"Master Koraxa. Are we going to get better?" A small boy asked with a smile as if he didn't want to worry him.
Koraxa clenched his fists. The boy in front of him was covered in bruises.
"Of course, things will get better from now on." Koraxa bent his knees and stroked the boy's head.
When he turned his head around, he would see another child eating rotten bread. No, it would be more accurate to say that the child was devouring the bread so that no one could steal it.
But he would soon clutch his stomach while crying in pain, as though everything he had eaten these days was gnawing at him from the inside.
Yet he gritted his teeth as if he were determined to survive.
On another corner, there was a mother who hugged bread as if she had protected it with her life. Next to her was her child, who was crying as her mother breathed her last, just so that the child could eat.
Koraxa felt like he wanted to throw up, but he couldn't show weakness. They needed to survive.
