Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Fifteen...
The sisters left the man named Tom waiting outside the door for nearly twenty minutes. Driven to the brink of frenzy by the delay, he had even gotten into a brief shouting match with a passerby on the street. Finally unable to contain his agitation, he pounded on the wooden door with far greater force.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
He slammed his fists against the wood with complete disregard for manners, clearly desperate—though what could possibly warrant such wild impatience remained to be seen.
"U-Uncle Tom? I'm so sorry, I was asleep," Anne said, rubbing her eyes as she pulled the door open, putting on the act of a child just roused from bed. Not that she thought he would question her explanation anyway.
After all, who would suspect an innocent child of playing mind games?
"Ah, don't worry about it," Tom said, forcing what he clearly thought was a warm, friendly smile, eager to convince the girl he meant no harm. "I'm not in that much of a rush... it's just about what your father set aside before... Ah, I shouldn't be bringing this up so soon. I share your deep sorrow over their passing, but I really, desperately need the grain your father didn't get to hand over. My own family is about to starve!"
Despite his friendly posture, his words failed to deceive the young girl. Deep within her eyes lay intense suspicion and disbelief; she wouldn't trust a single syllable tumbling from his mouth.
Yet now was not the time to provoke him. She needed information, and more importantly, she couldn't risk exposing her suspicions and causing him to bring armed thugs to her doorstep.
"Is that so? Father never mentioned anything like that to me..." Anne said, adopting a sweet, obedient tone. "Please, Uncle Tom, come inside! Leaving a guest out on the porch isn't how our family does things."
She acted remarkably gentle, showing no sign that she viewed him as a suspect.
Tom, however, seemed surprised by the setup inside. While Lucy's fear of a stranger was typical, the presence of another young girl in the house caught him off guard. He hadn't seen this guest during his previous visits.
"She's a friend who got separated from her family. I'm letting her stay with us for a bit," Anne explained with a soft smile.
Noticing Tom's blank, unfocused gaze, her suspicion deepened. There was definitely something wrong with him.
"Uh... oh... that's nice... I mean, how tragic. Separated from family so young," Tom offered a stiff, unnatural smile. He moved with the awkward jerky motions of a wooden puppet, giving off a hollow, uncanny vibe.
"But we don't have time to chat about that!" Tom's voice suddenly spiked with erratic excitement, a disturbing shift in tone that made the three girls step back in unison. "Where are the rations your father brought back for me? Where is the cargo... It's extremely important to me!"
The sisters worried he might snap on the spot. Combined, the two of them weren't nearly as physically strong as an adult man, leaving them with little leverage if he turned violent.
Fafnir, on the other hand, stood by silently, worrying only that she might accidentally knock the man into pieces if he tried anything—he looked far too fragile compared to a sea monster!
"Please calm down, Uncle Tom," Anne said cautiously, eyeing the unhinged man. "My parents left behind plenty of belongings, but they never mentioned anything about your arrangement. I really don't know where those items are."
"Those are MINE! My cargo! My—gah!"
Hearing her refusal, Tom instantly flew into a rage, lunging forward to take the goods by force.
His outburst ended before it truly began.
Fafnir's small fist darted out, striking him straight in the chest and sending him flying across the room with a heavy crash.
The room fell dead silent. Everyone stared in shock at the incredible sight.
Scrambling to his feet, Tom clutched his bruised chest and stared at the quiet, expressionless young girl, his mind reeling. Could the sisters' parents have foreseen their own demise and hired a powerful bodyguard to protect their children?
It would certainly explain how two helpless orphans had managed to live in this neighborhood without being driven out by local gangs.
"My apologies... I lost my head," Tom stammered out, backing down instantly as he bowed repeatedly in apology. "I was just so desperate for those supplies, child. You must understand, I already presold those goods to others. If I can't deliver, I'll face massive fines!"
He sounded thoroughly sincere. Had this been the old Anne, she might have believed every word.
"I still can't just trust you," Anne replied, her logic razor-sharp. "Lately, scavengers have been circling our house like vultures. Letting you inside was already a huge risk, and I only did so because you knew my father."
Tom found himself speechless, unable to counter the girl's reasonable caution. Seeing that simple words wouldn't work, he made a decision.
"Fine! I'll buy them from you again with hard currency!"
He reached into his coat and slapped a heavy stack of Iberian coins onto a nearby table. Before the crisis, such a sum could buy thousands of pounds of grain; even now, it represented a small fortune.
"I'm running out of time, and I can't afford to haggle. But I need to take those supplies today!"
Seeing the massive stack of coins, Anne knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man was directly involved in her parents' murder. Her cold demeanor vanished, replaced by a sudden, businesslike enthusiasm.
"Well, if you're paying cash, that's a different story!" she chirped. "Though we don't have many supplies left, and even this much money won't buy you a massive haul..."
"Good grief, kid... when did you become just as sharp and greedy as your parents?" Tom muttered, shaking his head. "You used to be such a sweet child, and now you're talking like a hardened merchant."
Despite his complaint, Tom no longer dared to look down on the girl. There was an intense, sharp edge behind her polite smile.
"We have to survive somehow," Anne replied, a bitter smile touching her lips. "They may be gone, but my sister and I still have to live. As the older sister, I have to think about our future—and protect this little one."
She gently patted Lucy's head. Those words came straight from her heart, and the raw truth in her voice completely put Tom's lingering doubts to rest. He readily agreed to follow her toward the cellar.
"Mr. Tom, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Anne said suddenly, turning to look him straight in the eye as they walked down the hallway.
"Ask away! Anything at all!" Tom said, his mood soaring now that the precious cargo was within reach. He waved his hand grandly. "Are you looking for business advice, or secrets on how to move goods in the city? Out of respect for your parents, I'll teach you everything I know!"
"You know my parents died in an accident," Anne said softly. "It happened so fast... I never even got a chance to process it."
"I know, I know... I was devastated when I heard the news," Tom said, his voice dripping with sympathy. "They always brought me those wonderful dried fish. I haven't met such generous people in years... Ah, are we here?"
Seeing the heavy basement door at the end of the hall, Tom's eyes gleamed with wild excitement.
"Yes, we're here. Let's go in," Anne said calmly, pushing open the heavy door and stepping down into the dark cellar first.
She turned back to face him, her eyes turning as cold and sharp as ice.
"There's just one last thing I need to know, Mr. Tom. Did my parents' deaths... and the monstrous things hidden down here... have anything to do with you?"
She stared at him, her gaze frozen in deadly seriousness.
He stared back at her, the frantic excitement fading from his eyes, replaced by a unsettling, hollow stillness.