From that moment on, Nicolas had a new preoccupation. Every morning, he went to Anneliese’s orphanage. At first, he arrived at six in the morning, but the orphanage was already empty. All the children had been taken away at five, even before the sun had fully awakened.
On another day, he visited the orphanage as evening approached, watching the children return together, carrying the stinging exhaustion of the day. With the skills of an infiltrator trained from a young age, he crept around in search of the ideal place to spy. He circled the little house, studying every corner, and managed to find an old, hidden ventilation opening no one could see.
Through that gap, Nicolas observed the children’s daily lives after each day of work at the factory. Little Anneliese looked thinner and tinier by the day. At night, she received nothing but a bowl of watery porridge and a glass of plain water. In resignation, she ate the porridge without a sound, doing her best not to let a single drop spill. Every so often, she glanced at the caretaker standing in the doorway like a foreman. But whenever the caretaker turned toward her, the little girl quickly lowered her head and went back to eating her porridge with trembling hands.
After the meal, two or three children were always assigned to take turns washing the bowls and glasses. The rest were forced to go straight to sleep on mats and thin mattresses. No one cared whether they were in pain or starving. When the order came, the little girl could only lie facing the wall. Her tiny lips continued to whimper softly as she clutched her stomach. Sometimes her legs thrashed on the thin mattress, as though she were trying to endure unbearable pain.
Nicolas did not understand how he had become connected to the miserable fate of a little child. With each passing day, Anneliese affected him more deeply. What was happening to the little girl struck Nicolas with devastating force, piercing the most sensitive place within him.
Little Ilona was frightened now. She was hungry. What could I do for her?
For days afterward, he grew increasingly restless. He remembered Ilona’s suffering in prison. Her expression, her sobs, her voice—all of it felt unbearably painful. He had never imagined that it would be his last chance to see Ilona’s face before the bridge incident. He had not even had the chance to see her body, visit her grave, let alone scatter flowers over it.
Then, after that completely failed rescue attempt, did he have a chance to save this little girl? What could he possibly do? What did he have now?
Nicolas knew he had no choice but to act. Little Anneliese was suffering because of him. She was still far too young to feel the bitterness of life. She should have been given protection, affection, and a sense of safety. But there was nothing there she could hope for. Would she have to live as a slave until she grew up? Would she remain trapped by ignorance and poverty without ever knowing the way out?
“Think. Think!”
The young man kept pacing around his room. He tousled his hair, pounded the wall, and sometimes pressed a hand against his own heart. Tides of fear and hope surged within him now—the fear of all his past failures, the pain, and the tiny spark of hope waiting before him.
In that desperate situation, he finally found the courage to make an important decision. A great beginning that would change his life.
He had to take Anneliese away as quickly as possible.
Should he take Anneliese away? How? Should he secretly kidnap her? After all, the child trusted him. The innocent gaze of those blue eyes said everything. But... no, no. It was dangerous.
What if he were reported as a child kidnapper? What if he became a wanted fugitive? This was not his country. Here, he was only a guest—an outsider, an immigrant. He knew nothing about the laws of this land. He could not invite trouble with anyone, least of all be dragged before a court and sentenced. If he were arrested or became a fugitive, would his identity be exposed? Would word about him spread to France? And what would become of Anneliese if he were imprisoned?
No! It was far too dangerous! There was no other way. Every road was blocked, leaving only one door.