You'll Have to Pay More, Ma'am

Before the two of them reached the orphanage gate, they heard a furious roar: "I don't care who comes! Even if I die here today, I'm going to tear off your wicked masks!"

A skinny little figure bounced around on the ground like a loach dropped into hot oil—rolling, leaping, and kicking up so much dust it hung like a smoke bomb, conjuring visions of London smog in the Industrial Revolution.

Beside her lay something bound up like a giant caterpillar. On closer inspection—oh, it was a person!

The orphanage gate was packed with onlookers. Yes, most Londoners might value restraint and propriety, but faced with a full-blown spectacle of rolling, shouting, singing, dancing, and even musical accompaniment, who could resist stopping to watch?

When the reserved Mrs. Brown came outside, she found countless pairs of eyes staring at her from every direction.

It was no exaggeration to say she nearly turned around and went straight back in.

She took a deep breath to steady her trembling voice. "Eliana, what are you doing?!"

The busy little loach was thumping across the ground, banging a gong, and finding time to kick the person beside her. She had no time to answer.

She was so absorbed in her performance that the rest of the world might as well not exist.

"Come and see, everyone! The wife of a respected dentist sent her own child to steal from an orphanage! Is there anyone more heartless? Even Satan would get your face tattooed on his back! And you still have the nerve to pray at church every weekend? You're bringing wickedness and filth before God!"

Mrs. Smith shook with rage, barely able to speak.

On the ground, the boy, bruised and swollen and tied up like a silkworm, whimpered and wailed.

The onlookers pointed and chattered.

Frankly, the whole scene was rather absurd.

After a long while, Mrs. Smith finally managed to say, "Are you even a girl? Where are your manners?!"

For some reason, the first thing Eliana felt was disappointment.

With all those wrinkles, Mrs. Smith looked old enough to have learned a thing or two. Was that all she had?

Eliana could have sworn she ought to put up more of a fight.

She held back the affectionate greetings for eighteen generations of her enemy's ancestors that seemed to rise from her very blood—now was not the time to show off her talent for insults—and wailed even louder.

"Everyone, tell me if this makes sense! A grown woman with a fine education is calling an orphan ill-mannered for standing up for her rights! Boo-hoo! If I had parents to raise and protect me, would your son have been able to bully me like this? Your son has you to raise him, and look how he turned out—a robber!"

The words poured out of her, clear and effortless. At the end, she quietly admired herself. Look at that. Perfect fighting form!

As for anyone who thought a girl was being too crude—

Hmph. She could blame that on the irresponsible parents who had abandoned her. It wasn't her fault; she was a victim too, all right?

Eliana never wasted energy blaming herself.

Wailing, she rolled over to the other children from the orphanage and kicked each of them amid the chaos. "Cry!"

The children stood there in a daze, but before they could make sense of anything, they instinctively obeyed.

"Waaah—"

"Waaah—"

The older children cried, the younger ones bawled, and in the middle of it all, Eliana sang and danced.

Amid the chaos, tears streamed down her face as she cried, "Everyone, look at us—"

She pointed at the orphanage children, whose noses were running from crying. "We have no parents and no family. All we have is Mrs. Brown, and she's had to raise us on government relief. But we want to contribute something to the world too. We worked hard to collect donations, and the money was going to charity. Even though we have so little, this boy, loved by his parents and living in comfort, stole the only money we had!"

She scooped up a scrawny child and set him beside the boy trussed up like a pig.

She even sang a plaintive accompaniment: "Little cabbage, yellow in the field... Barely two or three, with no mother left... Bullied by others, beaten by others..."

You had to admit, that little song set the mood at once.

The people around her grew indignant too.

"My God, saying that to a poor child is simply too much."

"That woman is downright vicious!"

"Why does she look familiar?"

"Haven't you heard? She's the dentist Dr. Smith's wife."

Mrs. Smith could hardly breathe. God, why were there so many idle people here? They had even recognized her!

What would her respectable neighbors think if word reached them?

That vicious little bitch. Her son had only been a bit naughty—was there any need to make such a fuss? No wonder her parents had abandoned her!

"What exactly do you want?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"You could have asked that from the start."

Eliana perked up at once.

She sprang to her feet in one fluid motion and looked up with her dusty but undeniably pretty face, the picture of innocence. "Ma'am, I don't want anything. But your son stole our donation tin."

"Hah." Mrs. Smith looked down her nose at her, as though she had finally regained her sense of superiority. "A donation tin. Yes, I suppose that is a fortune to you."

She snapped her handbag open and rummaged through it furiously.

Eliana's smile did not change, as though she hadn't noticed the contempt. "Yes, it's only a donation tin. But it held the results of at least a week of work by the children at our orphanage, from dawn till late at night, along with the kindness of many generous people who aren't like you."

Mrs. Smith stopped rummaging. "What do you mean?"

Eliana smiled sweetly. "I mean your compensation should perhaps cover at least a week's wages and food for the orphanage children, as well as all the kindness those generous people poured into that full tin."

Mrs. Smith shrieked, "You vicious girl—you're blackmailing me, aren't you?"

"How could you say that?!" Eliana stumbled back several steps as if wounded. "I haven't even asked you for a specific amount. Isn't it entirely up to your conscience?"

Then she darted close and murmured so quietly that no one around them could hear, "I seem to recall Young Smith is starting at a very good secondary school in September."

"I imagine a school that good cares about its students' character. At the very least, it wouldn't want a scandal like 'Shocking! Orphan Disrupts Opening Ceremony Over New Student's...,' would it?"

"You've had a taste of my ability to make a scene by now, haven't you?"

Mrs. Smith looked ready to grind her teeth to pieces. "What—what exactly do you mean?"

"You'll have to pay more, ma'am."

Eliana smiled, sweet and innocent.