Chapter 5

“Hee—”

[It’s a pity, but there’s nothing we can do. Your body can’t take any more.]

I rubbed my forehead and made a small whimper. The Administrator seemed to mistake that sound for sadness.

[Goodness. Even though you’re my contractor, you really do like me a lot.]

Not at all… I thought, but kept my mouth shut for now.

‘Better to let them think that,’ I decided.

[Well then, go on your way.]

“Yes?”

[It’s time to wake up.]

Pop!

The instant those words fell, my eyes opened in the real world.

“…….”

They said it was time to wake up, but—

‘It’s still night.’

At least the moon was bright, so I wasn’t scared.

I looked around and saw Eun-a teacher sleeping in an armchair.

When I touched my forehead I felt a cooling sheet—she must’ve dozed off while nursing me.

‘I don’t hurt anymore,’ I thought.

Right then—

[system] The Administrator of the World Law informs you that it’s natural for the fever from awakening to subside.

‘Oh, that makes sense.’

I asked silently, curious.

‘Why don’t you speak directly to me?’

[system] The Administrator clicks their tongue and says it’s because your capacity is embarrassingly tiny.

[system] You must grow — increase the size of the power you can handle — so I can do more things for you. That, too, is part of our contract.

Ah, I see.

‘Growth,’ I thought.

Not just getting taller, but growing my stats, probably.

How exactly to do that I still didn’t know, but since it was part of the contract I figured I should work at it.

[system] The Administrator praises you for having a decent attitude.

[system] Correction: not really praise—just noting it.

At that moment—

Gurgle.

Had I been thinking too hard? Or had I barely eaten while asleep all day?

‘I’m hungry.’

An intense hunger clenched my stomach.

‘What should I do?’

There was obviously no food nearby.

‘Teacher…’

I glanced at Eun-a. She was asleep so deep she wouldn’t notice anyone carrying her off.

‘I shouldn’t wake her.’

But my stomach kept growling.

‘I’m hungry.’

My mood sank fast. When the instinct took over, my thinking regressed.

‘I’m going to cry.’

Suppressing the urge to sob took superhuman willpower. I forced myself to think.

‘Food… kitchen!’

Right—there must be something in the kitchen.

I carefully rolled off the bed this time without falling and felt triumphant.

‘Nice!’

I stood on my tiptoes, grabbed the doorknob, and the door clicked open.

“Phew.”

Eun-a was still fast asleep.

I crept into the corridor.

‘Kitchen, kitchen…’

But the house was huge. No matter how I wandered, I couldn’t find it.

“Heh, this is hard.”

Then, tired and wandering, my eyes landed on something on the console.

A biscuit wrapper—someone must’ve left it after snacking.

“I’ll eat it!”

I ran to the console as fast as I could.

With a stretch, my fingertips touched the bag.

“Huh?”

It had no weight.

‘What the—’

It was empty.

My disappointment matched how hungry I was.

I fiddled with the empty wrapper, but no snack magically appeared.

‘I’ll go back to the room.’

I felt bad, but I decided I had to wake the teacher—just this once.

I mustered my strength and kept going.

But—

‘I can’t find the room no matter where I go!’

In the middle of the long corridor I was stunned.

The crinkling wrapper in my hand sounded ridiculous.

‘I think I’m lost.’

‘What now?’

The house was too big, I was too tiny, and no one was passing by.

I didn’t want to just wait here until someone found me.

“……Hee.”

Tears stung. My lips puckered and my chin tightened.

Then something tapped my back.

Thunk.

I spun around. Two yellow eyes shone at me.

Pointed ears, a long snout, huge forepaws.

My mouth dropped open.

“Mum–ma?”

My tears vanished.

“How is there a dog here?”

The enormous dog didn’t bark—just stared at me quietly.

‘It won’t bite,’ I thought.

Cautiously, I reached for it.

Thump!

“I like Mumm—” I hugged the dog’s neck with all my arms.

The dog, apparently not thrilled, slipped free of my grasp.

“Ouch.”

I fell back onto my butt as the dog wriggled out.

“Mumma…?”

Rrrrr!

The dog shook itself, then its shape changed.

“Ah—!”

It transformed into a tall person standing with the moon behind them.

“Haa…”

I swallowed. The face was familiar.

“Ah… Mister Ajo?”

“You.”

Even as a person, Hwan’s eyes glinted in the dark.

“Why are you here?”

“……”

“Not answering?”

Normally I’d cower at that sharp interrogation, but nothing mattered now.

‘He’s a person!’

I dashed over and clung to Hwan’s leg.

“What, what—!”

A great cry erupted from me—hungry, lost, and overwhelmed.

I clutched his leg like a lifeline and sobbed.

“Haa…”

Hwan sighed.

“Let go a bit.”

“Waaah—”

I shook my head, my pants soaked from crying.

Just then—

“!”

Hwan slipped his arms under my armpits and lifted me up. He looked at me with a sour expression.

My short arms reached out.

“Hug me….”

“What?”

“Pleease—”

Sobbing, I begged. Hwan, who’d been staring in disbelief, lifted me without thinking.

“Ahem.”

I buried my tear-streaked face in his chest and felt relief wash over me. Sleep crawled in.

The child soon fell asleep.

Hwan stared down at the little one breathing softly in his arms.

The weight was negligible, barely enough to register as weight.

So light I couldn’t find a comfortable way to hold them. The child was warm and soft.

Hwan frowned.

‘Are babies really this small and fragile?’

He’d never been around infants. He recalled only bits of roaming the mountains before half a year old.

‘Anyway.’

He couldn’t keep the child here. He didn’t know which guest room they belonged in.

So he took the child to the living room.

A dim lamp glowed there.

“How did you end up holding a child, Hwan?” Shin-jae looked over from the sofa. Hwan answered simply.

“I found them.”

“What?”

Shin-jae seemed to want an explanation, but Hwan didn’t give one. He was too unsure whether to sit while holding the child.

Shin-jae swallowed and reached out.

“Give them here. You look uncomfortable holding them.”

“……”

“Hwan?”

Hwan hesitated at Shin-jae’s hand.

“They asked to be held,” Hwan said.

“And? You’re going to keep holding them?”

“There’s something more important.”

Hwan diverted the conversation. Shin-jae raised an eyebrow.

“That healer earlier.”

“Jang Dae-won.”

“Yeah. That bastard.”

Hwan frowned slightly. From childhood he’d been taught to protect the weak; that was why he’d snapped the healer’s arm when the healer tried to hit A-yun.

It was the right thing to do—stop wrong actions.

But infants were far tinier than he’d expected. Anyone who tried to hit one deserved death in Hwan’s mind.

“I was thinking about him already,” Shin-jae said. “Long-term, he’s not useful. If a replacement shows up, we can cut him loose.”

“But we sent him off alive, so he might blab about our family.”

“He won’t. I tampered with his memories.”

Shin-jae stretched. “One fewer person who knows our secret, then.”

“Nope.”

“?”

“We didn’t reduce the number.”

Hwan answered confidently. The alert Shin-jae thought for a moment and said, “No way… you!”

“Yes.”

Hwan nodded.

“You got caught.”