Chapter 8
Roh

"Are we going to recruit kids to train assassins too?" Kirovah asked, wearing a top hat, tie, and white suit. Beside him was Xienorra in her pineapple-weaved goldish white dress, clinging to his arms like husband and wife.

"Just investigating."

A high rusty gate widely opened by the nuns. An old bald man in his black priest dress neared them and clasped his hands at chest level.

"What kind of kids would you like to adopt?"

"The one who's not afraid of blood," He said, and Xienorra nudged him.

"My husband means the one who has the potential to be a doctor," she chuckled in her sweet loving voice and cast a warm comfortable smile.

"Come and follow me," the priest said, leading their way.

"Behave!" she whispered in her mad voice.

"My heart nearly fluttered when you addressed me as your husband in your angelic voice. Gladly you reminded me that you're a demon to be my wife. By the way, how many children you wanted me to give to you?"

"I rather die if it came from you."

"And if it came from Efran?"

"Stop the nonsense and focus on our mission."

"Boring mission."

Mapple leaves rained on their way on the stony roads. Vines and bushes embraced the giant brick walls filled with human-sized mosaic windows, the balcony hallways that served as awnings, and a white facade welcomed their shoes.

Roh gulped for a second and wiped his sweating forehead with his white gloves. The beat in his chest fastened as the mansion-like door pulled open, and the kids were gathered around them, greeted them with ear-reaching smiles.

"Children, welcome our visitors, Mister and Misis Veltron."

"Good afternoon, Mister and Miss Veltron!"

Roh's knees trembled, ready to collapse at any minute as he continued wiping his sweat. Xienorra was wrapping to him, so it was easy for her to notice. She might not know the reason, but she needed to cover him.

"You're too excited, honey. We still have a lot of orphanages to visit."

Roh made an awkward laugh. "Haha, you're right." Then he looked around each of the happy faces of the children. Some eyes were sore, some faces had bruises, and some had bondage on their arms. It reminded him of something like this before, and he knew the stories behind the smiles.

"We're not in a hurry, though. I would like a tour while my husband is deciding, Father."

The priest and Xienora walked apart. He, the children, and the nuns were left.

Roh looked at the old lady in white coif and veil. "I almost pee out of excitement. Where's the bathroom here?"

"This way, mister."

Roh pushed his back to the walls with sweat over his tanned body. He was simultaneously wiping his face and chest. Then the forgotten memories were trying to sink into his mind.

He rapidly tapped his head with his wrist. "Where's your ball, Roh? Come on! This isn't the same orphan you've been! Don't be a crybaby!"

Don't be a crybaby, Kiary, he remembered telling his five-year-old sister while he was eleven, walking on the orphan hallway to the messing hall.

"Name's Kiara, not Kiary!"

"It's just a name, silly. As long as you respond, I will call you that way."

"You're really–ugh! Brother!"

They sat on the chairs together, and only one plate was on their table.

"Are you blind, mister?" Roh asked the chef distributing plates in his tray to the long tables.

"Watch your mouth, kids. We're in a food shortage here. You are overpopulated, and this is hopeless. 'Cause who in their right mind would like to adopt kids who don't share the same blood? Only the churches benefit from the donations and government support, not you, not even us, servers. I wish you didn't come yesterday."

Kiara looked at him with worried blue eyes and pale skin, but Roh responded with a smirk. He neared his lips to her ears, "I snatched some bread while everyone was asleep, and I'm still full."

"Wha–"

"This is all yours. Don't mind me," he said, sliding the plate in Kiara's front.

Kiara smiled warmly, the only scenery that could lighten his heart since their mother died waiting for their father. Kiara was about to swallow her spoon when he heard his stomach growling.

"Looks like I've eaten too much, and I need to poop!" he said with a sour look, clenching his very empty stomach. Kiara giggled and came back to eating. The next thing he remembered, he was beaten by the priests into a pulp every day for covering Kiara's cries that annoyed the hallway. He was always sent into the old stock room, cold, beside the stiff smelly bodies of his age.

He shook his head and washed his face on the sink. He gazed at the small rusty framed bathroom mirror and saw himself: tanned face, silver eyes, and grey hair.

"Don't be a crybaby, Roh. You're on an awesome boring mission with an invisible untrusted client," he comforted himself, breathing and sighing deeply. He wore his smile together with his courage and went outside the bathroom.

He returned to the open lobby with a garden and fountain in the middle. The kids were trying their best to smile and crowd like robots, won't move without an order. Creepy, yet, makes his heart melt. He wished they were really here for adoption. If he could just adopt every single kid in this orphan.

Back to their business, he started to tease the kids first for a bit. He asked for their names and gave them cute nicknames with y's in the end. Fayey, Marky, Zealy, Freddy, Carty, and Lovely–he hated this one because the name already had Ly in the end. So he ordered them to fall in line and separated those names that already had Ly in the end. Then he would try to glance at the nun watching him or the kids to force them to behave and not give shame to the visitor, to convince him to adopt some to lessen their annoying population.

Roh told them a moral story about friendship in a comedic version–the moments they put worms to the apple stand for having an unfairly high price, peeking in a woman's hot spring but peeked at impostors instead, and every silly thing they did when he was in university with pals–a scented version of his story in the streets as stray children after he escaped the orphanage.

He boasted that true friends sent each other letters and asked the children if their orphan-graduate friends did the same. And bingo! The longing answers started to come smoothly. It's been five years since the last time someone got adopted. The name was Jared Vilskel that was now in the name of the Diensforth Family. That man was the only one who came here almost quarterly, finding Razuha kids but stopped only recently since he consistently failed to see one.

"Why would he want Razuha kids only, mister? It's unfair. We are kids too."

Roh tried to give them a comforting smile as he stood up from crouching and wore out his hat. "I don't get him either. But if I find him, I'll ask him for you," he said and winked as Xienorra came with the priest. Time's up.

Kirovah Ichor
The Rogue Knight

MVCabusas | The Invisible King