Mutation

"Boheng? What are you doing here—"

Sister Gurdin was only halfway through her words when she already saw the answer: around Boheng and Hesta lay numerous sheets of flattened old newspapers.

"Miss Gurdin..." Boheng's face instantly paled, but he quickly regained his composure.

He used his body to block his clipping book and quietly pushed it toward Hesta behind him.

Hesta quickly understood. Unflinchingly, she took the book, hurriedly wrapped it in asbestos cloth, and shoved it underneath the iron cage.

"I always thought you were a good child..." Sister Gurdin turned pale with anger, her chest heaving violently as she panted. "How dare you—how dare you—"

"Please don't be angry, Miss Gurdin." Boheng abruptly stood up to draw the nun's gaze.

The nun casually picked up an old newspaper and flung it at Boheng. The paper made an alarming rustling sound, and she said with fury, "Why do I forbid you from looking at these things? Remember?"

Boheng: "Because... we don't yet have the ability to tell right from wrong. Contacting this bustling outside information at this time will complicate our thoughts, thereby... making us more prone to straying onto wrong paths, and more vulnerable to the erosion of Chelation Disease."

Hesta also stood up. "Miss Gurdin, I was starving, so I asked Boheng to bring me some food. Plus, I've always wanted to hear stories about the outside, which is why this time—"

"Enough! I won't believe your ghost stories anymore."

Gerdin felt a surge of hot blood rush to her head, and everything before her eyes even turned a bit blue. She had to steady herself against the nearby wall to keep from falling, and Boheng hurriedly stepped forward to support the nun's arm.

After a moment, Gerdin felt she had eased up slightly. Her gaze swept over the old newspapers on the ground once more, and it was only then that she noticed many of the newspapers had square-sized gaps—clearly the marks of having been cut out.

Gerdin's brow furrowed tightly. "What are you doing? Making scrapbooks?"

"I..."

"Where are the things you cut out? Where did they go?"

"...Sorry." Boheng lowered his head, completely failing to answer the question directly—nor could he have answered voluntarily.

Sister Gurdin flared up again, but this time she did not yell at Boheng. Instead, with a trembling voice, she bowed her head toward the direction outside the window and whispered a confession.

When her confession ended, she first removed the key from Boheng's neck, then grabbed the boy by the back of the collar with one hand, shoved him into the iron cage where Hesta had previously been confined, and ruthlessly clicked the heavy lock shut.

"I'll deal with you later..." Having said that, the nun's gaze turned coldly toward Hesta. "Hesta, come here."

Hesta instinctively took a step back. "...I should be punished together with Boheng, Miss Gurdin."

"You think you can escape? We'll talk about punishment later!" Gerdin snapped fiercely. "The Director heard about what happened during the day from someone, and she said she wants to talk to you personally—you are coming with me to the Director's lounge right now!"

Hesta was clearly stunned for a moment. "...Now? At this time?"

"Yes, right now."

Hesta glanced at Boheng—this was actually good news. At least the Director wouldn't be as unreasonable as Sister Gurdin. Besides, if she went to talk to the Director about Boheng now, maybe the old woman could help intercede with Sister Gurdin...

"Don't dawdle!"

Hesta did not linger any longer. She followed Sister Gurdin toward Director Elma's lounge.

Director Elma was the oldest person at Saint Anne Abbey. She and Miss Gurdin were like a loving mother and a strict mother here; whenever the children were ordered to be punished by Miss Gurdin for various mistakes, Director Elma would find ways to alleviate the suffering the children had to endure.

Only about a month ago, the old Director accidentally fell backward in the cellar and broke both of her hands, so Miss Gurdin had arranged everything this past month.

Having lost Director Elma's protection, everyone lived in trepidation.

As they neared the lounge, Miss Gurdin's footsteps suddenly slowed. She looked back at Hesta. "The Director is still recuperating right now, so you are not allowed to mention Boheng's matter tonight to her—if you have any conscience left, don't make her worry over you people anymore!"

"...Okay, Miss Gurdin," Hesta replied in a low voice. She could sense Miss Gurdin's suppressed sob and her reddened eyes—the nun must be feeling heartbroken for the Director at this moment.

Neither spoke again until they arrived before the Director's lounge.

"Director Elma needs good sleep right now," Sister Gurdin admonished once more. "I'll wait for you right here, and you aren't to stay inside for too long either. Come right back out when you're done."

"Okay." Hesta breathed a slight sigh of relief—as long as Miss Gurdin didn't enter the room with her, she could have a deep conversation with the Director.

Hesta bowed to Sister Gurdin, turned, pushed the door open, and stepped into the lounge.

This lounge was also the Director's office; the old woman both lived and worked here, and Hesta was very familiar with the place.

Only today, the moment she stepped inside, she smelled a foul, rotting stench. She walked quickly to the wall and opened the window to air out the room—the windows here were always open previously, but tonight they were tightly shut.

The lounge had no lights on, burning only a dim white candle as in the medieval period. The soft glow of the flame illuminated the outlines of everything in the room. Hesta saw a stack of documents pressed down on the desk by the window, with a long-dried fountain pen resting on the paper. Both the nib and the barrel had gathered dust, making it look as though no one had used it for a long time.

Hesta picked up the fountain pen, carefully wiped it with her clothes, replaced the cap, and reinserted it into the pen holder.

A familiar voice came from the bed not far away. "Jane? Is that you?"

Hesta immediately turned around to answer. "It's me, Director."

The candle fire by the bed illuminated the gauze curtains on the bed. Behind the curtains, Elma's shadow faintly emerged.

"Come over here."

Hesta immediately trotted over. As she gazed at the Director behind the gauze curtains, recalling the old woman's weak voice just now, her nose suddenly stung.

"You've caused trouble again." A hint of a smile carried in the old woman's voice. "I heard Flosang mention what happened during the day, so I had Sister Gurdin call you over... Do you want to eat that squirrel?"

Hesta's face flushed abruptly. She lowered her head to gaze at her own toes, and although she had many words she wanted to say, not a single one came out when she opened her mouth.

A chuckle came from behind the gauze curtain. "It doesn't matter, Jane."

"I know this was wrong," Hesta said softly. "It won't happen again."

"No, no, no... Jane, you were right." Director Elma's voice carried an old-age-specific tremble. "Squirrels... are very delicious."

For a moment, Hesta thought she had misheard, until a hand wrapped in gauze reached out from inside the gauze curtain and laid flat before Hesta's eyes—a rotting, bloody rat lay shockingly in the old woman's palm.

Following the corner of the lifted gauze curtain, Hesta finally realized the source of the fishy stench in the room—Director Elma's bed was piled with dead squirrel skins, and she sat amidst this stinking, rotting mountain of flesh, covered in blood and filth.

Beneath the bed's gauze curtain, a pale and haggard old face slowly drew near. She was extremely emaciated, yet her eyes bulged out more than ever before.

That inhuman face then revealed a kindly smile once more.

"If you want to eat, then eat. Right now... I'll watch you eat."