The car stopped in front of a large iron gate draped in bougainvillea. Its white-painted bars were mottled with rust from years of sun and rain. From inside the wide courtyard, a tall, thin nun with a stern face came hurrying out to unlock it. Trailing behind her was a swarm of five- or six-year-olds. As if prepped beforehand, they obediently lined up shoulder to shoulder, waiting to greet whoever was in the car.
"Hello, Grandma!" the kids chirped in unison, arms folded neatly in front of them.
Hiền smirked at the phony little display.
Those brats had probably had their butts tanned plenty to drill that routine to perfection.
While Madam Kim and Đông Anh were being mobbed by the children, Hiền slipped inside through the back entrance of the orphanage. The shabby little door, more like a cat flap or dog hole—was known only to those who'd grown up here.
"Hey, Hiền, what're you doing crawling through the dog hole?" A scrawny, dark-skinned boy of about eight or nine piped up.
"Shh, keep it down!" Hiền dusted off the leaves and dirt clinging to his clothes. "And what're you doing here? Planning to sneak out? It's time for your lesson with me, you know!"
"No, I just…" The boy scratched his head, fumbling for words.
"Inside, now!" Hiền slung an arm over the boy's shoulder and steered him in. "Better behave. Today's a big day for the Big Bad Boss."
"How come? Madam Kim comes here all the time."
Hiền shrugged. "Grown-up business. Kids don't need to know."
"So no lessons today, right? Everyone's outside greeting the guests."
Hiền sighed, shaking his head. "Still having lessons."
Once the boy trotted off toward the common hall, Hiền headed for the orphanage office. It was technically Sister Xuân's workspace, but there was one man who had full rights to rummage through any paper in it.
The man inside glanced up at Hiền. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, the Big Bad Boss sure got dressed up quick," Hiền said.
"Go teach those little devils already."
"Teach what? They've all been ordered outside to put on the welcome act—only one missing is the Big Bad Boss - Dung Tây."
Dung ignored the jab, thought for a moment, then said, "Go keep an eye on those little devils. Don't let them overdo it."
"They trained forever for this—why not let 'em perform?"
"Just do it. And when it's done, get them back to class. We're running late," Dung said, lowering his voice to end the discussion.
Once Hiền was out of sight, Dung let his mind drift back to the thought that had been cut short earlier. This morning, Mr. Liễu had told him there was no need to pick up Đông Anh from school, since Madam Kim was coming over. Figuring the grandmother and grandson would spend the whole day catching up, Dung had swung by the orphanage instead. Who would've thought the old lady would bring the boy here? That had to mean something. So Dung planted himself in the office, determined to avoid putting on the fake smiles and pleasantries.
He went back to his accounting, though his focus was shot. Only after getting the numbers wrong for the third time did he drop his pen with an exasperated sigh. For some reason, he had this gnawing feeling, like he'd forgotten something important. His eyes went to the office door, where the key still sat in the lock.
"The key…" he muttered, suddenly bolting upright.
He dashed upstairs toward the children's sleeping quarters—only to stop cold at the sight of the last room down the hall: the door wide open, the room empty.
"Damn it, Little Hunch!"
The curse was barely out before Dung was charging down toward the common hall. At the base of the stairs, he spotted a hunchbacked boy lurking, peeking his head through the railing. The kid's gaze was fixed on the hall below, his lips curled into a sly, twisted grin. Following that line of sight, Dung's eyes landed on Đông Anh. Beside him, a little girl was tugging at his shirt, palm open with a piece of candy resting in it as if offering it to him.
"No!"
Dung roared, lunging forward to swat the girl's hand away from Đông Anh. The candy fell to the floor, and the girl burst into tears.
"Dung, what are you doing?"
Đông Anh stared, stunned. He started toward the girl, but Dung blocked him.
"You... "
Whatever Đông Anh was about to say was drowned out by the outcry of children clustered around Madam Kim:
"It's the Big Bad Boss!"
"The Big Bad Boss made Liên cry!"
"Quiet! What kind of nonsense is that?" Sister Xuân snapped.
She came over to Dung and Đông Anh. "What happened here?"
The girl stopped crying the instant she saw the nun. Dung pointed at her.
"Who gave you this candy?"
The child pointed to a table tucked beside the base of the stairs. Đông Anh followed her finger and saw a bowl of candy and pastries sitting there. Strangely, a shadow of a boy bolted upstairs at that exact moment, as if running from something.
"That Little Hunch…" Sister Xuân muttered under her breath.
Dung crouched down, picked up the candy, and carefully unwrapped it. What he found inside made him scowl. Đông Anh glanced over and shuddered too. Hidden beneath the candy wrapper was a mangled mess of flesh and skin from a lizard. Dung quickly wrapped it back up and tossed it into the trash just as Madam Kim came over.
"What's going on here?"
"Nothing, Grandma—just some candy left out that got ants," Đông Anh answered smoothly.
"Yes, yes, the kids are careless with their food. Poor Dung's always having to keep an eye on them. Come, let's go sit back down," Sister Xuân urged.
But Đông Anh didn't move. He was watching Dung's face instead—the man was glaring at the children with thinly veiled irritation.
"Quiet. All of you, into the classroom with Hiền, now." Dung's voice was sharp, commanding.
"Now, now, they're just spending time with Madam Kim," Sister Xuân said.
"It's class time, Mother." Then Dung turned back to the kids: "Move it. And you—Lém and Mót—out here."
A boy and a girl stepped reluctantly out of the group, glancing around nervously.
Dung held out his hand. "Hand it over."
The two exchanged a look. One pulled a cross pendant from around her neck; the other slipped off a rosary bracelet.
"I gave those to them," Đông Anh cut in.
"Stay out of it. Let me deal with them."
Taking the items, Dung strode to a steel cabinet against the wall and pulled out a rattan cane.
The kids went pale, eyes darting from one adult to another for help.
"Dung, that's enough," Sister Xuân said, but he ignored her.
"Hands in front!" He pointed the cane at them. "You know what you did wrong?"
"Yes, sir," they chorused, eyes brimming.
"This is the third time—and the last. If I catch you hustling again, your backsides won't be sitting for a week. Got it?"
He cracked the cane through the air with a vicious swish.
"Yes, sir… we're sorry."
"Inside. Now."
They bolted.
"Here, sir, take these back," Dung said, shoving the pendant and bracelet into Đông Anh's hand. "Don't think handing out all your stuff is charity. You're just teaching them bad habits."
Đông Anh stared down at the items, thoughtful.
I feel bad for Madam Kim, forgetting the kids had class… Maybe—"
"No matter," Madam Kim cut in. "It's already past noon. We'll be on our way."
"It's been a while since you came, why not stay for lunch with the children?"
Madam Kim looked to Đông Anh. "What do you think, dear?"
Before Đông Anh could answer, Dung stepped in: "Lunch here's chaotic, not a good idea for you, sir."
"But I want to help."
"Go home." Dung's voice was low, his grip on the cane like a silent threat.
That only made Đông Anh dig his heels in. "Grandma, why don't you head back and rest? I'll stay."
The old woman studied them, then smiled. "Alright. I'll leave him here. Please bring my grandson home later, Dung."
So it wasn't by chance she'd brought Đông Anh here. Dung could feel she was sizing him up.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing slightly.
"Walk me out," Madam Kim said, following Sister Xuân to the gate.
Dung turned to Đông Anh. "Don't hang around here alone. Cross the yard and you'll see the kids' classroom—go there."
With that, he hurried to the gate, just in time to catch up with Madam Kim.
"Do come again sometime, the children adore you," Sister Xuân said wistfully.
"I will. My grandson will probably be begging to come back here all the time. Ah—Dung, step out here a moment, I have something to tell you."
Seeing that Madam Kim wanted a private word, Sister Xuân excused herself and went back inside.
Madam Kim looked at Dung for a long moment before speaking.
"How long have you been looking after the children here?"
"About two or three years, ma'am—ever since I moved out. Before that, there were a few people helping Mother Xuân, but one by one they left because of family matters. So whenever I had free time, I'd come back here."
"A pimp like you—why do this work? Are you making money off the kids, or are you paying back the place that took you in?"
Dung didn't answer right away. He held her gaze, wondering what she wanted to see in him.
"I'm afraid of ending up in hell forever, ma'am. There are more than twenty children here—innocent kids. If no one raises them and they grow up to be pimps like me, my sins would never be washed away, not even in a hundred years."
Madam Kim pointed at his chest, where his heart was pounding.
"For a pimp, you've still got something there. If you're truly afraid of hell, you'd better protect Đông Anh with everything you've got. That boy is an angel of God. If you let him be tainted, unable to return to Him, you won't have to wait until death—God will make sure you live out your days in torment right here in this life."
Dung bowed his head in feigned obedience.
"And don't think of this as some burden," she went on. "One day, you'll want to protect the boy's purity of your own accord. I guarantee it."
Dung stiffened at the word purity.
It was exactly what kept him from looking away from Đông Anh.
"My family will pay you well, son. As for me, I won't let a single child in this orphanage end up on the street as a pimp—as long as you… do your job right."
She patted his shoulder and went to her car.
Dung drifted back inside, the word purity still snagged in his thoughts.
"Protect his purity… of my own accord?" he murmured.
.
At lunchtime, the common hall doubled as a dining room. The kids bustled about, each lugging tables or chairs according to their size and strength, quickly arranging the place into neat rows.
Once everyone was seated, the adults began doling out food. For the moment, Đông Anh was helping Hiền play babysitter.
"I thought you'd have gone home by now," Hiền said.
"I wanted to stay and help. Back in Đà Lạt, I'd sometimes drop by orphanages to lend a hand. Gotta say, the kids here are impressive—take care of themselves, eat on their own."
Hiền chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not like they've got anyone to spoon-feed them. And here, they've got their own jungle law. If one kid refuses to eat, the older ones give 'em a beating. No grown-ups need to lift a finger."
Đông Anh's eyes widened. "No one steps in? How can you let that happen in an orphanage?"
"What's so strange about it? An orphanage raises kids but how they do it is up to the grown-ups. If they think certain unspoken rules help keep things running smoothly, they let it happen."
"But—"
"Unless… someone stages a rebellion." Hiền patted Đông Anh's shoulder and leaned in to whisper.
Looking at the innocent faces of the children, Đông Anh felt a pang in his chest. He murmured to himself, "This place is supposed to be built on love, isn't it?"
"Hungry yet? I'll get you a plate," Hiền offered.
Đông Anh shook his head, pressing on: "How long have you been teaching here? You seem to know the place inside out."
"I used to live here."
That caught Đông Anh off guard again.
"Let me tell you about mealtime back then. I couldn't stand green onions, so once I left a few bites of egg with onions on my plate. Big Bad Boss gave me a beating for it."
Hiền nodded toward a photo on the wall—a shot of Dung grinning at the orphanage gate, surrounded by kids.
"Dung lived here too?" Đông Anh asked.
"Lived here so long everyone had to call him Big Bad Boss."
Đông Anh still looked amazed. "So… were you two close?"
"No. That guy bullied everyone—who'd dare be close to him?" Hiền said, without the slightest hesitation.
Meeting both of them in the same place… what a coincidence, Đông Anh thought.
From the stairwell came the sudden sound of a child's cries: "No! Let me go, I'm not coming down!"
"You will. No one here's a stranger to you. Get down here and eat with the others—now!" Dung's voice thundered.
"No… no…"
Ignoring the child's struggles, Dung hauled him down and set him in front of the dining table.
"From now on, you're eating down here—no exceptions!"
Every eye in the room turned toward the newcomer. And now, for the first time, Đông Anh got a clear look at the boy's face and could only think to himself: Quasimodo!
The kid was straight out of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame: a hunched back, a twisted face with one blind eye bulging outward, and a wide cleft in his lip that exposed a row of crooked, yellow teeth. The only difference was that this "Quasimodo" still had one side of his face intact. Cover the deformed side, and he was almost… cute.
"Little Hunch!"
"Little Hunch is here…"
The whispers rippled through the children. They began shuffling their chairs, closing up any empty space as if to keep Little Hunch from sitting down.
Seeing their reaction, the deformed boy yelled:
"Let me go!"
He sank his teeth into Dung's arm and wrenched himself free.
"Damn it!" Dung clutched the bitten arm.
"You're bleeding!"
"Little Hunch bites—don't go near him."
The room buzzed with chatter until Dung barked:
"Quiet! Eat! If I ever hear anyone refuse to let Phong sit with them, or pointing fingers at him, you'll get your butts tanned—understood?"
"That's ridiculous," Hiền shot back. "The kids have the right to be scared."
"Scared of what? They've lived together long enough," Dung growled, heading to the sink to wash the bite.
He pressed a wad of cotton to it, then—just when it seemed over—strode back toward the tables with the rattan cane in hand. The sight of it shut the kids right up.
"Anyone breaks my word—this is waiting for you." He held the cane high in warning before turning on his heel and heading upstairs.
Watching Dung's menacing figure retreat, Đông Anh felt a pang of worry for Little Hunch.
"Don't. It's nothing unusual here," Hiền said, giving Đông Anh's shoulder a pat. "Besides, there's a reason that kid's called Little Hunch—he's just as much trouble as the Big Bad Boss himself. Leave it."