Chapter – 25
Croport asked Sasha about the past.
Marie absentmindedly flipped through a book that didn’t really enter her eyes, lost in thought.
So that’s why he’s been hovering around us.
To think he had been circling them like a baby bird, worrying about the wound she had suffered, yet never approaching directly.
Looking into Sasha’s situation must have been for the same reason.
He thought Sasha wouldn’t feel burdened because she’s still young.
Marie smiled weakly.
Croport was cold yet kind, intelligent yet foolish.
But that very heart of his moved Marie.
“Unni, where are you going?”
“I’m going to see Croport. Can you stay here for a moment?”
Sasha tilted her head in confusion, but she usually listened to Marie, so she nodded.
Marie quietly walked away.
It was still before breakfast.
If it was the lazy Croport, he would probably still be lingering in bed and only barely come out before eight.
Marie headed toward Croport’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she raised her small fist.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Four knocks echoed as she called for him.
Croport looked down at Marie, who sat across from him, his face uneasy.
“…Are you really going to talk about it?”
“Yes. I’m okay.”
“I’m fine too. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Then why did you ask Sasha?”
Croport’s mouth snapped shut.
He had overlooked the fact that children would talk to each other.
Living without much contact with others for so long, Croport realized his mistake and sighed.
“Mariposa, I only asked because I needed to know what kind of pain you two have been through.”
His pale blue eyes blinked slowly, filled with caution.
“You can just tell me about anything that might trouble you while staying here. You don’t have to… dig up painful memories.”
The corners of Marie’s lips rose gently.
Clenching her fists on her lap, she answered,
“Croport, I’m really okay.”
Of course, it wasn’t easy to reveal it right away.
But Marie, more mature than others her age, had enough composure to organize her thoughts and speak calmly.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt…
But she had already made up her mind.
Marie folded her hands, hiding their trembling.
“I can tell you.”
Croport silently watched her.
After studying her face carefully, he finally nodded.
Expecting the story to be long, he summoned a cup of warm tea in front of her.
Marie held the mug and hesitated.
Even though she had decided to tell him, opening her mouth was difficult.
After a long time searching for the right words, she spoke with a subdued expression.
“The reason I’m afraid of loud noises… it has nothing to do with my mother. My mother… was killed by a robber.”
“…A robber?”
Croport’s face hardened instantly.
Instead of speaking, he simply watched Marie as she recalled a scene from the past.
“My mother…”
For a moment, Marie’s green eyes darkened as they searched the empty air.
In a calm voice, the child began to tell the story of a winter night one year ago.
A narrow shack where cold wind slipped through the cracks.
Marie and Sasha huddled together under a thin piece of cloth, waiting for their mother, Molly.
“Unni… I’m cold.”
“Do you want to switch places? I think it’s less cold here.”
Sasha slowly sat up.
Marie pulled the small candle closer to her sister and wrapped the blanket around her again, hugging her tightly.
Sasha sighed deeply in the warm spot beside Marie.
“I’m sleepy. I wanna sleep.”
“Let’s wait a little longer. Mom will come.”
“She always came before bedtime…”
Marie didn’t answer.
Through the gaps in the wooden boards she could see the dark sky and scattered stars. It was fully night now.
Rubbing her sleepy eyes, Sasha asked,
“Why isn’t she coming?”
“Today is payday. She said she’d bring something delicious.”
“Something… yummy…”
Sasha smacked her lips.
Marie smiled faintly and shrank her shoulders.
Their mother had said she would receive her overdue wages. She would probably buy blankets, clothes, and food they hadn’t been able to afford.
Maybe she had too many things to carry. Maybe she had stopped somewhere because of the cold.
Marie kept thinking of such things to fight off sleep while patting Sasha.
But no matter how much time passed, Molly didn’t come home.
While holding the sleeping Sasha and looking outside, a sudden thought chilled her heart.
Recently, the father of another child nearby had also failed to return home.
The adults said he ran away because he couldn’t handle his sick wife and child.
Marie imagined Molly running away in the same way.
No… Mom would never do that.
They had already endured countless hardships to finally settle in this shack. Though wages had been delayed, she still had a job… and above all, there was Sasha.
But her mother not returning late into the night filled Marie with unease.
Eventually, she woke Sasha and went outside.
“Nooo… can’t we just sleep?”
“Let’s just go to the street ahead. I think Mom’s late because she’s carrying too many things.”
Eight years old.
An age where wandering a dark alley alone would be frightening.
That’s why Marie used the excuse that she couldn’t leave her little sister alone, holding Sasha’s warm hand as they walked.
They entered a familiar alley.
There was no one around, and the bitter cold made their teeth chatter.
Just as Sasha whined again about going home, Marie noticed someone lying in a corner.
A figure sprawled on the ground, breathing faintly.
Under the body, a dark sticky puddle spread across the ground.
Instinctively sensing something wrong, Marie tried to turn back with Sasha.
Until the moon emerged from behind the clouds.
Pale moonlight illuminated the person’s face.
“…Mom?”
Marie froze.
Trembling, she stepped closer.
As the moonlight fully lit the alley, she saw tangled blonde hair, a pale face, and Molly’s blue eyes filled with tears.
Marie stepped forward and felt something sticky under her foot.
Looking down—
Red blood covered her shoe.
She stared blankly between the pool of blood and Molly.
There were deep wounds in Molly’s neck and side.
Then Sasha ran forward.
“Mom!”
The little girl knelt beside Molly and grabbed her cold hand, crying.
“Mom, blood… blood… Unni, Mom is bleeding!”
Marie rushed forward too.
With trembling hands she checked the wounds and stammered,
“M-Mom… who did this? Were you stabbed? How… when…?”
Molly opened her mouth but couldn’t answer.
Tears streamed from her bright blue eyes.
Realizing the wounds were serious, Marie stood up.
Her mind went blank, ringing loudly.
“I’ll… I’ll get medicine. The pharmacist in the market will give us some.”
Her vision blurred, but she had to move.
As she tried to run off, Sasha grabbed her with bloodstained hands.
“Unni… what about me?”
“Sasha, stay with Mom. I’ll bring medicine and bandages.”
The little girl’s eyes trembled with fear.
“How long…?”
“I don’t know. It’s night now… but I’ll be quick. Stay with Mom. If someone passes by, ask them for help.”
You can do it, Sasha.
Marie wiped her sister’s tears.
Sasha was only three years old—barely able to form full sentences. Leaving her behind terrified Marie.
But Molly couldn’t move, and Marie had to run to the pharmacy.
“I’ll be back. Please stay with Mom. Mom, wait just a little longer.”
Every second mattered.
With those words, Marie ran into the deep darkness.
Sasha stood there silently, watching her sister disappear.
When Molly’s finger twitched, the child quickly grabbed it.
“Mom… Mom… it’s okay. You’ll be okay. Don’t be sick.”
Molly tried to speak, but only blood came out.
She looked into Sasha’s tear-filled blue eyes.
Then, filled with despair, she turned her gaze toward the alley where Marie had run.
She wanted to reach out her hand, but her arm was too weak to rise.
Dozens of minutes passed after Marie left.
Sasha rubbed Molly’s arms, hands, and shoulders to warm her cold body, but warmth never returned.
The child, weak against waiting, couldn’t fight the cold wind and the drowsiness creeping over her.
She spoke to Molly again and again.
She looked down the alley where Marie had disappeared.
Trying desperately to stay awake.
But eventually, Sasha began to doze off.
She woke and slept repeatedly.
Each time she woke, she held Molly’s body, growing colder and colder, crying.
Then she looked desperately down the silent street for Marie.
Sleep.
Wake.
Sleep.
Wake…
When Marie finally returned, panting and carrying a large bag—
Sasha was clutching Molly’s stiff, cold body, crying with her eyes wide open.
The bandages and medicine box fell onto the dawn-lit road.
A cold night.
Spilled blood.
And the sound of children crying like tolling bells.
That was how Molly died.
