Halfpenny

The older ones led the younger ones, Tom trailing behind five or six children much older than him, head down as he stepped through the snow. The weather was truly biting cold; even his eyelashes had frozen over. If only he could find a way to warm himself up right now.

A wave of warmth coursed through his entire body. Tom blinked his big eyes, unable to process it, and incredulously stretched out his small hand from where it was tucked in his sleeve. He flexed his fingers a few times and found that they really had become warm. Pressing down the corners of his mouth, Tom tried hard to keep calm.

'Mm~ I want to eat meat, I want to eat meat!'

Tom opened his hand, glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, and hid in a corner, praying over and over. After waiting a long time with no food appearing, he shook his head in disappointment. It seemed his ability wasn't omnipotent after all. He might as well go work! Maybe that big devil would take pity and give him a bite of meat.

"Kind sir, please offer a donation to Wool's Orphanage~"

"Tch." The middle-aged man in a bowler hat swept an impatient glance at the short figure before him. How annoying. He was in a hurry to get home and enjoy a hearty meal. He casually fished out a few pence and tossed them over. "Be grateful for my kindness, you bothersome brat."

Bending down to pick up the pence from the ground, Tom clenched them tightly in his hand. Why? He didn't understand. Why was he so angry and irritable? This gentleman had given him pence—just thrown them at his feet, that was all—yet it made him so furious he wanted to hurl the coins back.

Kindness? Why didn't he feel any gratitude?

Lifting his head to watch the tall, straight figure gradually recede, Tom suddenly had a vague feeling. That gentleman stood so upright because he wasn't short of money. People like them, on the other hand, were nothing more than beggars. To survive, they had to bend their backs, force smiles, and plead for handouts.

"So I need to have money first? Then I won't feel angry and irritable?"

"Pfft, an orphan thinking about having money? Dream on, you antisocial freak." A boy standing nearby who had overheard Tom's muttering hugged his collection box and snorted disdainfully. People like them, unless favored by the Goddess of Fate and adopted by someone, would stay in the orphanage forever.

Their only way out was either a lifetime of hard labor or doing the filthiest, most degrading jobs. How could they ever earn money on their own? Not knowing a thing and still wanting to make money—how laughable.

Without replying, Tom dropped the shilling he had been clutching into his small box. After the New Year, he could start learning to read. When that time came, he definitely wouldn't waste a moment. The Old Headmaster had taught him quite a few words; he only needed to see them once or twice to remember them firmly.

He wouldn't be like that idiot Neil, who couldn't even spell simple words correctly and got locked up by Mrs. Cole as punishment.

The sky gradually darkened. Tom shook his box, listening to the clinking sound inside. When no one was watching, he used his ability to take out a Halfpenny—(Halfpenny coins ceased circulation in 1985; Tom was born in 1926.)—and secretly hid it in the lining of his clothes. Luckily, he was wearing a lot, so even if Mrs. Cole searched him, she wouldn't find it.

He loved reading books, both the words and the pictures, especially when the Old Headmaster held him and slowly explained the stories. Too bad he could never hear them again...

His mood soured again. Tom patted his own cheeks, constantly telling himself it would be better by nightfall. In the darkness, he felt at ease. The Headmaster would be up in the sky, shining down to watch over him.