The Villainous Director Is Raising a Child!

Never put anything a stranger gives you in your mouth.

Don't ever follow someone you don't know.

The lessons the Director had drilled into them until their ears were raw.

Those lessons kept a firm grip on the kids' good sense, even in the face of hunger.

Even as they swallowed dry, the kids backed away and kept their mouths clamped shut.

The robot's eyes, watching that sharp wariness, went round ( O . O ), and then an admiring voice flowed out.

[Oh my... you've been raised very well, haven't you? Splendid.]

But the praise lasted only a moment before the robot floated a bead of sweat ( ; ; ) on its screen, as if troubled, and muttered.

[Hmm... but there really isn't anything in it. How can I prove it so you'll believe me...]

The robot tapped its temple with a scrap-metal finger, sunk in thought.

Then, as if something had struck it, it cried out.

[Ah! Hold on just a moment!]

The robot rummaged in its clattering body and pulled out something like a silver rod.

And it ran the thing over the cake and cookies on the table.

Jing— jing—

Along with a crisp mechanical sound, a hologram window popped up in the air.

[ Toxin reaction: none ]

[ Harmful substances: 0% ]

[ Sweetness: very high (a flavor kids will love) ]

The robot showed the kids the readings and put a bright grin ( ^ ▽ ^ ) back on its screen.

[There, look. 100% safe. Does that put you at ease now?]

But the kids still hesitated.

"What do we do... should we eat it?"

"If we don't eat it and we hurt its feelings... what if it doesn't let us leave..."

The kids whispered, watching each other for cues.

That was when it happened.

Sihyeok, who had been standing there without a word, walked over to the table, step by step.

"Oppa?"

Before Hayun could even call out, Sihyeok picked up a chocolate cookie in his bare hand and brought it to his mouth.

Crunch.

"...!"

The sound of the cookie breaking rang out oddly loud in the quiet garden.

"Hyung!"

"Oppa!"

"Sihyeok!!"

The kids cried out, aghast.

Ari's face went deathly pale and she pounded on Sihyeok's back.

"Are you crazy?! You can't just eat it! Spit it out, spit it out, quick!"

But Sihyeok chewed the cookie in silence, then swallowed it down.

"It's good."

"What?"

"It's just a good cookie."

Only then did the taut string of tension finally snap.

"Ugh, seriously..."

Hayun wobbled as if her legs had given out, then shot him a sidelong glare.

"Oppa, honestly! Why've you always been like this!"

"...I was hungry."

"Liar!"

At Sihyeok's excuse, a small laugh burst out among the kids.

Their wariness melted away like snow, and one by one the kids settled in around the table.

And so a strange tea party began in that unfamiliar underground garden.

The kids, who had picked at the food at first for fear it was poisoned, were soon stuffing their cheeks full like squirrels, mouths crammed with cookies.

[Eat slowly. You'll give yourselves a stomachache.]

[ ◠ ‿ ◠ ]

The robot filled its screen with a warm eye-smile and topped off the kids' empty teacups with warm milk.

The kids felt it on instinct.

That this old lump of scrap, far from meaning them harm, was treating them as something precious.

Just five to eight years old.

At that age, warm kindness and sweet snacks left them defenseless.

Once their bellies were full and the tension had eased, the curiosity that comes so naturally to kids started to surface.

"Um, excuse me... Mr. Robot!"

Hayun, cake smeared all around her mouth, called out with shining eyes.

"This is really yummy! Did you make it yourself? I never saw cheesecake with cherries inside before! You don't even have a kitchen — how'd you make it?"

At the kid's gushing praise, the robot squirmed bashfully.

Red blushing pixels rose on its screen, on either cheek, as if embarrassed.

[(❁´◡`❁)]

[Hehe, it's a secret. That's... my own special recipe.]

At that, Suho, next to her, tilted his head, cheeks packed with cookie.

"Mr. Robot, what do you eat for meals? Do you eat batteries? Or... do you drink milk like us?"

[Hmm... I like the taste of electricity best. It's all zappy and tingly, and very tasty.]

When the robot answered playfully and put a lightning-bolt shape ( ⚡️ ڡ ⚡️ ) on its screen, the kids burst out into shrieks of giggles, clutching their sides.

"Hehe, it says electricity's tasty!"

"Then a day with lightning must be like buffet day!"

While the kids were chattering, Hajun hid behind Hayun's back and tugged at her sleeve.

He kept sneaking glances at the robot's rusted legs and whispered something, so Hayun spoke up for him.

"Mr. Robot, Hajun's worried. He wants to know if that red part is 'cause you're bleeding and got hurt."

At that pure, innocent heart, the robot's screen shifted into a soft curve ( ◡ ‿ ◡ ).

[Oh my... our little guest has a very good eye. Thank you for worrying. This isn't an injury — hmm, it's more like a very old medal of honor. Isn't it cool?]

At the robot's answer, Hajun, hiding behind Hayun, murmured, tiny.

"...It's cool. It's red, so... you're like a robot captain."

At Hajun's shy praise, hearts (❤️´艸｀❤️) popped and bloomed all over the robot's screen.

[Goodness, thank you! Robot captain — I really love that nickname.]

The kids chattered and shrieked with laughter for a good while, and then, at some point, their voices began to trail off little by little.

As the sweet cake plates emptied and their stomachs filled, the worry they'd buried deep down quietly resurfaced.

"You know, Mr. Robot... we've got something on our minds."

A curious expression ( ⊙_⊙ )? popped up on the robot's screen with a ding.

"Little guest. What's troubling you?"

"So... there's this grown-up..."

Suho went on, voice dispirited.

"He's... the first grown-up here who was ever nice to us."

Suho went on, voice dispirited.

"It used to be like hell here. They just gave us shots, wouldn't even feed us... and forced us to fight monsters."

"..."

"Honestly, the Director scared us more than anyone at first. Even when we cried because it hurt, he'd just stand outside the glass and watch, smiling."

The Director of those days had been terror itself.

Just dredging the memory up made a corner of their chests throb, as if a healed wound had split open again.

Suho's expression darkened for a moment.

But he soon let out a deep breath and settled his voice back into something calm.

"But then one day, he suddenly changed. He drove all the bad people out and saved us. He gave us good food... put warm clothes on us, too."

At that, Hayun's eyes lit up and she cut in.

"That's right! He got really kind. Every night he'd come stroke our hair and read us storybooks!"

"At the evaluation he blocked a monster's attack for us, too."

Pride and affection for the Director dripped from every line of the kids' faces.

But.

"..."

Suho hugged his knees and spoke up, his face dark.

"But... a while ago, we overheard it by accident. That we're just... tools and toys..."

At those words, the kids' heads drooped low.

"So we just can't figure out what the Director really feels. What he does is warm but what he says is cold... so we can't tell what he really means."

Suho went on, voice trembling.

"The truth is, coming here... it was because we wanted to find out how the Director really feels about us. Whether he'd worry and come looking if we disappeared, or just throw us away because we're tools..."

"We really like the Director. We wanna be his family... but the Director really might think we're just tools... And that's so scary..."

"..."

The robot, listening to the kids' story, fell quiet for a moment. Across its cathode-ray screen, a ripple of some tangled emotion wavered.

[Say... this Director of yours...]

"Yes?"

[Dazzling golden hair, bright as sunshine... a fairly handsome man, is he?]

"Huh?! That's right!"

"Mr. Robot, how do you know our Director?!"

The kids' eyes went round and they buzzed.

In that instant, every expression on the robot's cathode-ray screen vanished with a pat.

[ ...... ]

A brief stillness. A mechanical silence stretched out.

Just as the kids, puzzled, were about to call out — "Mr. Robot?"

Ding-a-ling!

A smile brighter and more mischievous than any before ( ^ ▽ ^ ) rose on the robot's screen.

[Oh my goodness! I know him — know him very well indeed! And what's more...!]

It dropped its voice low, as if about to share some tremendous secret.

[I happen to know one huuuge secret about that Director of yours... shall I tell it to my little guests, just you?]

"A secret? What is it?!"

"Quick! Tell us quick, please? Yeah?"

The kids couldn't hide their excitement and shot up out of their seats.

The robot leaned its body deeper toward the kids.

The five kids' heads and the robot's cathode-ray screen drew close enough to almost touch.

[...The Director, ever since he was little, you see...]

The robot drew out the pause, then whispered in a very small, secret voice.

[When he tells a lie, the tip of his nose gives a little 'twitch.']

"...Huh?"

"His n-nose twitches?"

[Yes, that's right. When his heart and his words don't match, the bridge of his nose gets itchy and moves all on its own.]

"Whoaa..."

Hayun clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

"His nose twitches like a rabbit's?"

At Suho's question, the robot threw a wink ( ㅇ ‿ < ).[That's right. That's the magic signal that lets you know the Director's 'true feelings.' Even if he says something cold with his mouth, if his nose twitches? That means it's 100% a lie.]

The kids' eyes began to shine in a way they hadn't before.

"No way... if that's true... next time we see the Director we gotta watch close!"

"Yeah! Don't listen to his words, just look at his nose!"

The kids put their heads together and whispered like they were holding a war council.

But that spirited war council didn't last very long.

The mouths that had chattered so eagerly at first about how to steer the Director into conversation gradually slowed, and soon even the thread of the conversation scattered into a haze.

After the escape uproar since the crack of dawn and the terror of getting lost, now that their stomachs were full too, nothing could hold back the flood of sleep.

Hajun was already nodding off, head drooping, and had started to lean against Hayun's shoulder, and even plucky Ari found her eyelids gone heavy as lead and rubbed at her eyes.

The robot's screen shifted into a peaceful moon shape ( ☾ ◡ ☾ ).

[Looks like everyone's batteries have run all the way down. Why don't you shut your eyes for a little while?]

Suho mumbled, struggling to force his closing eyes open.

"Come to think of it... we gotta keep watch... to see if the Director comes for us... gotta see the nose twitch..."

"Yeah... we gotta wait up..."

But whatever their mouths said, their bodies had already reached the gates of dreamland.

Sllide.

From somewhere in the robot's body, warm, fluffy blankets in pastel tones appeared as if by magic, as if fresh out of the dryer.

"..."

"Mmm..."

The thought that they had to stay awake, their curiosity about the Director — all of it forgotten in a blur.

The kids leaned against each other, breathing the deep, weary breaths of sleep, and sank into slumber.

How long did they sleep?

Crash-bang—!!

A frantic roar shattered the quiet stillness.

"...Mmh?"

It was before the kids could even startle awake and rub their eyes.

Someone came tearing out of the dark like lightning and swept the kids up into a fierce embrace.

"You kids!!"

Along with ragged breathing came a familiar warmth.

Into the eyes of the half-dreaming kids, even in the dark, came a brilliant flash of golden hair.

It was the Director.

He frantically ran his hands over the kids, checking for any injury, then let out a roar.

"Have you kids — have you completely lost your minds?!"

The kids' shut eyes flew open.

The scene that swam into their half-dreaming view was no longer a warm garden.

A cold cement floor, and hundreds of robots standing in dead-still ranks and files in the dark.

And the letters [B3] marked on the wall.

In the middle of that bleak, cold place, the Director stood with a cluster of ashen-faced researchers.

He must have run the moment he woke — he was gasping for breath in nothing but thin silk pajamas, without so much as a coat thrown over them.

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