𝙇𝙞𝙛𝙚✔︎ ᴋᴀᴇʙᴇᴅᴏ ғғ

❁❦︎ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ❦︎❁

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"B-but, Aunt promised me!"

My niece cries, tugging onto my shirt as she stomps her Mary Jane shoes, clit-clattering on the floor of wood. The woman who sat decently, gently placing her palms on neatly arranged paper work, looked at the young child crying with a solemn face on.

"I know, I know" I gulped, trying to un-embarass myself, by sternly swinging her hands back down but she stubbornly drags it back, causing me to Yelp and bend forward.

"S-so sorry, miss jean.." I managed to say, hoping she'd hear me in spite of my niece's crazy lamentation of wanting to meet her aunt. I patiently await for an answer as she clears her throat, as if it'll stop my niece from crying but she continues nonetheless.

Miss Jean, the owner of the most renowned orphanage in monstadt. She holds at least a thousand kids and teenagers all over the country, she was also awarded for having the best Forster care of children, not once but many, at least 10 times I heard she's won the same award every 3 to 5 months. She treats them like her own kids, which is nice of her but rumors said she's an evil woman that tricks kids with sweets and presents to keep them shut and behave like happy kids in front of the camera, it spread only because she doesn't smile except in front of cameras or photoshoots. I also heard that she kills people and kids to perform a ritual for money and popularity. I could easily tell it was a big fat lie , especially the ritual part, must probably be part to spoil her reputation.

I wasn't scared to face her until a day came where a child whom I met once at the park with his parents who died minutes after they left and was later sent to the orphanage. Another rumor was spread when the child went missing the week he was sent to the orphanage. There isn't a single trace of him for months.

I hadn't also noticed the beads of sweat trickling down my face.

"Well, I don't seem to understand why you want to put this kid under my foster care" She simply says.

"I-- uh.. It's sort of complicated m-ma'am..." I stammered, not having the guts to speak to a said murderer.

"What could be more complicated than bringing a child whose parents are still alive to the orphanage, or they're dead, aren't they?" With a stern and solemn voice she asks, I scratched my nape avoiding eye contact with her and nodded.

That's when I realized I nodded, I instantly shook my head, "No no, they're alive.. it's just that, they might not really bring her up like normal parents would" She quirks a brow, " Are you reporting a case of child molestation?"

"No--" She instantly cut me off, not allowing me to speak.

"Are they child traffickers?" She interrogates, holding her pen and writing it on a paper.

"I-- No, but miss--"

"Do they have an infectious disease that'll cause a negative impact on the child?"

"No, ma'am"

And what she says next got me thinking harder than solving an equation in maths.

"Do her parents know that you are here?"

"No.."

"Does she want to see her parents?"