Chapter 150: Chapter 150: Bonds of Solitude
Golden Week volunteer activities have ended.
Everyone will return to the academy tomorrow morning.
On their last night at the orphanage, student volunteers gathered in the Great Hall to hear a speech from Guilty, the orphanage's director.
Like an old stage actor known for his eloquence, Guilty addressed his audience.
"That's why our parents are working so hard in times like this... But unlike you, the children in this orphanage don't have parents. And you are an example to all. Be the protector of these children, and these children will never forget the grace you have shown them in these 10 days and your heart. Inside, you are no different than the parents who gave birth to these children.
Tongue. It is only truly effective when applied to the devil's lips.
The devil's tongue was truly the devil's tongue, and the eyes of many students in the auditorium were filled with tears.
Guilty's speech reminded the student volunteers of their parents' grace and made them feel a strong sense of compassion for the children in the orphanage, even if only temporarily.
It's not even interesting.''
Except for Vikil.
In fact, Vikir knew that Guilty's speech was just a subtle allusion to the feelings of respect and obligation that Academy students naturally have toward their parents.
The proof was the huge donation box that appeared right after Guilty's speech.
"Then show the children in our nursery the love you've felt these past ten days. Give it to the children here.
In the words of Guilty, the students quickly open their wallets.The sound of gold coins clinking.
The more the students of the academy respect and love their parents, the more the coins start piling up.
... Of course, Vikir had no respect for or love for Hugo, so he didn't pay a penny.
He also had no intention of donating anything to the devil.
Well then.
Someone spoke to Vikir.
It was Sinclair.
She tugged on Vikir's collar and said,
``You haven't paid?''
``Why don't you have money?'' A membership fee is required.
Sinclair looked a little angry and poked Vikir in the side.
"Don't you think it's too strict? The poor children here have no parents, so we should help them.
That was the general reaction of the student volunteers."
Vikir All except. So Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and even Bianca all sobbed and threw all their money into the donation box.
But Vikir shook his head resolutely.
``We don't need parents.''
``Oh?''
Sinclair widened his eyes in disbelief.
Vikir added to his brief.
"Anyway, you have to travel the world alone. Parents only work if they are essential in childhood; otherwise, they are unnecessary." I never thought that children were pathetic and poor.
Born and raised as a hunting dog in Baskerville, he never believed that children in orphanages needed parents to help them through their childhood.
The world is full of pain and must be fought through, and parents are just the first guides to help you through this long struggle.
This is not an emotional view, but a functional view; it's an upbringing, like Baskerville, where Vikir spent his whole life, and the era of destruction, where he spent half his life.
And of course, this perspective is somewhat unusual for the average modern person who did not live through the Age of Apocalypse.
It is said that those who have experienced war and those who have not cannot understand each other even in death.
Sinclair's eyes moved slightly as he stared at Vikiel.
From a curious and playful expression to a sad and sad one.
"Hello..."
Sinclair finally spoke up.
``Please come to my house for vacation or something.''
``...?''
``You can eat with me.''
Sinclair stood on his tiptoes, stretched out his hand, and placed it above Vikiel. I put my hand on it.
"What are you doing?"
Vikir asked incredulously, and Sinclair withdrew his hand.
Her expression was really confused, and I could tell she didn't realize she was doing it.
``Hmm...that's it! I see the kids! Hyung! Really, let's eat something later!'' She backed away, waved, and disappeared into the crowd. ``What a strange girl.
Vikir frowned.
Memories of Sinclair before his regression flashed through her mind.
A girl who doesn't talk much but smiles a lot. She was a girl who was somewhat friendly to everyone, but she didn't feel connected to anyone. She is a super genius who has never missed the top spot in the written or practical exams during her four years at the academy. She is a mysterious person who disappeared after graduation and was never seen again.
She was said to be of middle-class descent, but strangely, nothing was known about her background or origins.
Vikir frowned.
``By the way, one of the sluts that Cindy Wendy sent me said, ``Among the 20 freshmen in this year's academy, there is a king...or rather, Sinclair's beauty.'' That talent and hidden strange background are not excluded.
Mean Guilty's voice gives back to her parents, who gave birth to her! '' At this moment, the spotlight shines on the other side of the stage.
There, kindergarten children are standing shyly in a line in formal attire.
Everyone is holding a roughly made wreath in their hand.
Guilty smiled broadly.
"Alright, kids, thank you for being my parents for ten days, okay?"
Guilty uses the kids as bait to collect more donations from the academy's inexperienced students. It's obvious that you are trying to eliminate them.
But the heart and connection between the children who made the wreaths and the volunteers who happily wore them around their necks were real.
The children were excited to share their handmade bouquets and leis with their older sisters and younger siblings, hoping they would like them, and the younger sisters were also overjoyed to receive the presents. Ta.
Her Tudor, Sancho, Piggy, and Bianca hugged her tightly.
"Oh! I'm a Tudor, I swear! I'll come to you every week until I become a great hero, and of course thereafter."
"In the North, children are the most important thing to us. The future of the empire depends on you. Good luck.''
``Oh, I'll come again! Next time, I'll bring lots of sweets!''
``Well...10 days. It's short, and if it's long, it's a long time. I got into big trouble."
The children wrapped garlands around the students' necks and kissed them on the cheeks.
But...
"..."
Surprisingly, the children did not approach Vikir any further. .
This was partly due to Vikil's blunt and cold attitude, but the main reason was that he had not been around the children for the past 10 days.
Cleaning sewers, repairing water pipes, tiling water bottles, maintaining playgrounds, etc. Vikhil always took on the dirty work behind the scenes, so his activities went unnoticed.
Is that the reason? Vikir's community service scores, ratings, and image were quite low.
Well then.
A small child came to Vikir's side.
It was Nymphet.
"...."
"...."
Nymphet stared at Vikir.
Vikir stared at Nymphet, too.
Unusually, Vikir broke the silence first.
"... What do you see?"
Nymphet, somewhat hesitantly, held out what he'd been hiding behind his back.
It was a small, crudely made wreath.
"Hmm. Thank you."
Vikir took the wreath from the nymphet's hand.
Normally he would have bent down to the child's eye level and let the child wrap a garland around his neck, but Vikir had no such consideration.
Then he grabbed Nymphet Vikir's hand.
She moved her tiny fingers and wrote on Vikir's palm.
'Thanks for the ball, oppa.'
For your work in the sewers.
Vikir nodded once.
"You're welcome."
Vikir was unimpressed; he'd only done it to save Madame Eight-Legged's eggs.
Unexpectedly, the Nymphet was willing to continue the conversation.
"Are you coming again?
For a moment, Vikir's students jumped.
Next time. Will there be a next time?
Dogs are always ready to die.
They may be killed by their prey or cooked by their masters.
So, like any other volunteer, it wasn't easy for Vikil to say the word "next."
And it wasn't uncommon for nymphets to be disappointed, too, especially given that volunteer visits were becoming increasingly rare.
After a moment's hesitation, Vikir finally nodded.
"As long as there is a tomorrow for you and me."
Those were the best Vikil could promise.
Nymphet opened his eyes for a moment.
Then Nymphet smiled bitterly and nodded.
"Wait."
The nymphet's damp fingers plant a promising message in Vikir's dry palm.
Then. It's kiss time.
All the other children kiss the other volunteers on the cheek.
But neither Nymphet nor Vikir stopped, and they especially did not try to bring their mouths and cheeks closer together.
Finally, Vikir turned his back on him.
``It's okay if you don't kiss me. I don't like that either.''
``...''
Nymphet was clearly nervous.
For some reason, the nymphet hesitates and plays with her hands.
Vikir says one last thing to Nymphet.
"...and. " It's not 'Grandpa.' It's 'Uncle.'"
It was a little unusual for her thirteen-year-old to hear her brother called Vikir.
Vikir left the audience on foot, leaving the nymph visibly disappointed.
"Now, wait!"
Vikiel would have done that if Saint Dolores hadn't gotten in his way.
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