There are people who are particularly good at taking care of children.
For instance, there are those in kindergarten who receive a lot of love from the kids, possessing the talent to quickly turn the crying faces of children into smiles.
Sadly, I wasn’t endowed with such talent.
Regardless of how much I like kids, they didn’t seem to feel any special fondness for me.
Instead of hugging them, they’d just cry when they saw my face.
Thanks to this, in my previous life, I always had to watch the kids from a distance.
Even now, I still have no idea how to soothe them.
_Waaahhhhh!_
So, when a kid I just scolded refuses to stop crying, I’m utterly lost on how to comfort them.
“….”
Feeling a headache coming on, I unconsciously wrap one hand around my head.
Of course. Why would I have scolded the child if hearing their cries made me happy?
Unless you have serious mental issues, most people would feel a heavy sense of guilt hearing a child weep.
But there was no choice.
When it comes to correcting a little rascal who throws things at people, I couldn’t think of a faster or more effective punishment method.
I’m not exactly a child counseling expert fresh out of a psychiatry program.
“_Waaahh! You don’t play with me, you just hit me! I hate you!_”
The sorrowful wailing only grows louder.
Sure, I did feel a bit guilty for hitting the bum of a kid I just met until it turned red.
But it felt somewhat infuriating that they only mention their wrongs and then throw tantrums.
Well, that’s just how kids are.
No matter how serious the mistake, the moment they’re scolded, they act like they’ve all promised to be all whiny.
They believe whole-heartedly that Santa Claus will bring them gifts on Christmas, yet they don’t leave even a note of thanks—not even a drop of juice by their socks! That’s just how kids are.
They inherently think the world revolves around them.
“…Revi. Let me tell you this upfront: throwing things at people is a bad thing.”
However, no matter how you slice it, launching all sorts of items at people is over the line.
No, I’m just glad I took the hit. If it had been someone else, they would’ve definitely been in serious trouble.
I’ve heard kids today are becoming more violent. Is that why?
Has it come to a point where children play at the park, hurling rebar mixed in cement instead of regular sand?
Have humans finally achieved some leap into a new era while I was away from my hometown?
“_I don’t knowoo!_ Adults always do this to meee—!”
The child still has no intention of stopping the crying.
Well, I can sort of understand why the kid’s personality might be skewed.
With machines lying around and a puzzling animosity towards adults, looking at the old, lab-like scene around, it’s easy to infer something terrible must’ve happened to this kid in the past.
It’s likely they were part of some horrible experiment.
Child abuse probably occurred as an unfortunate side effect.
I may not know what the experiment was for or whether it succeeded, but it’s obvious that whatever happened then twisted this child’s character and values.
“_Sniff._*
Finally, the child starts to quiet down, wiping away tears.
Although they look like a little kid now, to be honest, they’re extremely dangerous.
After all, they carry significant animosity against adults.
They even pulled that stunt on me, so who knows what happened to other unfortunate souls that met this kid?
Surely, the same would apply to anyone else who may cross paths with them in the future.
They’re essentially a threat to others, indistinguishable from a monster at this point.
So what should I do moving forward?
Should I shout some cliché line like, “Sorry, but you gotta die!” and make it as painless as possible?
Well, that wouldn’t be all that bad.
Especially for someone like me with no talent for comforting kids, it might even be the more merciful option.
“Revi, not all adults are bad.”
However, for some reason, I didn’t want to choose that option.
Not just because I didn’t dislike kids, but because I genuinely thought that path was the more humane choice.
As they say, having power makes everything easier.
Nothing feels off-limits, and you wouldn’t have to care about social ties or hierarchy.
But, would I really be able to say I reached that conclusion myself?
Could the past me reconcile with the current me, who would mindlessly take the life of a monster of a child, twisted by abuse?
“Bu-b-but, all the adults I’ve seen were bad…”
Of course I didn’t know if this choice was truly the right one, nor did I have any confidence in my ability to convince this child.
As I mentioned before, my skill with children is practically nil.
But I also couldn’t just leave the child to their own devices.
So I rummaged through my head to find the memories I needed to persuade her.
Finally, I managed to recall some phrases and behaviors from a child counseling expert I’d seen in the past.
Oh, childhood counseling expert, lend me your strength…
“It’s because you were held by bad adults.”
“Held…?”
“Yup. Adults tormenting kids is a very bad thing. So when other adults see it, those bad ones will get severely scolded.”
The child looks at me with teary eyes, as if my words are sinking in.
Honestly, I wasn’t lying.
Child abuse is plainly a crime and the societal awareness around it is close to rock bottom.
In some countries, if you get locked up for child-related crimes, you’re likely to get jumped by fellow inmates.
Erasing the child’s hostility is paramount. It’s crucial they realize being treated poorly by an adult isn’t the norm.
“Bad adults are scared of being found out, so they hide kids like you away from other adults.”
“There are good adults in the world…?”
“Of course! But if you throw things at just anyone like earlier, even the good ones won’t want to come near you. If that happens, eventually there will be no one left around you.”
Plus, I had to stop this kid from recklessly tossing things around.
I’ll say it again; I’m just glad it was me who got hit. Had it been a regular person, a flying desk could’ve meant life-threatening danger.
If a kid with poor emotional regulation possesses immense strength, and no attempt is made to teach them control…
It’s only a matter of time before things escalate into an accident.
“Revi, do you want to be a kid like that?”
Upon hearing that, the child shook her head vigorously. It was a clear no.
However, something seemed off as the kid, who had been shaking her head, suddenly wore a realization on her face.
Then, she fell back into a sob, her head hanging low.
“…But it’s too late for me now.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t leave here anymore… When I see other people, I just run away.”
The child replied in a defeated tone.
Can’t leave? What, are you some kind of spirit or something?
To be honest, I’ve never really dealt with ghosts, so I’m unsure what to do.
“Well then, let’s do this.”
If I knew how to free a spirit or something, that’d be handy.
Coincidentally, I had very little knowledge of ghosts.
Besides, I couldn’t afford to waste any more time here.
I opted for a makeshift solution rather than a fundamental fix.
“As I said before, I don’t have time to stay. I have things to do and people to find.”
The child frowned, sensing the impending separation.
It hurt my heart, but it couldn’t be helped. I hadn’t come here to play, and I certainly wasn’t that idle.
“But if you don’t harm anyone here and wait patiently… I will definitely return.”
However, after this is done, it’s a different story.
I wouldn’t send someone to a place about to be hit by a nuclear bomb without a way out.
If I ask Oliver, he’d probably help me out.
“…Really?”
“Yeah, for real. I promise.”
The child looked unsure but still held a glimmer of hope.
To convey my promise, I extended my pinky finger, a gesture often used.
However, the child seemed puzzled, simply staring at my finger, not grasping its meaning.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a promise. Normally, when adults and kids make a promise, they link pinkies.”
“But you look like a kid too!”
“Well, it might look that way, but I’m an adult.”
I explained to the child about crossing pinkies and its meaning.
Then, looking at my finger, the child’s face changed.
She stopped sniffling and began to show the faintest hint of a smile.
“_Hehe, what is that! Are you trying to make me laugh?_”
The child laughs.
Seeing her laugh is way better than crying, but I can’t help but question why she found it so amusing.
What’s so funny about me being an adult?
“…Why?”
“Because you seem like a kid no matter how I look at you! I at least know how adults are supposed to look.”
“Don’t judge people solely based on appearance.”
“Your actions don’t really scream adult either.”
This little rascal.
What the? Is she subtly roasting me?
What is this? I can’t even retort back! Where did she learn that cheeky tone?
…No, I’ll endure it.
What would a child who’s lived all their life in this dark underground know about adulthood?
It’s the mark of an adult’s composure to brush off even a child’s thoughtless remarks. Absolutely!
“…Alright!”
After the child’s giggles subsided, the phosphorescent shadows surrounding her vanished.
With just a hint of moisture around her eyes, her demeanor was cheerful once again.
“I don’t know if such adults exist, but I’ll trust you since you said it!”
The child wraps her tiny pinky around mine.
Her little, soft pinky feels strangely like it doesn’t want to part from this place.
“So… you have to return. It’s a must, okay?”
But even so, the child withdrew her pinky from mine.
This must’ve been hard for her to decide.
Then I must also strive not to betray her expectations.
“Yeah, it’s a promise.”
“Okay, promise!”
The child echoed my words back with a bright voice.
In that deep, dark underground.
The spine-chilling cries that echoed from the hallway ceased to be heard.
“Oh, by the way…”
Suddenly, something zipped past my head at high speed.
Now that I think about it, isn’t this kid a ghost? She walked through walls and all.
Even if she’s not a ghost, maybe something similar?
If that’s the case, perhaps she could finally resolve those long-standing questions I’ve had?
“Hey? Why?”
Seeing my reaction, the child looked at my face, her gaze innocent.
She appeared utterly clueless, as if lacking any knowledge.
However, I couldn’t suppress the question that had been lodged in my brain all this time.
“Revi, do you know what ‘geometric coordinates’ are?”
Once, this question had caused similar reactions whenever ghostly tales were told, yet it never had an answer.
I tossed the question at the child.
“…?”
The child blinked at me, her gaze vacant.
Did she know anything?
She repeated my words silently, a puzzled expression washing over her, then tilted her head slightly.
“Geometric coordinates…? What’s that…?”
It was clear she had zero clue what I was talking about, still wearing that blissfully innocent look.
“…Never mind. Forget it.”
The path to solving my curiosity still seemed to stretch far into the distance…
