Alice, who had only been watching casually, focused.
The girl clutching the book tried to run away, but she was too young after all. She could not hide her intentions from her awful father, and he discovered her the instant she tried to escape.
How could she have been discovered? That book... An uneasy thought flashed through Alice's heart, but the scene that followed changed her mind.
It was the middle of the night when the girl was discovered. She hugged the book to her chest, sneaked out of the house, and carefully unlocked the door.
From time to time, she glanced in a certain direction. Alice guessed that was where her father was.
It was her first time doing something like this, so the girl could not conceal her nervousness. Yet her movements were steady and orderly. Her hands were extremely stable, and she made no unwanted sounds from trembling.
The lock finally opened, and waiting for her outside was her father.
The girl's father slowly raised his right hand. Alice saw that he was holding a cleaver.
The girl staggered back several steps in terror, her body trembling uncontrollably. The man advanced with the cleaver raised high, while the girl cautiously backed away. Suddenly, she lost her footing and tripped to the ground. Behind her was an old table with four uneven legs and a pitted surface.
The man reached out and lifted the girl as though she were a chicken. Alice felt that he ought to have worn an appropriate expression at that moment, perhaps a sinister grin or something, but unfortunately, she could not see his face or hear his voice.
The man still held the cleaver high in his right hand. He looked as though he were saying something, probably threats or reprimands. After all,