That night.
The rustling, gnawing sound of rats grew louder.
Her fingernails seemed to have broken, and blood covered her fingers.
She seemed to have a new job.
Shirley no longer needed to hide in the gaps between the gears like the others. Every day, she had to go into the room they were forbidden to enter, and when she returned at night, she brought fresh food for every one of them. Yet she seemed to grow more haggard by the day. She was no longer as cheerful and lively as before.
At night.
The sound of rats gnawing grew louder and louder.
Until one day.
She woke her in the pitch-black darkness of sleep. Her face seemed to carry that same cheerful expression she used to wear. She placed a few coins in her hand and told her.
"We can go find Auntie now."
That very night, for the first time, she lifted the wooden board covering that corner in front of her. She had earned that spot through sheer strength over the past two years, and it was the best spot in the cellar. She had always been unapproachable. Whenever a child tried to get close, she beat them back. She would not even let her approach it.
And when the board was lifted.
She saw the deep tunnel.
It turned out that the sound every night had not been rats gnawing, but her digging, little by little.
She told her that it had taken more than a year to dig her way through. It was damp here, and rats could burrow and bring back crumbs from outside. That meant they could dig their way out. This place led to the outside.
And that very night.
She took her through the tunnel, crawling beneath the factory's underground gears,