After arriving at his little lodging, Nicolas was still replaying the day's events in his mind. He pictured the boy's face—every detail, even every expression.
Then flashes of Ilona came surging back. Truly, every feature of their faces was exactly the same. How could they look so much alike despite being separated by continents? They were identical! ................
From that day on, Nicolas still couldn't get Anneliese out of his mind. The beauty of Ilona's eyes and the suffering of her childhood blended perfectly in the little girl's eyes. Especially when, before her caretaker took her inside, the child turned to look at him. She cast him a look as if pleading for protection. But Nicolas took it as a sign that she wanted to meet again.
A week later, he returned to the orphanage. But he received an unexpected answer.
“She isn't here. The children from the orphanage make regular visits to the central foundation,” said a gardener near the orphanage.
“When will she be back?” Nicolas asked again.
“They usually return at night.”
“That long?” Nicolas exclaimed.
“Yes, sir. It's very far away.”
Nicolas fell silent. He studied the orphanage employee's face. There was something secretive in it. But he didn't want to jump to conclusions. This was a foreign country to him. He had no business forming such far-reaching suspicions. Even though he could now speak English like a native Englishman, he still couldn't reach certain sides of the world he currently lived in.
Disappointed, he walked out of the orphanage. For some reason, he felt weak because he couldn't see the little girl. He didn't understand what kind of feeling had taken hold of him.
In his entire life, he had only ever met two types of women. The first was a woman in the form of his mother. The second was a young girl in the form of Ilona Magritte. He had never encountered a tiny little figure like Anneliese, the little pickpocket. Let alone meeting him, every small child ran away the moment they saw his face from a distance.
The young man refused to give up. He tried visiting the orphanage twice more, but the answer he received was always the same. The children had already returned, but visitors were still not allowed to see them. They could only be visited on weekends.
Little by little, Nicolas began to feel that something was wrong. But he didn't know what it was or what he should do. All the way down the street, he kept thinking about it without pause.
“Sir, the child you're looking for isn't there, is she?”
Nicolas stopped walking. He turned around. A man in a hat now stood not far from him.
“What makes you think that?” Nicolas asked in return.
The newspaper vendor only gave him a crooked smile. “I saw you walk her home that night. You won't find her there, no matter how long you look. They're taken away every day.”
Nicolas furrowed his brow. The man's last words struck him as strange.
“Taken away? Where?”
“To the factory, of course.”
“The factory? Why are those children taken to a factory?”
“Ah, sir. That's perfectly normal here. Or are you not from around here? Hmm...” He stroked his chin.
“An immigrant?”
Nicolas ignored the last remark. He was more curious about Anneliese—little Ilona.
“Why are they taken to the factory?”
“What else would they do there if not work?”
Nicolas caught his breath. He still remembered that day—the day he met Anneliese. Her body had felt so light in his arms. Her fingers were tiny and delicate, and even her skin was so soft and thin. He couldn't imagine Anneliese standing beside gigantic machines.
“A factory? A child that small... working in a factory?!”