The flashback began softly, as if the past were opening its doors.

  Morning sunlight spilled over the enormous building standing at the far end of a quiet Cumilla neighborhood.

  Arvona Children's Heaven.

  Despite being built in 1997, its design was strangely elegant for an orphanage—broad pillars, arched windows with dark wooden frames, pale cream walls that glowed under the sun.

  A wide staircase led up to the entrance, the railings painted in a glossy deep green, the style unmistakably from that decade.

  SORA'S THOUGHT — "It really did look like a paradise from the outside."

  The sun stretched across the front field—FWOOOSH—a warm breeze running over the grass.

  Children were everywhere.

  Dozens ran barefoot across the open field, chasing each other, laughing, screaming with joy.

  HAH—HAH—HAH—!Tiny feet pattered over the ground.

  Older kids played football near the far end.

  A small group blew soap bubbles that floated like shimmering ghosts in the sunlight.

  The place was alive.

  Bright.

  Cheerful.

  Radiant.

  Anyone who walked in for the first time would have thought—

  "This must be the best orphanage in the world."

  The smiles of the children were warmer than the sunlight itself.

  Soraya's younger voice echoed faintly in the memory.

  SORA'S THOUGHT — "Back then… I really believed all of this."

  The building looked like a haven.

  The laughter sounded like joy.

  Everything felt like peace.

  Just like its name—

  Heaven.

  At least…that was the illusion.

  Soraya's quiet breath passed through the memory like a ripple across water.

  SORA'S THOUGHT — "If only the outside told the truth about what was happening inside…"

  ***

  Underground—beneath Arvona Children's Heaven.

  Darkness swallowed everything.

  A weak, flickering bulb buzzed overhead—

  BZZT… BZBZTT——casting sickly yellow light over the damp concrete floor.

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  An eleven-year-old boy lay curled on the ground.

  His clothes were smeared with dirt.

  His face was pale, hollow… as if life had been drained out of him over days.

  Slow, shallow breaths slipped from his cracked lips.

  Then—

  THUD… THUD… THUD…

  Footsteps.

  The boy's eyes snapped open.

  He jerked to his feet instantly, body trembling, hope crashing through him like a sudden miracle.

  "S-Sir? Sir, is that you?"

  His voice quivered with desperate relief.

  "D-Did you come to save me now? Am… am I going to be okay? Will I finally be free from this pain?"

  The silhouette stepped into the dim circle of light.

  A man in his forties.

  The headmaster.

  His smile twisted unnaturally—too wide, too calm—like a mask worn by the devil himself.

  Behind him stood two other men, each carrying cold, metallic medical instruments—scalpels, clamps, tools meant for surgery.

  But nothing about their faces looked medical.

  Their grins were rotten.

  Hungry.

  Wrong.

  The headmaster crouched slightly, voice soft—almost fatherly.

  "Yes, my boy," he said, stroking the air with false warmth. "You're going to be just fine."

  Then his tone dropped… sharpened… cracked open.

  "But first…"His smile widened grotesquely.

  "You'll need to endure just a bit more pain."

  A pause.

  "No—"His voice thundered suddenly, dripping with cruelty.

  "SO MUCH PAIN."

  The two men stepped forward.

  CLINK… CLINK…Their instruments lightly tapped against each other.

  "Don't be scared, boy," one said with a chillingly casual tone."We'll be done in a few moments."

  "And then," the other added, eyes gleaming,

  "you'll be free from everything."

  But their expressions said the opposite.

  The boy staggered back, each step trembling.

  "W-Who are you? What are you going to do to me?"

  He turned to the headmaster, eyes wide, pleading.

  "Sir… why are they here? Please… please tell them to stop. They're scaring me…"

  The headmaster's gaze softened artificially, lips still curled in that monstrous smile.

  "Don't worry," he said gently. "They're here to help you. To save you from your pain."

  "N-No…"

  The boy shook his head violently.

  "I don't want them to save me! Please—please make them stop!"

  "That won't do, my boy."

  The headmaster straightened, voice turning playful—like he was talking about a harmless prank.

  "We must do it. Even if you don't want us to."

  The two men closed in.

  Step by step.

  STEP… STEP… STEP…

  The boy's voice rose higher and higher—fear shifting into raw terror.

  "No—NO—DON'T—STAY AWAY—!!"

  And then—

  A scream tore through the underground.

  Not human.

  Not natural.

  A horrifying, bone-shaking cry that echoed across the concrete walls—

  "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—!!"

  A scream that marked the beginning of hell.

  ***

  SORA'S THOUGHT —

  As time passed…

  children began to disappear.

  One by one.

  Quietly.

  Without a sound.

  At first, we didn't understand it.

  One child was "too sick."

  Another was "sent to a hospital."

  Another was "adopted suddenly."

  But no one ever came back.

  No one ever sent letters.

  No one ever called.

  Even as little kids, we understood one thing—

  Something was wrong.

  Something was very wrong.

  The adults pretended not to notice.

  Or maybe… they were scared too.

  Even if someone knew the truth, they never dared to speak.

  Everyone turned their faces away.

  But all of us orphans…we felt it.

  Because before going missing…

  every single one of them became sick.

  Fever.

  Vomiting.

  Shaking.

  Unable to walk.

  Crying from pain none of us could understand.

  And then…

  gone.

  Just gone.

  We were terrified.

  We were sad.

  We were each other's only family.

  We ate together, slept together, shared blankets, shared laughter.

  Even if we had no parents…we had each other.

  To lose someone from our home was like losing a piece of our own body.

  But among us—

  Jihan suffered the most.

  He was always the most emotional one.

  He wasn't just our eldest brother…

  He was the heart of the orphanage.

  He believed—truly believed—that everyone here was his real family.

  He never questioned it.

  Never doubted it.

  When someone cried, he was the first to comfort them.

  When someone was bullied, he was the first to stand up.

  When someone fell, he was the first to pick them up.

  He would give away his food, his clothes, even the little treats he got from outside visitors.

  Because for him…"family" meant everything.

  So when the children began disappearing…

  Jihan couldn't handle it.

  Not even a little.

  His smile started fading.

  His footsteps became slower.

  His eyes… always looked like they were on the verge of breaking.

  He was sad.

  Sad more than any of us.

  Sad in a way that felt like his whole world was being torn apart.

  And even now…

  even after all these years…

  I can still remember the look on his face during those days.

  A look I never wanted to see again.

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