Chapter 12

The boy wasn’t frightened or confused. He simply sat down, waiting for our next move, and continued staring straight at us.

"Anji, Miss Elizabeth wants to talk to you. You can speak in the dining hall," said Vaalsi, gesturing toward the door. "He’ll escort you. The room will be free for another hour."

"Thank you."

Sitting at the wide table in the dining hall, spreading out papers in front of the boy, Elizabeth steered the conversation in the direction she wanted.

"Hello, Anji. My name is Eliza Donovan. I’m a psychologist, and I help children adjust to life in the orphanage. You could be considered one of those who struggle with peer relationships. You don’t talk to the other kids, and you’re always fighting."

The boy showed no reaction to her words, only listening indifferently. His facial muscles were relaxed—no nervousness, no response. The psychologist’s sharp eye noted every detail.

"You used to talk to others, but now you’ve stopped. Well? What do you say?"

Anji sat in silence, like any child who didn’t want to share anything. His arms were folded, legs crossed.

"I was at the spaceport,"—the boy’s gaze flickered with interest—"I spoke to the foreman. He said you’ve spent all your free time there for the past year. You worked with Engineer Galboa and talked to everyone just fine, but inside the orphanage walls, you haven’t said a word to anyone."

Now, Anji’s demeanor shifted to wariness, as if bracing for a blow. He glanced at the cameras—turned off—and at seemingly empty spots in the room. When a patient shuts themselves off from the world and refuses to engage, a psychologist’s job is to pull them out of their comfort zone and provoke a reaction.

"Stop this silence! I’m talking to you!" Eliza raised her voice sharply, hoping to catch him off guard. He was already on edge, visibly frightened. His eyes darted around, lingering on the exit. "If you don’t start talking right now, I’ll tell the others that you can talk—and that you’ve been snitching on them to the supervisor."

Anji instantly stilled. A flash of anger and disgust crossed his face before vanishing. He stood and walked toward the exit, stopping at the force field blocking the dining hall entrance.

Now was the time to push him while he was scared.

"You’re not leaving until I say so! And if you don’t sit back down right now, I’ll make sure Galboa loses his medical benefits."

Anji glared at her with unconcealed fury, jaw clenched. But even now, he didn’t speak. Instead, he slammed his palm against the force field’s control panel and disabled it with two swift motions.

Eliza sat at the table, gathering her thoughts. The boy wouldn’t let her in, wouldn’t trust her. Orphanage kids only responded to force—kindness and care were seen as weakness. Her attempt to pressure him had backfired spectacularly. His peers didn’t scare him, and invoking Galboa’s name hadn’t triggered fear—only rage.