Rich Cat A Would Never Fall in Love with a Fake Heiress - Chapter 38.1

Number 30 nodded, clearly accustomed to enduring such treatment.

An Suna, now reassured, tapped the table and raised her voice to issue the command: “Begin the prayer.”

Everyone closed their eyes, clasped their hands in front of their chests, moving in perfect unison.

A child who had been sneaking food immediately set down the fork, the metal clattering loudly against the porcelain plate.

An Suna glanced at the number on the child’s badge.

“04, no dinner for you. You know what to do.”

04’s face filled with fear as she timidly put down the fork and walked to the corner.

Then, lifting her skirt for An Suna, she pinched her inner thigh with all her might. A three- or four-year-old child, using every ounce of strength, bruised the delicate skin until it turned purple.

An Suna signaled the others to continue eating, but her eyes remained fixed on 30’s meal.

When 30 speared a piece of roasted potato, An Suna scolded sternly, “The main course today is flatbread. You can’t have any more carbs. If you get fat, you won’t look good anymore.”

Without hesitation, 30 set the potato down.

An Suna nodded in satisfaction. “The same goes for the rest of you. You may only choose one serving of meat, sweets, or the main course, no larger than the size of your palm. Don’t let me catch you taking more, or you’ll all be standing in the corner as punishment.”

From the corner, 04’s sobs echoed at just the right moment. The skin on her inner thighs was entirely bruised, devoid of its natural color. Her nails had broken the tender skin, and blood trickled down her legs.

Yet everyone seemed to ignore it, though their movements while eating became noticeably more restrained.

While their attention was on the food, 30 quietly tightened her grip on the metal knife she was using to cut the flatbread.

Her elbow tensed, and with a forceful motion disguised as slicing the bread, the blade scraped against her other arm.

The knife was dull, but luckily, it still had serrated edges for cutting meat.

She couldn’t suppress a cry of pain. An Suna immediately looked down, ignoring 30’s tear-filled eyes, and grabbed her arm to inspect it.

The fair skin was scraped, leaving a long, intermittent mark that stood out starkly, with beads of blood oozing from it.

Furious, An Suna pinched 30’s thigh.

“Why aren’t you more careful?”

She shot a glance at the two teachers cleaning the dining area. “Keep an eye on them.”

As An Suna turned to leave, 30 quickly slipped two roasted potatoes into her handbag.

The slightly plump teacher glanced over but said nothing. Instead, she took two pieces of bread and tucked them into the pocket of the youngest child in the class.

Children of this age were already adept at reading the room, and everyone took the opportunity to eat their food heartily.

An Suna returned shortly. Unaware of the irregularities on the table, she took out a healing device, grabbed 30’s arm, and treated the wound repeatedly until only a faint white line remained.

Clicking her tongue in dissatisfaction, she reached out and poked 30’s chest sharply. “Behave yourself next time.”

30 merely nodded without a word.

After lunch came the rare quiet of naptime. Though unsupervised, noise and laughter were still forbidden.

Two boys walked side by side, laughing as they crossed the hallway, and An Suna’s voice immediately echoed through the broadcast.

“26 and 29, no dinner for you. If you laugh so rudely like that at your adoptive family’s home, you’ll be sent back.”

30 stood quietly in the corridor, gazing at the surveillance cameras and loudspeakers, her delicate face expressionless and cold.

In this orphanage, the orphans were like high-priced commodities, meticulously displayed in glass cases, with no one caring about their thoughts.

She tightened her grip on her handbag and cautiously descended the steps in small strides.

Stepping out of the building that served as both a classroom and a cafeteria, she walked along the wall for a while before slipping into a gap in the flowerbed greenery. Then, bending low, she turned and followed the green plants.

At the blind spot of the surveillance, the view suddenly opened up to reveal an untrimmed, thick lawn where 04 was sitting with her legs wide apart.

30 handed over a baked potato.

“For you.”

04’s eyes lit up, and she immediately cupped it with both hands. Just as she was about to take a bite, she seemed to remember something, turned her head, and smiled.

“Thank you.”

Only then did she lower her head. Though clearly starving, she clasped her hands together in prayer before starting to eat the potato delicately.

At Maria Orphanage, etiquette was of the utmost importance. No one was allowed to speak too loudly or too softly, items had to be received with both hands, thanks had to be given, eating had to be done without making noise, and dining postures had to be standard and elegant.

Everything was prioritized according to the preferences of the adoptive parents, after all, no one liked impolite children.

Including pre-meal prayers, as well as illustration and massage classes, all were set up to meet some of the special needs of the adoptive parents.

30 nodded, sat down herself, and took out a potato, nibbling on it in small bites.

04 swallowed the last bite of her potato and stared longingly at the half remaining in 30’s hand.

“I really envy you. The teacher says you’re the most well-behaved, and tomorrow you’ll be taken away by an adoptive family.”

30 glanced at her. They weren’t particularly close, as the schedule at Maria was too tight, leaving little time for the children to interact.

04’s eyes shone with a simple yet greedy light as she swallowed her saliva.

“Your potato is bigger than mine, right? Otherwise, how come I’ve finished mine, and you still have half left?”

30 directly handed over the remaining half of the baked potato, brushed the grass off her skirt, and returned to the classroom alone.

The classes were all designed to please and serve others, teaching them to play elegant music but not more complex mathematics.

It was as if they were treating them as slaves born without the need for thought.

The teacher for this class also came to the podium and, seeing 30 sitting quietly in the empty classroom, sighed with pity and placed a piece of candy on her desk.

30 was a bit puzzled, but here, asking fewer questions meant making fewer mistakes, it was the most basic rule.

She lowered her head to look at the pages of her book.

She had been here since she was old enough to remember, and now, at five years old, she was considered one of the children who had stayed here the longest.

An Suna seemed intent on keeping her to sell her for a high price.

Over the years, countless children had been adopted from here. Every time a child left, An Suna would acquire another piece of branded clothing or jewelry.

A few adoptive parents came frequently, each time taking away at least one satisfied child.

An Suna called them great benefactors.