Chapter 206

Chapter 206: Shadows

The Orphanage’s west wing has two basement levels. Level B1 is a half-underground floor with storage, mechanical rooms, and a multipurpose classroom. Level B2 holds the tunnel that links to the east wing, along with many old structures that are now abandoned. The Orphanage is so old that even its “new buildings,” the east and west wings, are already decades old. In their deepest places, the oldest parts, even the Orphanage’s “parents” rarely set foot.

Little Red Riding Hood only remembers being taken down to “explore” the west wing basement twice when she was very small, led by a few older kids. Back then it already looked dirty, worn, and forgotten. Now, more than ten years later, almost nothing has changed. The grimy concrete floors and peeling, blotchy walls give you the feeling they were always like this, the day it was built and the day it will fall.

But Little Red Riding Hood knows every part of this building still gets basic upkeep, even the corners that look forgotten. Volunteers sent by the Council come on a schedule to check all facilities and repair the power and water drainage system. The lords do what they can to care for the children here. So if anything truly strange had happened to these old tunnels under the west wing, the staff would have noticed.

After all, anyone sent here as a “volunteer” has received special training from The Door.

Since no report came in, that means the change happened very recently, at least after the last routine inspection.

King crouched lazily on the shoulder of the armored mercenary, but his feline slit pupils had already “scanned” the place many times: “Rats… cockroaches… oh, not even an ant. Use your good nose, Little Red Riding Hood. There’s a moldy smell in the air, but besides that, every other scent is too clean.”

A wavering wolf-shape rose from the shadow at Little Red Riding Hood’s feet. She frowned as her eyes swept the moldy corners of the tunnel walls: “Were there rats here before?”

King looked up at her like she had asked something foolish: “What a dumb question. Of course there were. Rats and cockroaches are the best survivors in the world. Even if people all die out, they won’t. I’ve been here many times. It used to be very lively.”

Little Red Riding Hood said nothing. She stared at the place that looked normal on the surface, her face growing tight. The ghostly Wolf Pack circled in and out beside her, giving small uneasy whines.

She spoke suddenly: “Let’s keep going. I want to see the connecting tunnel between the east wing and the west wing.”

King answered with a flick of his tail: “Okay.”

A fully armed action squad slipped through the shadows between buildings, drawing close to a target that looked ordinary.

This was on the edge of the old factory zone in the southern old city. Most buildings nearby were old apartments built thirty or forty years ago. On a normal day, many people would be outside at this time. Today the area was strangely quiet. It felt like an invisible force had pushed people off the streets. Even when someone far away glanced over and saw the out-of-place vehicles at the entrance and the strange devices standing on the open ground, their eyes moved away quickly and naturally, as if the whole block had dropped out of their attention.

A Special Affairs Bureau commander in a black uniform stood by a mobile Node device at the community entrance. He looked up at the target building, a six-story old block with white walls and a blue roof, bright under the blue sky. A few small “birds” circled the outer wall and sometimes drifted near a window on the third floor, while the forward team had already slipped inside and were reporting by radio.

The report crackled in his earpiece: “This is Hunter. We’ve reached the planned floor. Area secure. Waiting for the next order.”

The commander told them to hold, then turned to a young Special Affairs Bureau agent who had his head slightly bowed, sharing the birds’ vision: “Can you confirm what’s inside?”

One bird landed on the third-floor sill and craned its head toward the room.

The young agent answered quickly: “I can’t see the interior, but I sense residual spiritual waves. The target room has extraordinary power. Further sensing is blocked, so I can’t fix the exact positions. There’s interference.”

The commander curled his lip: “A classic cult trick. As long as we know they’re there… Hunter, prepare to breach the door.”

The reply came back at once: “Yes!”

A sharp ring cut through the office, stopping Song Cheng’s work. He grabbed the phone and glanced at the caller ID, and his face turned serious.

He spoke into the receiver: “Hello, it’s me. What’s the situation?”

A fast report poured through the line. Song Cheng stood up from behind his desk.

He snapped, voice hard: “What do you mean ‘all dead’? Be clear. Are the people taken by the Angel Cultists dead? Were innocents sacrificed at the scene? Or do you mean the original residents of the building…”

The commander on the other end spoke a few urgent sentences. Song Cheng’s face went stiff.

He burst out: “The damn cultists are all dead?!”

On the second-floor balcony of the east wing, Yu Sheng sat by the window, looking through the glass at the Dollheads doing outdoor activity on the playground. A group of kids ran wild under the lead of the older ones, shouting and laughing, and a small smile rose on his face.

It was a subtle feeling, but he could tell a faint link had formed between him and these children. He could even sense the light, carefree joy floating up from the yard.

Like today’s clear sky.

Irene csheepered onto the sill to look with him and sighed in the voice of a small doll: “Kids’ happiness is so simple. It would be perfect if they would stop chasing me all over the yard.”

Yu Sheng chuckled at the very put-upon little doll: “They like you. I saw it in the classroom just now. Two little girls even wanted to help you comb your hair, right?”

He shouldn’t have said it. Irene almost fell off the sill: “Don’t bring up that horrible thing! I saw them pull a doll’s head off to comb its hair. I was terrified!”

Foxy stood nearby, thinking hard. She broke her silence: “So now all the Cursed Children in this Orphanage are under the Benefactor’s blood craft, right?”

Irene kicked her feet on the sill: “Yep. The seventy-plus kids in the yard are all in Yu Sheng’s hands now…”

Yu Sheng glared at the doll: “Can you not pick that phrasing? What do you mean ‘in my hands’?”

Foxy ignored the bickering and kept on, steady and serious: “But that’s only a stopgap. Right now the Benefactor is shielding the children already affected by the Fairy Tale. New children will still be touched by it. We need to fix the root cause.”

Yu Sheng sighed: “Right. We still have to solve this from the source. I wonder what Little Red Riding Hood found… and I don’t know why, but I’ve been a little uneasy since a while ago.”

Irene’s face turned serious at once: “We can’t slack on that. Is your Spiritual Intuition giving a warning?”

Yu Sheng hesitated, thought carefully, then shook his head: “Not that bad. It’s only at the ‘wobbling’ stage. It hasn’t reached the ‘bouncy-bouncy’ stage yet.”

Irene stared at him: “When will you fix those insane metaphors? Who is supposed to understand you…”

Yu Sheng scratched his hair, but before he could speak again, a quick set of footsteps came from the hall and cut him off.

All three at the window turned toward the sound. Little Red Riding Hood came briskly down the corridor with a chubby tabby cat behind her.

One look at the girl’s face told Yu Sheng she had found something wrong.

He stepped forward and asked: “What did you find?”

Little Red Riding Hood waved a hand and said quickly: “The rats and cockroaches are gone from the west wing basement.”

Yu Sheng blinked, looked at Irene, and couldn’t react for a second. After a couple of beats he said, unsure: “Uh… congrats?”

Little Red Riding Hood glared at him: “Is that worth celebrating? That’s clearly abnormal. And I’m not done. King and I followed the west wing tunnels, and near the vent where the two wings connect, we found something…”

She whipped out her phone as she spoke, pulled up a photo, and handed it to Yu Sheng.

He took it, curious. The screen showed a picture taken in a hurry in the tunnel.

The light was poor, and something like a blur covered the lens, but he could still see on the wall many tight, layered shadows pressed close together.

Yu Sheng frowned and tried to make out what cast those shadows. After a while he drew in a breath.

Little Red Riding Hood said quietly: “Trees. When weak light passes through a forest, it throws shadows like this. In the west wing tunnel, the wall showed the Black Forest.”