Chapter 413 They’re Goblins, not Porcelain Dolls

Another hatchling, perhaps inspired by the fleeting success of its sibling, turned its attention to a small gap in the corner of the box. The gap was narrow, barely wider than the width of its tiny body, but the hatchling saw it as a possible escape route. It squeezed itself into the opening, its fragile ribs creaking under the pressure. For a moment, it seemed like it might make it through, but then it got stuck. The hatchling writhed and struggled, its brittle ribs crunching as it pushed against the unyielding wood. Its tiny legs kicked feebly, and its mouth opened in a silent scream as blood began to drip from its quivering lips. Slowly, its strength gave out, and its body went limp, dangling from the gap like a broken doll.

The hatchlings, driven by a mixture of hunger and desperation, began to pile up on one side of the box, hoping that their combined weight might somehow tip it over. But their efforts only led to more suffering. The hatchlings at the bottom of the pile were crushed under the weight of their siblings, their tiny bodies unable to withstand the pressure. They squealed in pain, their limbs flailing as they tried to free themselves, but it was no use. The ones on top, unaware of the harm they were causing, continued to scramble upward, their tiny claws digging into the soft bodies of those below.

The hatchlings at the bottom were left trampled, their fragile bones cracking under the weight. They thrashed on the ground, their squeals of pain growing weaker with each passing moment. The ones who had caused the harm looked down in confusion, their tiny faces filled with guilt and sorrow. They had not meant to hurt their siblings, but their desperation had blinded them to the consequences of their actions.

 They huddled together, their cries soft and pitiful, their eyes filled with tears. They were so small, so helpless, and the world outside the box seemed impossibly far away.

Suzuka sat at the edge of the room, her posture relaxed, her sharp eyes half-lidded as she lazily chewed on a succulent piece of steak. The meat was tender, perfectly cooked, and every bite was a delight to her senses. Her attention, however, was occasionally drawn to the small wooden box in the corner of the room, where the goblin hatchlings were squirming and squeaking in what seemed to her like a chaotic, nonsensical display.

From her vantage point, the hatchlings' desperate struggles looked almost... playful. Their tiny bodies wriggled and tumbled over one another, their high-pitched squeaks blending into a cacophony that Suzuka found more amusing than concerning. She tilted her head, her sharp teeth tearing off another piece of steak as she watched them with a puzzled expression.

"What in the world are they fussing about now?" she thought,"There are no rats around to bother them. Hermit fed them just an hour ago. Are they not satisfied? Or do they just enjoy making noise?"

She leaned back as she observed the hatchlings. One of them was dangling limply from a gap in the box, its tiny body twitching occasionally. Another was lying on its back, its legs kicking feebly in the air. The rest were piled up in a squirming heap, their tiny claws scratching at the walls of the box.

"Do they want to stretch their legs or something?" she wondered,"They’re so small and fragile. If they keep this up, they’re going to hurt themselves. Honestly, what a bunch of lousy hatchlings."

She took another bite of her steak, chewing slowly as she continued to watch them. To her, their struggles seemed unnecessary, almost comical. She couldn’t understand why they were so frantic. The box was safe, wasn’t it? It kept them contained, away from predators and cold. What more could they possibly want?

"Maybe they’re just bored. But what am I supposed to do about that? I’m not their entertainer. Hermit’s the one who insisted on keeping them. If they’re so miserable, maybe he should deal with it."

 She leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the hatchlings more closely. One of them was bleeding from its mouth, its tiny body trembling as it dangled from the gap in the box. Another was lying motionless at the bottom of the pile, its chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths.

"Huh," she muttered aloud, "They really are a pathetic bunch. Maybe I should check on them... later. After I finish eating."

She took another bite of her steak, her attention already drifting away from the hatchlings. To her, their misery was nothing more than background noise, a minor distraction in an otherwise peaceful moment. She couldn’t comprehend the depth of their suffering, nor did she particularly care to. In her eyes, they were just goblin hatchlings—small, weak, and ultimately insignificant.

But as she chewed, her gaze lingered on the box for a moment longer. The hatchlings’ cries, though faint, seemed to echo in the quiet room. 

Suzuka sighed, "Fine. I’ll take a look. But only because their noise is ruining my meal."

She stood up and walked over to the box. As she peered inside, the hatchlings froze, their tiny eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope.

"What are you all so worked up about?" she muttered, reaching into the box to pluck the dangling hatchling free. Its tiny body was limp in her hand, its breathing shallow. 

"You’re all so fragile. If you keep this up, you’re going to get yourselves killed."

She placed the injured hatchling gently back into the box, her movements surprisingly careful. The others watched her with wide, pleading eyes, their tiny bodies trembling.

"Stay put, you little shits, I’ll get Hermit. He’s better at this than I am."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the hatchlings to their misery. To her, their suffering was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a problem to be dealt with later. But to the hatchlings, her brief attention was a glimmer of hope—a sign that, perhaps, someone out there cared enough to help them.

Suzuka approached Hermit laying curled up in a corner on a makeshift bed of hay and tattered blankets, his thin frame trembling slightly as he clutched Kaka close to his chest.

 Hermit was snoring softly, his arms wrapped tightly around Kaka, his face pressed against his father’s frail chest. Kaka’s eyes were closed, his breathing steady but weak, and his body seemed to sink into the hay beneath him. The sight was pitiful, even to Suzuka, who prided herself on her indifference.

For a moment, she hesitated. She could just leave them be. The hatchlings’ cries were faint, and Hermit looked so... peaceful, for once. But the memory of the bleeding hatchling dangling from the box gnawed at her, and she let out an annoyed sigh. 

She lifted her boot and nudged Hermit’s side.

Hermit convulsed dramatically, his body jerking as if he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes flew open, wide and panicked, and he let out a strangled yelp that echoed through the shed. Kaka, still cradled in his arms, stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open as he let out a weak, raspy groan.

“Wha—?! Who’s there?! Is it the rats?! The rats are back, aren’t they?!” Hermit shouted, his voice hoarse and trembling. He clutched Kaka tighter, his hands shaking as he scanned the room for the imagined threat.

Suzuka whacked him over the head and said, “Relax, you idiot. It’s just me. Though if it had been rats, you’d probably be halfway to the town by now.”

Hermit blinked up at her, his breathing heavy as he tried to calm himself. Kaka, now fully awake, let out a soft, pained whimper, his milky eyes focusing on Suzuka for a moment before closing again. Hermit’s expression softened as he looked down at his father, his hands gently stroking Kaka’s frail body.

“Master Helen? If not rats, what's wrong then?” 

Suzuka crossed her arms over her chest, her sharp gaze flicking between Hermit and Kaka.

 “Yeah, while you were playing nursemaid, the hatchlings decided to throw themselves a little tragedy festival in their box. One of them got stuck in a gap and started bleeding, and now they’re all piled up on top of each other, squealing like they’re being murdered. Any idea why?”

Hermit’s eyes widened in alarm, and he carefully shifted Kaka to the side, propping him up on the hay bed.

 “What?! Master, why didn’t you say something sooner?!” He scrambled to his feet.

“I am saying something. That’s why I woke you up. Though, judging by your reaction, I’m starting to think I should’ve just let them figure it out on their own.”

Hermit shot her a glare, that of a deep hurt, though it was softened by the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“They’re just babies, hatchlings, Master! They don’t know any better! They probably just wanted to explore or... or they got hungry again.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t treat them like they’re made of glass, they’d learn to toughen up. They’re goblins, not porcelain dolls.”

Hermit didn’t respond. Instead, he rushed over to the box, his bare feet slapping against the cold floor. When he reached it, he dropped to his knees and peered inside, his expression shifting from panic to heartbreak as he took in the scene.

The hatchlings were in even worse shape than Suzuka had described. They were huddled together, their tiny eyes wide with fear and pain.