“I… I came here because I had nowhere to go.”
“This is not a hotel.”
“My parents are dead. There is no inheritance. Here is the document that proves our situation.”
I took the papers out of my pocket. After carefully reading the papers, she said, moving her body away from the door.
“Come in.”
“Thank you.”
I grabbed my suitcase and went inside.
A cold and subdued atmosphere lingered, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the lack of sunlight or the exclusive gaze of the woman herself.
She took us to the director’s office.
“Mrs. Simpson. A guest has arrived.”
“Come in.”
An old voice was heard from within.
“Go in.”
I went into the director’s room with Leo and Daniel. An elderly woman with a strict impression greeted us.
“I am Emma Simpson, the director of this place.”
“This is Elizabeth Herrington. Daniel, this is Leonard. They are all my brothers.”
“You are the children of the famous Herringtons. I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Ah…”
“I don’t know, but there has been a lot of buzz in the newspapers about the Herrington Hotel for a while. Because you are Karl Herrington’s children, I thought you would be left at the homes of relatives and acquaintances, but I didn’t know you would come to our institution like this.”
“…The world is not as green as I thought. Rather, can we just talk about that alone without my brothers? They are still young.”
“How old are you?”
Daniel answered Mrs. Simpson’s question.
“I am ten and Leo is eight. But I’m not just ten, so let me stay here.”
“Daniel.”
“Sister. I have a right to be heard. It’s a matter of where we live.”
Mrs. Simpson raised an eyebrow when Daniel used a difficult word for his age.
“Daniel is smart. He is a genius who never forgets what he sees once. Anyways, Daniel, go out with Leo. A ten-year-old is not part of this conversation.”
“Sister!”
When Daniel insisted on his decisive attitude, he was forced to hold Leo’s hand and left the director’s room.
It was a little difficult because I said that I would always be with them, but in any case, the conversation between Mrs. Simpson and I need to be just the two of us.
“Hmm. Actually, I have one more brother. His name is Edward, and he left the house in shock and is missing. I think that child should be taken care of as well.”
“Runaway is common. Okay. How old is he?”
“Thirteen.”
“And you?”
“I am fourteen years old. In five months, I will be fifteen.”
Mrs. Simpson’s pen stopped while taking her notes in the notebook. Suddenly, I felt a vague sense of anxiety. But she continued to ask her questions again as if nothing happened.
