The Original Purpose [Part 2]

Well, yesterday was just my luck. I even got a stupid injury and made these guys worry.

Not just the boy, Harold stroked all the gathered childrens heads roughly and said sorry repeatedly. Now that their bellies were full and Harolds wounds were okay, sleepiness washed over the children as their hearts felt at ease.

You guys, too, just stay here for tonight. Theres no good wandering around outside at this hour after all.

And just like that, the three siblings gradually fell asleep before they knew it when theyre still talking with the man. The three siblings, who slept without difficulties even without a soft bed and warm quilt, have very insensitive body nerves.

The next morning, Emma was the first one to wake up.

It just happened that Emmas face was where the morning sun directly shone on from the hole in the ceiling. She woke up because its too bright.

Umm Martha so bright hn?

Feeling strange that its not the feeling of her usual soft bed, Emma opened her eyes.

The sight of George and William sleeping huddled together reminded her of what happened the day before.

eh?

She couldnt find the mans figure.

Although he doesnt have any big wounds, it should have taken a little longer before he could move around.

Emma stretched lightly to move her stiff body and stood up, wondering where the man went.

Ouch!

Ah, sorry.

The children were sleeping in the middle, so Emma accidentally stepped on one of them.

What are you doin?

The boy who got stepped on looked at Emma while rubbing his eyes.

I was just thinking that Harold-san is not here, huh.

Brother? Ah, he probably went painting nearby, no?

Paint? Paint what? Eh, heyy?

The boy went back to sleep again as if he was sucked into dreamland, leaving Emma no choice but to leave the room by herself to check where the man is.

The light was shining through from the entrance of the next room. Its many times brighter than the room Emma was in before.

Emma squinted her eyes from the dazzling light and peeked into the room.

Uwa

The next rooms front wall has entirely collapsed. It is supposed to be blindingly bright.

The blue sky spread out in front of her eyes.

Oh? Did I wake you up?

Harold noticed Emma and turned his face facing her.

Eh? Whats this? Its amazing!

The wall behind Harold was entirely painted in bright colors.

The realistic and subtle touches on the painting that could make one feel as if ones in a botanical garden werent something she could possibly think of as a work of an amateur.

Fufufu, its good, right?

The man proudly showed Emma the wall hes using as a canvas.

Yes. Its like the real thing! You can draw the perspective accurately, and the casting of shadows in the paintings doesnt feel off Above all, the colors are splendid. No matter what paint you use, its hard to produce such bright colors, isnt it?

Hm?? Oh, ooh.

The man looked at Emma blankly.

He was surprised at her unexpected professional compliment.

Hue told him that they were children from another slum, but as long as he remembered their conversation from last night, he felt they were well educated and could think and decide for themselves like an adult.

You, what are you?

Harold stared at Emma with suspicion.

Fufufu, Emma stared back at the man, looking satisfied.

It was just as I had thought.

Hue called him Big Brother, but in fact, the boy and Harolds age difference seems farther than that of siblings or that of parent-child.

Only Emma, with the spider on her head, was secretly aware.

Perhaps even without the spider, she would notice it with her own innate abilities.

Although he is all skin and bones, he has intelligent-looking orange pupils and unkempt hair with a darker shade of orange. She could tell now that he stands up that he has a tall height.

He is quite a handsome uncle.

(T/N: Emma used the same word she used to describe the King: ikeoji or ikemen oji-san. It actually means cool old man or handsome old man, but I think Harold isnt that old to be called old man, so I used the word uncle on him.)

If the King is a wild, muscular-type cool old man, then the man in front of me is an intelligent subculture-type handsome uncle? The withered feeling he gives off is also good in its own way.

Hey, hey, show me what youre painting.

The colorful paintings were painted with the same type of ink as the red ink spilled on the front of Joshuas store. They were about to reach their purpose unknowingly, but before that was Emma, who, rather than that, was more eager to see the figure of a handsome uncle painting seriously.