Ch1 - Arduous but heartwarming journey of two children

At the crack of dawn, two grimy children stood on the platform of the Wright Train Station.

The busy pedestrians were like moving blurs. They shuttled around them like swarming fish in a stream. 

The slightly taller one was about 10 years old and their handful of worldly possessions was carried on his back. He wore a sackcloth jacket that was not only a size too big but was also riddled with patches, and his right shoe had gone missing. His foot was covered in mud and the cold made it red and swollen.

The shorter one was around 7. He was bundled up tightly like a zongzi and could only move stiffly like a puppet. Had he not been holding onto his gege with an iron grip, he would have crouched to the ground and fallen asleep that very second. The bitter wind blowing constantly chilled them to their bones and was torture for their spent minds.

It was hard to imagine, but the two children had been on the road since yesterday afternoon. In the past 10 hours, the longest break they took was 30 minutes. They didn’t dare to drink from the river that had been contaminated with corpses so they begged for water and fought with stray dogs for bread to eat.

If any of the gentlemen here knew that the two children were from Mantesshire, the place of “Satan’s Curse” that dominated the news headline, their expressions would be unpredictable. 

The railway shook and finally, the steam train came to a slow stop in the station.

The train whistled and steam rushed from the engine, enveloping the station and fogging the triangular glass roof.

In the dense steam, the bigger child picked up the smaller child and hopped onto the train.

He walked through multiple train carriages before finding a seat.

When he sat down, the woman sitting near them frowned and got up. Who in their right mind would want to sit with two filthy beggars?

The train soon set off again.

The small child could find bottomless energy even when he was exhausted. Looking left and right, he asked in a soft, immature voice, “Gege, where are we going?”

The same question he had asked more than 10 times since yesterday, but he never tired of it. 

“France.”

“Why are we going to France?”

“To find Bill.” Morel replied softly and stroked the pendant around his neck. It was the only keepsake of his parents.

The small child widened his eyes, “The devil? Why are we searching for the devil?” 

“It’s not the devil, it’s a person’s name. He might be able to help us.”

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

“Qtja j kflgv cjwf…atfc ktfc klii kf ufa atfgf?”

Zbgfi vgfk j qlmaegf bc atf obuus klcvbk, “Obbx, kf’gf tfgf gluta cbk. Qf’ii ajxf atf agjlc ab atf tjgybg jcv ybjgv j rtlq, jcv ogbw atfgf kf’ii ub vbkc…la klii qgbyjyis ajxf jybea 4 vjsr.”

“Ktja’r rb ojg!” Ktf rwjii mtliv ugewyifv. 

“Is Hania not brave enough for the adventure?”

It worked like a charm and the small child exclaimed, “Hania is a man! I’m not afraid!”

Morel smiled and his dusty hand patted the small child’s unruly golden curls.

A moment passed and the small child brought up what he was the most concerned about. 

“Will Bill give us bread to eat?”

“Yes. He will…”

Hearing this, the small child was over the moon. He hummed cheerfully for half a day and told his gege, “Then we must quickly find Bill and have him buy us lots and lots of bread. We’ll take them back home and share them with everyone! And we’ll bring grandma over too! I bet everyone would wake up then!”

Morel pressed his lips together. He didn’t reply. His head was lowered and the expression on his face couldn’t be seen. 

When he thought of how young his didi was, Morel felt the need to protect him. He kept him at home and had him practice writing and drawing so he wouldn’t learn of those terrifying things. Their hometown had been condemned by God. Everyone there either died or went mad.

The calamity took a mere half a month to destroy the entire village.

It began with a few people feeling itchy all over. Their bodies turned black and lumps appeared on their stomachs and underarms. As time passed, they were covered in black boils, vomited blood, and their body smelled foul. Death came in just a few days. Even the livestock became sick. All 2,000 sheep in the ranch died and their bodies smelled so putrid that even the wild beasts found them unpalatable. Within a week, half of the village was gone, and the bullock cart was incomparably busy every day as it moved the corpses into the ditches and the river.

The doctors tried everything. Morel had seen little girls being drained of their blood in order to cure them, but they still died in the end. People smoked their homes, took laxatives and emetics, and even rubbed dried turds on the lumps and bathed in urine…but nothing worked. The people with money had long fled, but the people without money could only wait for death at home. 

Unfortunately for them, their grandma had been infected as well. When she learned that the cursed village was about to be sealed off, she told Morel to flee with his didi. She wanted them to go to the Strand Union Workhouse in Southern England. Although that place would be a nightmarish hell for the two children, at the very least there was still a chance of survival!

With his grandma’s remaining savings and her letter of introduction, Morel headed to the Strand Union Workhouse. But halfway there, he decided to take a gamble—one he’ll make with his life as the wager to cling onto uncertain hope.

He didn’t take his didi to the Strand Union Workhouse and instead, bought train tickets to the harbor of the English Channel.

They definitely couldn’t go to that place…he knew what it was like. He had previously spent half a year there and it was the most terrifying period of his life. 

If the children sent to the Strand Union Workhouse couldn’t be self-sufficient, their chances of survival were extremely bleak. Absurd deaths occurred there every day. A child would be crushed to death while the beds were being flipped and another child might fall into the hearth while trying to keep warm…then perhaps, while taking a bath, a child would be scalded to death by accident…in any case, they were just orphans. Even if one of them died, no one would miss them.

Older orphans had to work. They woke up at 6 o’clock every morning and worked until 10 o’clock at night. The three meals a day consisted of gruels, an onion distributed twice a week to each person, and an extra half roll of bread they received on Sundays. The only time they got to eat an entire piece of bread was during a holiday. Wanting more was a sin, one deserving of lashes and confinement. He endured such torment every day like an idiot, and the fact that he was still alive half a year later was simply a miracle. He stole bread in the middle of the night, found opportunities to drink the thin porridge leftover, and fought with his Master’s dog to eat its food (it had bits of meat). That was how he managed to survive.

If he had to enter that hell, he would rather go to France and find Bill.

Bill, a taboo name, but like a small ray of sunlight, it constantly appeared in Morel’s memory. But laughably, it was like a dream he had made up. He didn’t have a single piece of evidence. 

Often, when he fell asleep, he seemed to be holding a candlestick and was wandering in a damp place. He heard the clock ticking, or maybe it was the sound of dew falling into the water. His heart pounded. He was full of curiosity but was also a little afraid.

Then a hazy figure would appear before him. He was terrified but his curiosity still won out in the end. He approached the silhouette step by step…until he felt a slightly cold but pleasant sensation on his cheek.

“I’m Morel. And you?”

His voice echoed in the damp air. 

The hazy figure’s voice was cold and exceptionally clear, “Bill.”

Bill.

…Bill…Bill…　　

The name was branded into Morel’s heart. 

He didn’t know why he would have such a memory. He couldn’t remember anything from when he was young. He only remembered things starting from when he was 8, during the period where he was still at the Strand Union Workhouse.

He always treated that name like a protective charm.

A stubborn conviction rooted in his life. He believed that this person named Bill was his guardian angel. That’s why, even if he was beaten viciously, even if he was hungry, even if he was in pain, everything was alright. He believed that one day, Bill would come for him. Like God descending from heaven.

But Morel was already 12. And Bill still didn’t come. 

He thought. Maybe this was God’s will. Since Bill didn’t come to him, he and his didi would go to Bill instead.

But where was Bill?

One time, Morel had secretly looked at his file at the Strand Union Workhouse, but the only thing he learned was that he came from France. He was young but he wasn’t stupid. In the enormous land of France, it wouldn’t be easy to look for someone!

And he had used all of their money to buy the train tickets. The few cents they had left wouldn’t even buy them hard bread! 

If he failed to find Bill…Morel clenched his fists.
……

As Morel was brooding, Hania pouted unhappily.

Morel raised his head. Behind his damp, golden lashes, his irises were a brilliant green and were beautiful even in the filth he was covered in. He reached out and patted didi’s head, just like how their grandma used to, “Grandma is old and doesn’t have the strength to walk, so she can’t come with us to find Bill. But when we have bread, gege will bring it back for her to eat, so don’t worry about it.”

His didi giggled happily. 

At this time, their stomachs began rumbling.

Morel opened the burlap bag and took out their greatest treasure—a quarter block of cheese. Hania stared at the cheese with round eyes and swallowed his saliva.

Morel took out the dagger and sliced off a third of the cheese, pushing it gently to Hania. Hania immediately transformed into a wolf cub and used his mouth to take the cheese, savoring it happily. Morel ate a small piece as well. When the dense, creamy taste touched his tongue, it spread to his entire mouth in an instant, making his heart full with a sense of extraordinary bliss.

He saw his didi staring at the last piece of cheese. Morel had planned to give it to him later, but seeing his appearance, he couldn’t bear to save it anymore and tossed the last piece of cheese into the little guy’s mouth. 

Hania was overjoyed and rubbed against his gege like a small animal, tickling Morel into laughter.

It was only a small piece of cheese, but it felt like a grand holiday feast for the two brothers.

The modicum of cheese couldn’t make them full, but it ebbed the feeling of hunger.

Not long after, Hania was drooling from the side of his mouth. His head drooped down and it constantly knocked against the wall… 

Morel saw this and could only come to his didi’s side. He used his sleeve and wiped his didi’s mouth and allowed his didi to lean against him as he slept. Morel took off his jacket and wrapped his didi tightly.

He copied his grandma and gently patted his didi on the back while humming a familiar tune. The slow and calm hymn had a hypnotizing effect and his didi’s breathing became even before long.

Morel, however, was unable to sleep a wink.

When they reach the harbor, he must find a way to sneak onto the merchant ship to France. If they were caught, they would be given a beating if they were lucky and be thrown into the sea for the fish if they weren’t! He knew how to swim, but what about Hania? What if there were sharks?