EPISODE 09
A crack opened in the empty space, revealing a black void.
“Oh, it’s opening?”
It was the subspace created for her by Artia, her longtime friend and the Master of the Tower.
No mana needed.
No mana?
Yes! You can open it whenever and wherever you want. From now on, you can store all your medicinal herbs here. No need to pack them separately whenever you go out on medical calls.
Oh.
So? Do you like it?
Yes.
I’m much more useful than that Kainel fellow, aren’t I?
Yes.
Hehe!
It had been such a pleasing gift that she had given the answer he wanted without hesitation.
What made it even better was that there was no restriction on storage capacity. For Grace, it was perfect—she could keep countless herbs without trouble. And since preservation magic had been cast on it, it was all the more useful.
“He said it was linked to my soul.”
That had been Artia’s explanation when he gave her the subspace. Because it was connected to her very soul, there was no need for activation words—she could open it with nothing but a thought.
And it seemed true. Even though her body had changed, the space still remained bound to her.
“There should still be a few left in there.”
Ceres reached into the black void without hesitation and pulled out a sheet of dried paper tied with string.
Another of Artia’s creations, it was a magical item that transported the user to any place they desired the moment it was torn.
It really was a rare thing.
Back then, the amount of mana required for long-distance teleportation had been staggering.
Kainel had coveted it desperately.
Sell it to me. I’ll pay whatever you want.
No.
Why not?
Because then you’ll come to see Grace more often. I’d rather die than watch that.
Why don’t I let you find out how that feels? I’ll help you die.
Try it, if you can, you frozen corpse!
Enough! Kai, put that sword away! Alti, one more spell and you’re banned from entering for half a year!
Half a year?! Grace, that’s too much!
Silence! Both of you, out! Don’t you dare disturb the patients!
“Strange how they fought every time they met.”
Perhaps one was too cold, and the other too lively? People said opposites attracted, but those two proved otherwise.
In the end, Kainel had never once managed to use the teleportation paper.
“Gur Village… yes, Gur Village…”
Ceres checked the coordinates several times, then tore the paper.
A brilliant light burst forth, and in an instant, her figure vanished from the spot.
“Aeri, have you finished the meal distribution?”
“Yes, I just finished.”
A woman in her early twenties, Aeri, turned at the sound of the voice. A woman in her mid-thirties, Julie, approached her.
“Everyone seems pleased—meat dishes are a rare treat. We’ve been serving mostly vegetarian meals lately.”
“Yes.”
“But this meat… isn’t it the lowest grade that couldn’t be sold in the market—”
“Aeri. Watch your tongue.”
“Ah! Yes!”
Julie’s sharp rebuke made Aeri hastily cover her mouth.
“Remember—our nursing home only uses the finest ingredients. Understood?”
“Yes.”
Arnold Nursing Home stood on the outskirts of Gur Village, its white-walled building boasting an elegant facade. Many elderly patients resided there, supposedly cared for with the highest-quality ingredients and medicines.
But in truth, the reality was far different.
Expired food was the norm, and not once had the patients received the top-grade medicines listed on the invoices. It was a place dressed up in a façade of luxury.
And yet, it continued to operate without issue.
Most of the residents were frail, with little strength left in body or mind. Moreover, there was one more shared trait among them that made the institution’s misdeeds go unchecked:
None of them had visiting family.
The home encouraged guardians to refrain from visits “for the patients’ peace of mind,” and no one objected. On the contrary, families welcomed the excuse to ease their own guilt.
“What about the child in the last room?”
“I gave her the meal.”
“Did you watch her eat it?”
“Well, I…”
“Aeri!”
Julie’s voice rang out sharply for the first time.
“I-I was really busy! I practically handled all the meal service alone today.”
Though Aeri tried to defend herself, Julie’s fierce gaze didn’t waver.
Among the many patients, there was one who received particular attention: a seven-year-old girl named Yulia.
But that attention didn’t mean she was well cared for. Quite the opposite.
“Tch. Come with me.”
“Yes…”
Julie strode ahead, and Aeri reluctantly followed.
“But… Julie, why do we always have to check if that child finishes her meals? We don’t do that for anyone else.”
It was true their duty was to care for patients, but since when had they cared about details like this?
And more than meals—Yulia’s letters to her family were intercepted and stored away. All communication was cut off.
No other patient was isolated so completely.
“Just do as you’re told.”
“Yes…”
Under Julie’s piercing glare, Aeri fell silent. After all, whether the child was isolated or abandoned wasn’t her concern. She was paid to follow orders.
Click.
“Yulia, did you finish your—!”
Julie and Aeri froze mid-step.
“Wh-who are you?”
A stranger stood beside the sleeping girl. Slowly, she turned her head toward them, holding the child’s half-eaten soup bowl in her hands.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Julie rushed forward, trying to seize the bowl.
“Ah!”
But the woman stepped lightly back, evading her grasp with ease. She even steadied Julie before she could stumble.
Up close, her violet eyes gleamed with chilling coldness.
“So this is the food you call ‘the finest ingredients and top-grade medicine’?”
“Th-that…”
Julie and Aeri’s faces went pale. The soup was in such a pitiful state that the words “finest” and “top-grade” were laughable.
The woman wasn’t looking for an answer. Her gaze dropped back to the bowl.
“Interesting.”
Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles, but there was nothing pleasant about it.
Julie and Aeri felt their throats tighten as they swallowed nervously.
“Who… exactly are you?”
Julie finally forced out the question again. Surely this woman wasn’t staff. Could she be connected to the child? Family, perhaps?
Impossible.
The director had assured them—no one would ever come for Yulia. They only had to manage her quietly.
No matter what was done, there would be no consequences.
“…”
The woman gave no reply. She simply kept her gaze fixed on the sleeping child.
Then, at last, she spoke.
“…Her sister.”
“W-what?”
“I am this child’s sister.”
Oooh. I hate them so much.