MPBGS 34

Chapter : 34

Alright, let’s calm down. Just because we heard a ghost speak doesn’t mean we should panic or act like we know something—ghosts will latch onto that. We need to completely ignore it.

“That’s strange. There’s evidence of cooking, but no evidence of eating.”

Maybe that was some sort of offering? That would explain why there’s no sign of it being eaten.

“Could it be that Troy ate it?”

Daisy is probably right. Come to think of it, Troy was sneaking around earlier. He must’ve eaten it as a snack! Logically, there’s no way a ghost could be involved… Or wait, this is inside a novel, so maybe it could?

“Looks like there’s nothing more to see here.”

I’m definitely not suggesting we leave the dining hall quickly because I’m scared. As soon as we stepped out, we heard a strange noise again. This time, it didn’t seem like I was the only one who heard it.

“What’s that sound?”

Following the direction of the noise, we found a room tucked away in the farthest corner.

“What’s this room?”

“It’s the director’s office…”

The director’s office is in the most remote spot. Unlike other orphanages that embezzle money while abusing children, this one seems honest. Well, that explains why Daisy can still hear things.

Kanna pressed her ear to the door.

“It’s coming from here.”

So the sound is definitely coming from inside. Troy should be with Jelly, right? Could it be a thief? Or maybe one of the kidnapper’s accomplices is hiding in there. They must have sensed someone and hid here.

As we listened carefully, there was a scratching sound. Scratch, scratch—like someone was scraping their nails against a wooden wall.

But if it was an accomplice hiding after sensing someone, why would they deliberately make noise to draw attention? Is there really an accomplice in there? Are we even dealing with a person? After hearing the starving ghost earlier, everything seemed suspicious.

“I-I can’t go in there.”

“Scared?”

“…Yes.”

Daisy shook her head, terrified. Maybe she’s afraid that a ghost might appear too? At least I’m not the only one trembling in fear.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

Seeing that she wasn’t alone seemed to reassure Daisy. Even if there were a technique to knock Troy out with a single hit, it’s understandable to be scared if the opponent is a ghost that defies physical laws.

“I’ll open it.”

And there’s Kanna, see her? That calm, unflinching composure! Kanna seems immune to this situation, fitting for the stoic heroine.

Until we open the door, we won’t know whether there’s an accomplice or a ghost inside. Is this what they call “Schrödinger’s director’s office”?

Kanna opened the door without hesitation. Inside, there was nothing. Nothing was visible, yet the scratching continued. Crazy… it must be a ghost…!

Tears almost welled up. I couldn’t bring myself to enter the room out of fear.

“Stop… please stop.”

Daisy was even more serious than me. Kanna, unfazed by our trembling, started opening every door inside the room. Not scared at all…? True to her heroine persona, her courage is incredible.

When Kanna opened the wardrobe, something suddenly jumped out.

“Huh!”

I heard a gasp right next to me. Me? I’d been holding my breath for a while.

“A rat?”

It was just a rat that had jumped out of the wardrobe. It quickly disappeared from sight. Pudding yawned, utterly unconcerned. A cat that doesn’t care about rats… I never realized how much it proves that Pudding isn’t just a cat, but a beast-person.

“So the scratching sound was just the rat in the wardrobe.”

Exactly. Now there’s no more noise. Not a ghost, not an accomplice—just a rat. All that tension suddenly felt empty and ridiculous.

“Miss, look at this.”

Called by a voice, I stepped into the room. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the air seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. Probably just my imagination.

On the floor illuminated by Kanna, a familiar shape appeared.

“A summoning circle?”

Why is this here? I was bewildered until I remembered the paper Gabriel had shown us before.

The monastery priest had successfully summoned after seeing the Donau painting. Maybe this is similar. Since this is the director’s office, perhaps the director—whom people liked—drew it?

“Daisy.”

I thought Daisy might know something, but she was backing away. She didn’t get far though—she bumped into someone behind her. Daisy almost fell, but Jelly, standing right there, caught her gracefully.

“Jelly?”

“Jelly. Why are you here?”

I hope this isn’t some contrived romantic fantasy plot just to have Jelly catch a staggering Daisy. Did Troy step out knowing when he would wake up? Before I could say anything, Jelly quickly offered an excuse.

“She said she really needed to speak.”

As Jelly nodded, Troy, who was cowering behind, appeared. Daisy’s face immediately crumpled. Troy awkwardly grabbed Jelly’s sleeve, but Jelly brushed him off like dust. Troy clenched his fists, then bowed his head.

“Daisy, I’m sorry… I couldn’t stop Mom.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you talking about the director?”

Troy spoke as if carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Mom… she took the children away…”

“What nonsense are you saying?”

Daisy repeated in confusion. The director is the one who kidnapped the children? Not Troy? Isn’t this just a lame excuse to buy time?

“Don’t lie.”

“I know it’s hard to believe.”

Troy rummaged through the drawers.

“It should be in here somewhere…”

The drawer was stiff, so I opened it for him. He had just regained consciousness after fainting, so maybe he was weak.

“Th-thank you.”

Troy seemed embarrassed to receive my help, greeting the empty air without making eye contact. Hello? Who are you waving at?

He found what he was looking for among the papers.

“It’s grown again…”

What’s grown? I read the paper Troy pulled out. Daisy, curious, quickly entered the room.

“What… what is this?”

“Evidence that Mom sold the children. I only realized I had this paper recently.”

The first thing that caught my eye was a flood of numbers. I couldn’t yet gauge their value; they were lined up with dates next to them.

These entries, written at least once a year, sometimes twice, seemed to be the ransom amounts.

So the kidnapper isn’t Troy, but the director Daisy praised for being kind?

I’d made a huge mistake. I completely forgot the creative principle that the person least likely to be guilty is often the culprit.

“Director! Director!”

The director, who had been distracted, finally snapped out of it at Lannen’s call. But Lannen’s glare at the child indicated she wanted Mary to speak, not the director.

“Director… my arm hurts.”

“…Alright.”

As the director released the arm, a clear handprint remained on Mary’s arm. He must have gripped it hard—she’d probably get a bruise. He pressed his forehead, realizing he hadn’t intended to be violent but had applied force unconsciously as the situation escalated.

While massaging her arm, Mary suddenly looked up at the ceiling.

“Troy must be here again.”

That foolish, stubborn son must be searching the orphanage again. He’s never listened since he was young. Unlike Mary, who adores her son, this son has always been contrary. There’s a saying that no parent can outmatch their child—perhaps it fits here.

“Troy?”

Lannen also heard the footsteps. Didn’t he already come once while we were asleep? Why is he here again? Lannen soon realized there was more than one set of footsteps.

‘He must have come with the guards to find us!’

Troy must have brought reinforcements. Lannen felt hope seep through the cracks of despair.

Just a few days ago, the director we trusted and loved suddenly started locking children underground. At first, it seemed like a cruel prank, but seeing Melec tied up in the basement revealed the seriousness.

Even then, only older, perceptive children like Yulma and Lannen noticed the situation. Younger children like Mary continued to rely on the director out of habit, despite sensing something was wrong.

So Yulma must have told the children they were being sold to raise their awareness.

‘Will they notice the basement?’

Lannen realized that the orphanage had a basement, something she never knew. Troy also seems unaware, wandering only upstairs. The director hadn’t told his own son about it.

We’ll need to search the director’s office thoroughly… even if we find it, could we open it? Once, I tried following the director when he went to fetch meals from the basement, but the door was locked tight. Only the director knew how to open it.

“Troy must have brought someone with him.”

Unfortunately, the director also realized there were multiple intruders.

‘That son of mine always defies me.’

Mary hadn’t told her son about the basement, planning to reveal it later when she thought he would cooperate.

“I need to hurry.”

We need to finish before Troy and the people he brought find the entrance. Mary scratched her arm anxiously. The red mark from her sharp nails was newly emphasized.