Chapter 205: The Second Blood Granting and the Old Building Investigation
Yu Sheng and Little Red Riding Hood spent a long time talking about Squirrel, and about a mysterious “descent” that happened eighty-six years ago—an event hardly anyone knew about.
Meanwhile, Little Red Riding Hood shared many stories of that old Orphanage with Yu Sheng, as well as bits of her everyday life inside the “Fairy Tale” organization.
“They see that silly boy over there with the wavy hair? The one chatting with Long Haired Girl? That’s the Red Dragon who fell down earlier. He’s just like the ‘King,’ in that his symbol is tied to a certain ‘classic story image’ but isn’t linked to a single specific tale. His code name is ‘Dragon Slayer.’ Of course, he’s not a real dragon—nowhere near that powerful.
“Why does a ‘Dragon Slayer’ look like a dragon himself? Because [a slayer of dragons eventually becomes the evil dragon]. Sometimes, when he enters a nightmare, he just skips straight to being the defeated Red Dragon. In that Red Dragon form, he can’t fly; his only trick is dropping out of the sky in all sorts of poses to squash people. Sometimes he plays the role of the Dragon Slayer from before he turns evil, summoning that same beaten Red Dragon from above. Either way, it’s just about falling out of the sky and crashing on people.
“Sleeping Beauty hardly ever talks because she loves sleeping so much. She sleeps during the day, and she sleeps at night. I’ve always envied her ability to doze off anytime. But she says that even in her dreams, she feels half-awake, so she’s always sleepy and tired. Her greatest wish is to find the most comfortable pillow on earth and sleep on it forever.
“Dorothy can talk to every kind of machine, even those without a Machine Spirit. The moment she chats with them, they start acting as if they do have one—yes, it’s that idea of ‘giving a heart to the Tin Man.’ Dorothy can bring steel to life for a while. She often uses that power to trick vending machines into giving her an extra drink, or to keep making phone calls even when her account is out of balance. I’m pretty envious of that.
“But the one I’m most jealous of is Little Mermaid—she isn’t here today. Her singing is beautiful. She never has to go out on missions. She streams with a virtual avatar, and a few hours of singing makes her more money than I earn in a week. Me? I can’t carry a tune at all.
“Still, she has her troubles… Whenever she bathes, her scales fall out at random, clogging the drain. Even when she’s in human form, she keeps finding scales in the bathroom. Funny thing is, she actually can’t swim. Bet you didn’t see that coming.
“Oh, and that girl over there, the one with the super-long code name—‘the little girl who sells matchsticks’? We mostly call her ‘Matchstick.’ She’s an expert in fire-starting—an absolute master. In winter, when the Orphanage’s heater doesn’t work, we rely on her to burn stuff. But I heard the city’s upgrading the heating system next year, so she won’t need to feed the boiler anymore. Listen, don’t get on her bad side—she gets real hot-tempered when she sparks a flame.”
Little Red Riding Hood spoke endlessly, sitting on a high dirt mound with Yu Sheng, watching their companions off in the distance. A faint smile stayed on her face the whole time, like an older sister talking about her rowdy family. She seemed proud yet fond of them all.
After a while, those teenagers built a grand bonfire in the open wilderness.
They used the brambles Summoned by Sleeping Beauty—wild roses that burned fiercely. The flames soared high, illuminating the dull gray expanse. As Yu Sheng had expected, this barren land that felt like a realm of the dead was lively for the first time.
The many Cursed Children in this sheltered wasteland gathered around the fire, hooting and hollering, singing and dancing in off-key voices, with King meowing in between.
Before long, Foxy and Irene joined in the fun, with the little doll floating in circles above the fire—looking seconds away from igniting its own frame—while Foxy launched Fox Fire into the sky like fireworks. Yu Sheng got dragged over too, serving as the “good-luck charm” in front of the bonfire.
He felt as if he were taking part in some strange but cheerful sacrificial rite. He was surrounded by these excited “worshippers,” or perhaps he was like a chaperone forced into a wild school festival with these dancing children. All he could do was stand there with an awkward but polite smile.
[Actually, this isn’t so bad,] he thought.
Eventually, this first gathering of the Cursed Children in their Sheltering Wasteland drew to a close.
Early next morning, Yu Sheng went to the Orphanage. According to the plan, today was the day they would do a round of “Blood Granting” injections for the younger Cursed Children.
He sat in the Orphanage’s kitchen area. Snow White was standing nearby with a serious look on her face, stirring a large pot of suspicious-looking “nutritious vegetable soup.” Yu Sheng eyed the soup uncertainly. “Um… Is this really okay? It doesn’t look too appetizing…”
“Trust my cooking,” Snow White said as she stirred, looking up to give Yu Sheng a brief glance. “It might look strange, but the little ones love it. Now hold on a moment. Let it cool off, or else you’ll end up cooking your own blood when you put it in…”
Yu Sheng nodded. “Oh. Got it.”
Standing nearby was another Long Haired Girl, draped in a shawl. She looked sixteen or seventeen and radiated a gentle, calm aura. She mumbled, “I still think we should’ve used strawberry slush. Cold temperatures cover the taste of blood, and the color wouldn’t look so weird.”
“It’s winter, Big Sis,” Snow White shot back, rolling her eyes. “Below freezing. If we hand out slush to all these little kids first thing in the morning, sure, they’ll be happy—but do we even have enough bathrooms for everyone? I think you just want some slush for yourself.”
That gentle Long Haired Girl smiled shyly, while Yu Sheng studied her face. He had a nagging feeling he’d met her before but couldn’t place it. After a moment, he just blurted out, “Which one are you again?”
“We met last night,” she said, her voice soft. She raised one hand with a small wave. “I was standing behind Long Haired Girl at the bonfire in the wasteland. Before that, I was on top of the beanstalk.”
Yu Sheng tried to recall that scene. At last, an image popped into his mind of someone standing in flames on a giant beanstalk, cackling about making everyone see their great-grandma through the blaze.
He clapped his hands. “Oh, right! You’re the one who wanted everyone to see their great—”
He didn’t get to finish. The young woman was already blushing and waving her hands frantically. “I—I’m not usually like that. It’s just that once I start a fire, I lose control…”
Yu Sheng’s mouth twitched. “So your code name is the Matchstick Girl, right? You can control fire and illusions.”
“That name’s too long. People usually just say ‘Matchstick.’” She gave a shy smile that looked worlds apart from the person he had glimpsed, giggling in the flames. “Little Red Riding Hood probably exaggerated a bunch of stuff about me when she introduced us.”
“…She exaggerated things about everyone,” Yu Sheng recalled how Little Red Riding Hood had described each member of Fairy Tale with elaborate ‘special notes.’ He couldn’t help but laugh. “But it was obvious she really likes you all.”
Matchstick smiled—a warm, bright expression.
Just then, Snow White set down the ladle and tested the soup’s temperature. She turned to Yu Sheng with a playful, knowing grin.
“All right, Brother. Time to add the blood.”
Yu Sheng blinked, taken by surprise. “Brother?”
“Long Haired Girl and I were gonna call you ‘uncle,’ but Little Red Riding Hood said you’re not that much older than we are. So ‘Brother’ it is.” Snow White’s eyes shone as she picked up a chopping knife that glinted coldly under the kitchen light. “Now, do you want to cut yourself, or should I do it for you?”
Seeing her ready with the knife, Yu Sheng broke out in a cold sweat. “I’ll do it myself! I’ll do it myself…”
At that same time, in the underground section of the Orphanage’s west wing, Little Red Riding Hood stood in a dim corridor that had long fallen into disrepair. She frowned slightly as she studied the old passage and then glanced down at the worn-out plans in her hands.
Beside her was a silent mercenary dressed in heavy armor. He was tall, dark-skinned, and powerfully built, his face hidden by a sturdy helmet. On the chest plate was an emblem of a cat’s head. Perched on his shoulder, “King” the cat surveyed the surroundings with curiosity.
“Is this the spot?” King asked suddenly.
“Hard to say,” Little Red Riding Hood replied, shaking her head. “The clues Squirrel gave us were never very clear. She only recalled the point of impact happening in the middle of the Orphanage’s courtyard. But the layout back then isn’t the same as it is now. The old ‘courtyard’ overlaps with part of the present west wing. We’re not sure how much overlap there was or where the exact center used to be.
“Anyway, this is the construction plan for the west wing. It’s the most reliable blueprint I could find in the archive. We’re probably standing here, which might match the courtyard position Squirrel remembered. Right above our heads would be the courtyard—back then, at least.
“And here is where I saw that ‘thorny shadow’ earlier. To the north-northeast, just a bit from here, above us is an outer wall of the west wing.”
King leaned forward to study the old plan, tapping at it with one paw. “I don’t know why you’re showing me this. I’m just a cat—I can’t read.”
“…Cut it out. I saw you doing Snow White’s physics homework with my own eyes.”
King glanced away, embarrassed. “[She bribed me with cat treats.]”
Little Red Riding Hood gave him a scornful look, then waved at him to drop the act. “Use that so-called ‘CatCat intuition’ you always brag about. Do you sense anything?”
King narrowed his eyes, stretching on the mercenary’s shoulder with a lazy yawn. “Hmm, I don’t really sense anything unusual. But isn’t it strange that there aren’t even any mice here?”
He glanced around in mild suspicion as they continued their investigation.