Chapter 582: Wendy (1)
“Awaaawaaaaa-!!!”
“Awaaawaaa-!!”
“Awa! Awa! Awa!”
The forest of Hanging Trees in Neverland. Loud, exuberant cries echoed through the air.
The source of the ruckus was none other than Pan’s children, cloaked in their animal capes. The children were waving sticks, wooden guns, toy swords, popguns, and slingshots, shouting victorious cheers.
Their reason for this uproar? They had triumphed in a mock battle against the Redskins’ camp.
Hearing the noise from afar, Jane let out a sigh of relief, placing her hands on her hips.
“Whew… I made it just in time.”
In front of Jane was a table—or more precisely, a table loaded with an assortment of food.
There was chicken, ham pie, potato salad, grilled sausages of various kinds, black pudding, sardine pie, roast beef, lamb, bacon, haggis, pancakes, toasted sandwiches, jellied eels, gravy, buttered corn, vegetable salad, and more.
The table was piled so high with food that its legs threatened to buckle under the weight. Astonishingly, Jane had prepared all this herself.
Cooking was one of Jane’s hidden talents, though she rarely had the chance to show it off.
The scent had reached the children even from afar, and they soon abandoned boasting about their feats in the mock battle, sprinting eagerly toward the table.
“But I was the real hero this time! If it weren’t for me—uh?”
“What a delicious smell!”
“I’m going to be first!”
“No way! I’m first!”
As the children drew closer, Jane stood firmly with her back to the table, watching them through a doorway as they poured into the room.
There were six of Pan’s children in total: Curly, Slyley, Nibs, the Twins, and Tootles, each wearing animal-themed capes—bear, fox, rabbit, raccoon, and skunk.
Screeeeeech!
The children, mouths watering as they ran over, were suddenly blocked by Jane, who held out one hand, apron-clad, and stopped them in their tracks. They stumbled to a halt, colliding with each other.
“Ow! Why did we stop?”
“You made me fall!”
“Quiet. I didn’t stop on purpose!”
“Why are you getting mad?!”
“Yeah! That’s right!”
The children, caught up in their sudden stop, began bickering and making a racket.
Clap! Clap!
Then, Jane clapped her hands twice, speaking firmly.
“What do we do when we come back?”
“We wash our hands!”
“That’s right. So you all know what you need to do, right?”
With one hand on her hip and the other index finger raised, Jane captured their attention.
The children glanced over at the spread of food behind Jane and asked, “Can’t we eat first and wash up after? We’re starving!”
“Yeah, yeah!”
“I think it’d be more efficient to eat first since our hands will get messy anyway.”
Pan’s children made their case, nodding vigorously, their clever tone amusing yet stubborn as they insisted on eating right away.
It was a scene that perfectly captured their childlike nature. But Jane was unwavering.
“No. Absolutely not. The very first rule in this house is to wash your hands when you come inside.”
“But in Neverland, we can do anything we want! The Leader said so.”
“Then, start by washing your hands. I made handwashing the rule here.”
Jane playfully twisted her words. Although a careful listener could spot the flaw in her reasoning, the children, being children, were stunned and couldn’t find a response.
Seizing the moment, Jane pulled out a “carrot.”
“If you don’t wash up, you won’t get any of the special chocolate cake I made for today.”
“Chocolate cake?!”
“Yes, chocolate cake. A cake so sweet it’ll practically rot your teeth with just one bite. If you don’t want any, you don’t have to wash your hands. Such a pity—it’s incredibly delicious.”
“No! No! We’ll wash up!”
“Me too! Me too!”
“Thinking it over, it’s more hygienic to wash up before a meal anyway—”
“—Move! I need to wash my hands!”
Pan’s children scrambled to the washroom, eager for the chocolate cake. When they returned, Jane inspected their hands, then nodded approvingly.
“Alright, let’s eat.”
“Yaaaaaay!”
With her approval, the children climbed up onto their chairs, gobbling up the food voraciously.
One tore into a chicken drumstick with both hands, another lifted an entire pie, chomping down, while some even drank the gravy straight from the bowl.
No matter how generous one was, their table manners could hardly be called refined.
However, Jane made no remarks about it.
Because, compared to before, this was an improvement.
‘At least they’re not throwing food at each other during meals now, right?’
Jane closed her eyes briefly, recalling the time she’d first banned food fights. Although it wasn’t long ago, it felt like an eternity and had been quite a struggle.
She could now understand why the Wendy she’d first met here seemed perpetually exhausted.
Tap. Tap.
Someone tugged on Jane’s sleeve as she mused.
It was Tootles, clad in a skunk cape.
“Eat with us too, Wendy.”
“Yes! Wendy, join us too!”
“A meal is traditionally meant to be enjoyed together—”
“—Quiet.”
The children looked up at her expectantly. Wendy smiled.
“I’ll join you after you eat some of the vegetable salad too.”
“Huh?”
“‘Huh?’ isn’t the right answer. Truly brave kids know how to eat their vegetables. Or… are you all cowards?”
It was an obvious fib, but as Jane playfully tapped their noses, the children believed her, emptying their salads to prove themselves the bravest.
Watching this, Jane took her seat at the table as promised, and the children excitedly began recounting the day’s events.
They spoke of their heroics in the mock battle at the Redskin camp and ridiculed anyone who’d acted foolishly.
“I hit the leader right on the forehead with my slingshot!”
“What are you talking about! Before that, I struck the chief’s horse! So I’m the real hero!”
“Hah! If you’re leaving me out, you—”
“—Shut up!”
“You little—!”
As the children started another argument, Jane, seated with them, expertly calmed them down and had them share their stories one at a time.
They each recounted their day in detail, and Jane listened attentively, responding with praise and admiration, marveling at their tales.
What the children truly needed was this kind of attention—validation that they were worth noticing.
Having grown up in the Sisterhood, Jane understood this need better than anyone.
‘And it’s also a way to gather information about this place.’
Jane sifted through the children’s rambling tales as if panning for gold in the dirt, carefully gleaning every useful piece of information.
Seeing Jane’s attentive reactions pleased the children, and they eagerly shared even more.
They talked not only about today’s game but also of places like where to find delicious chocolate coins buried, the lagoon where mermaids lived, the cove of cannibals, and the foolish pirates who occasionally sought these locations.
Each time Jane listened as though hearing the stories for the first time, gathering tidbits of knowledge piece by piece.
While she couldn’t escape alone, simply doing nothing didn’t sit well with her.
And so, while the children chattered away and Jane collected information, the entire meal laid out on the table slowly disappeared.
“Cake! Cake! Cake!”
“Cake! Cake! Cake!”
“Cake! Cake! Cake!”
Once the meal ended, the children chanted for the chocolate cake, and Jane brought out the large cake she had prepared, setting candles atop it.
“I’m blowing them out!”
“But it’s not your birthday!”
“Like you have a birthday today!”
“Yes, I do! Today’s my birthday!”
“Stop lying!”
“Who’s lying now?”
The children started arguing over who would blow out the candles on the cake.
Clap! Clap!
Jane clapped her hands twice.
“Everyone can blow out the candles together, so stop fighting. Fighting in front of a cake is just wrong.”
Though her words didn’t make much logical sense, the sight of the massive chocolate cake seemed to sway the children, who nodded solemnly.
“Will you blow them out too, Wendy?”
“Of course. Once we blow out the candles together, I’ll even tell you a story while we eat the cake. What do you want to hear today?”
Jane lowered herself to their eye level, asking with a gentle smile, and the children, as if they’d never argued at all, whispered amongst themselves before speaking up in unison.
“Tell us a story about mothers!”
The children, eyes wide with excitement, looked at her.
In response, Jane paused briefly, so quickly that no one noticed, before replying.
“Of course, I’ll tell you. Now, let’s all blow out the candles together…”
...
After a rowdy dinner, once everyone had gone to bed, Jane used some food she had set aside in the kitchen to make sandwiches.
There were thirty-seven sandwiches in total.
Jane wrapped each of them, identical in ingredients, and packed them along with some drinks, then carried everything outside, bundled up in a tablecloth.
Eerie whispers filled the air as she moved through the Forest of the Hanged under the cover of night.
It was hard to tell if the sounds were from the wind, the fairies the children spoke of, or perhaps the voices of those hanging from the trees. However, Jane reminded herself that, though unnerving, these noises posed no real danger as she made her way toward the "Forgotten Shed."
Fortunately, the Forgotten Shed wasn’t far; it was tucked away on the very edge of the cliff at one end of the Hanging Trees, the spade-shaped corner of Neverland.
Sure enough, as Jane emerged from the trees, she saw a run-down shed standing desolate on the cliffside, overgrown with weeds and dust, as though abandoned for decades.
Jane approached and knocked gently on the shed door.
While most doors opened from the outside, the Forgotten Shed was the opposite—a product of Pan’s confidence that no one would be daring enough to visit uninvited.
After a few moments, the sounds of shuffling came from inside, and the door creaked open to reveal a group of children. They were bedraggled, covered in grime.
These were the “Forgotten Children,” substitutes intended to take the places of Curly, Slyley, Nibs, the Twins, and Tootles should anything happen to them.
As Jane looked at the thirty-seven children, each with similar builds and appearances to Pan’s children, memories of her own past surfaced, reminding her of the Sisterhood, where children were raised as two-legged livestock, each carefully cultivated for specific roles.
For a moment, her eyes grew distant.
“...”
“Are... are you alright?”
The children, noticing Jane’s silence, nervously asked, fearing they’d done something wrong.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Jane reassured the frightened children, then entered the shed and began handing out sandwiches.
The Forgotten Children of Neverland, given only oatmeal rations barely worthy of being called food, gratefully took the sandwiches and devoured them.
“Here, drink this, so you don’t choke,” she said, offering drinks to those who were overeager and had started choking on their food.
Smiling, the children thanked Jane, but beneath her returned smile lay a pang of guilt.
For Jane’s kindness wasn’t purely out of goodwill.
One of the children, having finished their food, brought over a crumpled piece of discolored paper from a dusty corner.
The paper bore faded writing.
Jane took it and read the words on the worn-out sheet:
"…Mother hit me again today. She says, despite being born of noble blood, my conduct is unworthy. I feel wronged. There’s no way to avoid getting dirty when cleaning chimneys… Winter’s here, and though I’m freezing, Mother poured water over me, telling me to wash…"
"Mother slapped me. She was furious when I told her that I had fought with those of lower birth. But I was the one who got hit. When I told her, crying, she struck me again, saying, ‘How could you be hit by such lowly people when you’re of royal blood?’ I truly…”
"Mother grew angry again, saying I was being lazy. But I wasn’t…"
"Mother grew furious again…"
"Mother…”
"I truly hate that woman…”
Jane folded the paper, closing her eyes briefly.
It felt as though the words were wrung directly from the writer’s heart, the ink infused with raw emotion, not merely words.
“Haaa…”
However, lost in thought was a luxury she couldn’t afford in captivity.
Jane took a deep breath, composed herself, and then opened a small box hidden in the corner of the Forgotten Shed.
Inside were other pieces of paper similar to the one she had just read. She carefully placed this one with the rest and closed the box.
With a soft click, the box shut.
Looking around, she saw the children, having finished their sandwiches, watching her with expectant looks, fingers fidgeting.
Recalling the Sisterhood’s teachings, Jane flashed them a reassuring smile.
"The most powerful weapon a woman has is her smile, her appearance, and her manners. These will protect you,” she’d been told.
Following that lesson, she put on her sweetest voice.
“What is it, everyone?”
One child stepped forward as their representative, asking shyly, “Um, um… can we also… have some cake…?”
“Ah…”
Inwardly, Jane sighed.
For the Forgotten Children, the only entertainment available was watching Pan’s children play outside.
This way, whenever one of Pan’s main children was lost, there’d be another ready to step seamlessly into the role of Curly, Slyley, Nibs, the Twins, or Tootles.
It was disturbingly similar to the way the Sisterhood raised children—instilling envy and competition to encourage them to fulfill their assigned roles without question.
Although the method disgusted her, Jane kept her smile outwardly pleasant.
“Of course. Next time, I’ll bring both sandwiches and cake. I promise.”
Crouching down, she met their eyes, holding out her pinky finger to make a secret promise with each of them.
The children beamed, delighted by the simple gesture. Jane checked the time in her mind, then spoke.
“For tonight, I’ll tell you a story instead. What would you like to hear?”
“A, a story about mothers… like you told the others…”
The Forgotten Children spoke up timidly, averting their eyes.
Jane hesitated for only a fraction of a second before she responded.
“Alright. Gather around. I’ll tell you a story about mothers.”
...
After weaving a tale filled with beauty and fabricated kindness about mothers, Jane tucked each child into bed, then gently rose and made her way to the shed door.
The melancholy from telling such a sweet, false story about mothers washed over her, leaving her feeling oddly empty.
She’d thought such emotions had vanished long ago.
But before she could fully sink into this introspection, a voice pulled her back to reality.
“I thought I told you not to come here?”
It was the eternal child, Pan.