymore.
It had once been the front line during the civil conflict. That's why her family had to move to Bratia to make a living.
"Hm?"
Just then, Arcia picked up a pencil and began adding to one of Alice's drawings.
"…What's this?"
Alice took it and studied it closely.
It was the Ferris wheel drawing—but now jagged lines tore through the tents, fire scattered across the page, and stick figures lay sprawled on the ground. At first, Alice couldn't make sense of it. But Arcia's unwavering gaze told her this picture was saying something important.
"Let me think... Looks like a fire... and these figures…"
Her mind clicked. The altered drawing showed disaster, and it was undoubtedly personal to Arcia.
"Your parents…"
She asked gently, but Arcia shook her head.
"I see."
Alice studied the drawing again, then looked at Arcia—calm, silent.
Click—
The dormitory door creaked open. Alice reacted instantly, diving under the covers and pulling Arcia in with her. The two drawings and pencils were shoved under the pillow.
She'd stuffed her own pillow under her blanket as decoy, but it wasn't much. If the person came close, it wouldn't fool anyone. Luckily, the footsteps stayed in the corner—they were just looking for something.
Under the covers, the two of them clung tightly to each other in the small bed. Their warmth blended, and Alice couldn't help but remember that first night she spoke to Arcia—how the girl had clung to her the same way.
But this time… she didn't push her away.
Eventually, the intruder left and closed the door behind them. Silence returned to the room.
Still, Alice didn't let go.