Chapter 9: And What About Me?

Breakfast was simple: hot milk and fluffy white bread.

But for these children, this was already a dream-like meal.

They devoured the food as if they were starving, then waited obediently in the hall for Ryan to assign their tasks.

Ryan’s gaze swept over them, his mind already set on their training methods.

“Pippin,” he called out first.

“Here!” Pippin immediately straightened his small frame, his voice loud and clear.

Ryan pointed to the weed-overgrown courtyard outside the door. “See that yard? Run around it. You can’t stop until I tell you to.”

“Is it that simple?” Pippin’s eyes lit up. This was practically play for him. His specialty was parkour in the streets and alleys.

“Go on,” Ryan said without further explanation.

Pippin let out a cheer and dashed out like a bird released from a cage, running wildly around the courtyard.

Next, Ryan’s gaze fell upon Tom, the sturdiest of the group.

“Tom.”

“Sir.” Tom’s voice was deep and honest.

Ryan pointed to a pile of stones and rotten wood scattered in the corner of the courtyard due to years of neglect. “See that pile over there?”

Tom nodded.

“Fill a bag with those stones and swing it back and forth. This will train your wrist strength.”

“Remember, when you swing it, imagine you are wielding a blacksmith’s hammer… Train like this for a few days, and then I’ll get you a hammer of your own.”

“Understood…”

After Tom agreed, he walked to the pile of waste stone and began to fill the bag in silence.

One swing, another swing, lifting the bag, and another swing.

Though his body hadn’t fully grown yet, he swung it with such force that it created a fierce wind, giving the impression of the Whirlwind Hammer Technique.

After finishing all this, Ryan stopped looking at the two of them and turned his gaze to the thin and small Sam.

“Sam, come with me.”

He led Sam into the kitchen. The kitchen was large, but many places were covered in dust. Ryan dragged a bag of flour out of a cupboard and placed it on the workbench.

“Your task,” he pointed at the flour, “is to knead the dough. Mix it with water to form a dough ball.”

“That’s… that’s it?” Sam asked softly, thinking he would be doing some delicate work.

“Yes, it doesn’t matter if you don’t knead it well, it’s just that tonight’s bread might taste a little worse.”

After Ryan finished speaking, he paid him no more mind, leaving Sam alone to stare blankly at the bag of flour that was larger than his head.

Afterward, Ryan called out to Lisa.

“Lisa, the first floor of this building is now under your charge.” He stood in the center of the hall and looked around, “This house hasn’t been cleaned in a long time and is piled with all sorts of clutter. Your task is to organize the clutter and make this house feel more like a home, understood?”

Lisa’s eyes sparkled, and she immediately understood Ryan’s meaning. She carefully surveyed the entire hall, her small brow furrowed, already planning where to start.

Last was Amy. Ryan walked up to her and, as if performing a magic trick, produced a thick picture book and handed it to her.

“What is this?” Amy curiously took it.

“The Illustrated Guide to Common Kingdom Flowers.” Ryan pointed to the patch of land in the backyard, which was even more desolate than the front yard. “That garden will be your territory from now on. Look through this book, then tell me what kind of flowers you want to see blooming there.”

Amy flipped open the pages and was immediately captivated by the colorful, beautiful flowers illustrated inside. A look of pleasant surprise and longing appeared on her small face.

Just like that, every child except Treya had their own “job.”

Pippin’s footsteps, which had started off light, gradually became heavy. Tom’s “huffs” as he moved stones grew more strained with each one. From the kitchen came the “clatter” of Sam knocking things over and his frustrated, low groans. Lisa had already found a rag and a bucket and had begun methodically wiping down the long table. Amy sat on the threshold, clutching the large book, absorbed in reading it page by page.

The entire mansion, like a giant machine that had been stopped for a long time, was wound up again today, restarting in a way full of vitality.

Only Treya was left behind.

She stood in the center of the hall, like a lonely statue.

Her perception allowed her to “see” everyone’s busyness. She could feel Pippin’s heartbeat accelerating, sweat soaking his forehead. She could feel the soreness and trembling of Tom’s arm muscles. She could feel Sam’s frustration and resentment. She could feel Lisa’s focus and Amy’s joy.

Everyone was using their own efforts to prove the “value” Ryan had spoken of.

Everyone was struggling for that mouthful of rice, that single bed.

Except her.

Why?

Was it because she had signed that damned contract with him? So she was already his property, no longer needing to exchange labor for the right to survive?

This thought sent a chill through Treya.

She would rather move stones like Tom, moving them until her hands bled, than be like this now, like a “treasure” locked in a cabinet, idly waiting for the day she would be appraised and traded.

That feeling of being treated as an “object” was more unbearable to her than hunger and cold.

Time passed by little by little.

The sun rose in the east and slowly set in the west.

Pippin had already collapsed on the ground, and Tom was lying not far from him. Both were covered in foul-smelling sweat, lacking even the strength to lift a single finger.

Sam’s skill was very deft. He did not let everyone down. After only a few failures, he mastered the knack and produced bread dough that looked quite good.

The hall had been wiped clean by Lisa, and although there were still many corners that hadn’t been cleaned properly, at least it no longer looked so dilapidated.

At the same time, Ryan’s figure appeared in the hall.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” he announced. “Go wash up, then get ready for dinner.”

The children, as if granted a great pardon, dragged their exhausted bodies one by one, supporting each other as they walked toward the washroom.

Purely in terms of the level of exhaustion, it was not much different from other orphanages that exploited child labor, but their eyes were shining brightly. Perhaps this was the difference between suffering exploitation and working hard at one’s own talent.

Their eyes were shining brightly as they discussed today’s gains with each other.

Soon, only Ryan and Treya were left in the hall.

The dim twilight filtered in through the window, casting the shadows of the two onto the floor.

Treya’s lips moved. She clenched her fists, her emotions erupting uncontrollably.

“Mr. Ryan…”

“Why am I the only one who doesn’t have to do anything?”

Her tone was filled with unease, as frightened as a stray little animal, as if she had been isolated, and if she didn’t do something, her companions would gradually drift away from her.