Though his insides ached with pain, John mustered all his willpower to stand before him. Looking up, the boy wondered what he was up to. Trying to stand upright, John wobbled. Growling in a low voice, he looked the little boy straight in the eyes. “What are you doing?” John barked, his teeth bared in anger. In confusion, the boy only tilted his head. He responded, looking at his eyes filled with anger. “I'm eating, you should too, otherwise it'll get cold.” He glanced back down at the bread and gulped it down. “I know you're eating, but I'm talking about what happened when you interrupted my plan? You could have waited as I stole.” The little boy looked back up, bursting into a grin. “I wouldn't have a chance to get any. We both got some, so it's okay, right?” The little boy's expression made it hard to stay angry. For some reason, he felt he had done something wrong, which confused his young mind. With a large sigh, he sat back down against the wall. Recognizing the boy's face, he looked up at him. “Wait, you're in the orphanage?” The little boy looked up. His earthy eyes shined at John. He gave a smile before responding to his inquiry. “Yes, I am, and you too, right? We came in at the same time.” Looking back, John did remember a young boy entering with him. However, he didn't even know his name up until now. By the way, I'm John. What's your name?” The little boy stared at John before responding. “Brock. My name is Brock.” Brock sounded a little disoriented, as if he were getting used to his new name. John, as a young boy, couldn't notice this peculiarity. As he ate, his hunger pangs and pain diminished. He glanced at Brock from the corner of his eye after he finished. His small figure caught his attention as he studied it. Compared to John, it would be much easier to move around crowds. Maybe we could… Determined, he drew Brock's attention, who was still nibbling away at his last piece of bread. “Hey, I have an idea.” At John's proposal, Brock tilted his head again. “What is it?” John gave a sly smile, which looked a bit immature on his round face. Brock was even more perplexed as to why John smiled like an idiot. “Why don't we work together?” Brock's mind started to process his words. “What do you want to do?” As he had piqued his interest, John spoke with more enthusiasm, which annoyed Brock. Yet again, John did not notice this. “Here's my idea. I distract the shop owners while you rush in to grab enough food for both of us.” John's simplistic plan seemed to convince Brock, yet he narrowed his eyes when he noticed a blaring detail. “So I would be taking all the risk then. Is that what you're saying?” His plan found out, John clicked his tongue. Working with Brock made his plan much easier, but he didn't want to take all the risk. “You have a smaller body, so you can escape easier than me. I have a good aim, so I can distract them by throwing rocks. Why don't we try it and see how it goes?” Brock looked at John, who had a silly smile. After a while, he sighed. The little boy nodded, putting his hand forward. John smiled from ear to ear, pulling his hand into a firm handshake. So there 'raids' on every market stall began. They raided each stand for the next few weeks, always getting away with foodstuffs in their arms. The more successful they became, the greedier they became, hitting many stalls in a few hours. In comparison to the other children, Bessita, their caretaker, found their development odd. John appeared to be much healthier, and in fact appeared to be fatter than ever. Brock began getting the nutrition his body needed. Despite his short stature, he caught up to and even outgrew some other children. Likewise, Bessita had heard about the two little bandits raiding the stalls almost every week. Bessita had lived her whole life in the town and knew most of the children would never resort to stealing. Putting two and two together, she had an idea of whom the culprits were. She liked to think she knew most of her children. Well, most of them, that is. A worn wooden stick in her hands, Bessita stood before two children. The two children's heads were down, not daring to look at the devil in front of them. Bessie spoke in a haggard voice, yet to the children, it was the most domineering voice they have ever heard. “Do you know who these two bandits are that steal food around town?” The two children looked at each other before responding in a feeble voice. “No, ma'am.” When he uttered those words, a crisp snapping sound echoed through the small room. He winced, feeling his arm throb in pain. Bessita glared at him in anger. “You know liars get a beating, don't you?” The child nodded his head, remembering the others who lied to her had black and blue bruises all over their bodies. He shuddered, thinking he could be next. Bessita, who saw his tearful nodding, sighed in exhaustion. The old woman had no pleasure in beating the children. Even so, she knew how unruly they could become without any discipline, since she was once like that. Ever since she took over the orphanage as a young woman, she has managed it ever since. It was her joy to take care of the children, giving them a bright future to look forward to.

Her children were well-behaved or rather, they had to be around her. Although the children feared her presence, Bessita tried to balance their fear and respect with love and care.

Her two new children, however, seemed to cause quite a bit of trouble for her. She knew John and Brock were leaving each day in secret.

She found out recently, but she wasn't angry.

She felt disappointed, but not with them.

She felt disappointed in herself. Since it opened, the orphanage hadn't been earning much. It has been living on the patronage of a few residents, orphans who grew up, and a single wealthy family's charity.

As a result, she could only starve the children, resulting in this situation. She blamed herself for their thievery. Although she expected the lack of food for the children to cause an incident, seeing it with her own eyes made her heart ache.

Turning to the other child, who stood with his head lowered, she regained her composure. Despite his head down, he could feel her gaze trained on him, making his skull numb. He started blabbering.

“I-I don't know f-for sure. B-but John asked us to help with his plan. W-we d-d-didn't do it though, I swear M'am!” The child bowed low, which caused the other to bow even lower, fearing he would get another beating. Bessita sighed before couching to their eye level. Her gentle voice comforted them as she placed both hands on their shoulders.

“Don't worry, I believe you. Let me bandage your bruise.” After Bessita applied some first aid to the purple bruise, the two's tears had dried up completely. Despite their fear, they showed shaky smiles of gratitude. After sending them off, Bessita had to find the two rascals responsible for the mess. Bessita waited outside the door for them to return, knowing that they were out.

After all, they had no other place to call home.

…

As the sun began to set, another day in Great Colows came to an end. After eating bread, fruits, and vegetables, the two boys returned to the orphanage. When they arrived at the orphanage, they saw their worst fear. As the old hag stood with her arms crossed, the rosy color faded from their faces. Both of them looked at each other, knowing there was no escape. As they raided the stalls every day, it wasn't surprising to them.

Growing up in an orphanage, they overcame their naivety long ago. They braced themselves, walking with heavy footsteps, yet their small steps sounded like soft thuds. Their brave faces had completely disappeared by the time they reached her. Two frail arms embraced them before they could react. Tears soaked their shoulders and necks. Low sobbing sounds cut deep into their hearts, bringing out their buried guilt.

“Why did you have to do this? I don't want you two to be criminals for a loaf of bread. If the sheriff finds out, you'll be gone to the slums! “

Hearing her words, they flinched.

They could only return to the orphanage. If they got kicked out, they would have to live in the slums with the rest of the town's unlucky residents. They saw the grime and dread each one had as they picked through the garbage to find their next meal, as they passed the filthy streets. Additionally, they knew that most of the notorious criminals and even murderers lived deep within the slums, which sent shivers down their spines. They could only feel thankful that Bessita caught them and not the sheriff, who was notorious of his cruelty and unforgiving nature.

Hearing her sobs, the two couldn't help but also break down into tears. They were kids, after all.

“We're sorry M'am.” The both of them said in unison, which pleased Bessita. Wiping away her tears, she stared at them with a serious expression.

“Whose idea was it?” Hearing their question, John and Brock looked at each other. John had to confess, or they would both get punished. John knew what he had to do, but the words wouldn't come. He was afraid of what would happen if he told the truth.

Would she beat him?

Would she kick him out?

Would she starve him for a week?

A multitude of punishments flickered through his young head, fear overwhelming him. Brock and John had always been together for the past couple of weeks, so they were very close friends by now. Brock knew what type of person John was: he always wanted to take risks but never bear the consequences himself. Resolving himself, Brock spoke up, surprising John, who was standing next to him.

“It was me.” His muffled voice rang through John's ears. He turned his head to see Brock's head buried in Bessita's shoulder. Bessita looked at Brock's head before turning towards John, who stood dumbfounded.

“Is that true? Was it all Brock's idea?”

John looked hesitant. He looked back and forth between Bessita and Brock before opening his mouth.