Chapter 66 - 64: The Orphanage in Zagreb

Chapter 66: Chapter 64: The Orphanage in Zagreb

"And that’s the final whistle! Mostar Zrinjski defeats Nemtal, 1-0."

"This was no easy match for Mostar Zrinjski. After losing their tall center forward, Kosopech, they ran into a lot of trouble in the heavy snow. But their tireless running earned them a precious goal, ending their embarrassing three-game winless streak and putting them back at the top of the league table."

"We’re now 20 rounds into the league, and the long winter break is next. This is a time for the teams in the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League to rest and regroup."

"Our broadcast will be back in three months. Until then, folks, a very merry early Christmas to you all!"

With those final words, Basodachi concluded his commentary work for the first half of the season.

And what a half-season it had been for the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League, full of ups and downs.

First, there was Sarajevo pulling far ahead of the pack, followed by Mostar Zrinjski’s consecutive victories.

Currently, Mostar Zrinjski sat at the top of the table with a record of 15-3-2, for a total of 48 points.

Sarajevo followed close behind in second place with a record of 14-4-2 and 46 points, just two points shy of the top spot.

These two were the favorites to win the title.

With the first half of the league season over, the clubs entered their winter break.

After a team meeting that same day, Van Stiake of Mostar Zrinjski dismissed everyone for the holidays.

"Finished packing?"

Suk walked into their dorm room and saw Modric stuffing clothes into a suitcase.

Compared to Suk, who was dressed like a simple backpacker, Modric had a lot more luggage.

He had not only a large suitcase but also two backpacks.

"Almost!" Modric said, patting his luggage.

For the break, both of them planned to return to Croatia.

Modric had been away from home for over a year. Living alone abroad, it was only natural to be homesick.

As for Suk, he had come to Bosnia and Herzegovina when he was thirteen. It had been a full four years since he’d last been back.

Although Suk didn’t have a family home in Croatia, the orphanage that raised him was still a place he cared deeply about.

Besides, the old director, who had painstakingly raised him from a baby, was like a parent to him.

Unlike other orphans who arrived later in life, Suk had grown up in the orphanage since he was a baby, and he had a deep emotional attachment to the place.

Suk couldn’t say he was a household name, but he had achieved a small measure of success. He felt it was time to go back and visit.

...

Their train was at eight in the evening.

The two of them dragged their luggage to the station. They would first take a train to Sarajevo, then catch another one to Zagreb at six the next morning.

The entire journey would take about twenty hours.

It wouldn’t have been so long with a direct train, but the transfers and layovers added a lot of time.

So by the time they arrived in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia, it was already around three in the afternoon.

"We’re finally back!"

Back in Zagreb, Modric looked like a kid returning home, an unstoppable smile plastered on his face.

Suk also looked around. The place had changed quite a bit in the four years since he’d been gone.

The entire train station looked brand new.

Suk remembered that when he left, there were no proper platforms between the tracks. Many people would just duck under the trains to save time.

The square outside the station exit, which had been filled with craters of all sizes and the ruined buildings left over from the war, had been completely cleared away.

"It’s changed so much!"

Suk sighed, taking in the surrounding scenery.

If it weren’t for the ugly statue in the middle of the square commemorating the declaration of Croatian independence, he might have thought he’d come to the wrong place.

"How are you getting home?"

Suk turned and asked.

Modric replied, "My parents are here to pick me up."

Suk nodded and pointed to the right side of the square. "I’m going over there to catch the number 9 bus!"

With that, Suk gave Modric the orphanage’s phone number, telling him to call if he needed anything, then slung his bag over his shoulder and left.

The number 9 bus ran to the outer suburbs, crossing the entire downtown area of Zagreb.

Once he was here, Suk was on very familiar ground.

He paid his fare, got on, found a seat, and sat there hugging his backpack, gazing at the scenery outside.

The winter sun was bright and warm.

The city was also extremely clean and tidy. If it weren’t for the occasional abandoned building or crater serving as a reminder, Suk would have felt as if the city had completely forgotten its past.

Suk squinted slightly, feeling the light of the setting sun wash over him, making him feel a little lazy.

Perhaps because those years of war and smoke had been so brutal, Suk cherished this calm and peaceful atmosphere.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but his surroundings grew more and more familiar.

The familiar two-story buildings, the familiar streets, the familiar smells...

BEEP BEEP!

The bus honked as it drove away. Suk stood at the bus stop, looking toward a cross in the distance.

Beneath the red cross was the orphanage, the place where he had grown up.

He followed the familiar road, made a few turns through the alleys, and arrived at an iron gate.

The gate was loosely fastened with a chain; a firm pull was enough to create a gap for one person to slip through.

Suk squeezed through the gap. Under his feet was a narrow, winding stone path, flanked by lush green lawns that were neatly and impeccably trimmed.

He followed the path to an entrance, pulled open the door, and went inside.

This was the interior of the orphanage.

A straight hallway led directly to a staircase. The whole orphanage was three stories tall.

The first floor was for prayers and meals.

The second floor was mostly bedrooms.

The third floor was the old director’s private quarters.

Suk walked to a door and peeked through the crack. He saw a group of little kids sitting neatly around a long table.

In front of them were plates with bread, milk, vegetables, and other food.

But none of the children were eating. Instead, they all sat upright, hands clasped under their chins in prayer.

At the head of the long table sat an elderly man with a full head of white hair.

The old man was dressed as a priest and had a kind, gentle face.

He said softly, "We thank the Lord for the food he has given us..."

"We thank the Lord for the food he has given us."

The children below repeated every line the old man said.

And when he finished the last line, he made the sign of the cross on his chest.

"Amen!"

"Amen!"

Suk stood outside the door, a smile on his face. He quietly made the sign of the cross, then suddenly pushed the door open.

"I’m hoooome!—"

The old director and the children jumped in fright.

They stared at the unexpected visitor at the door, their faces filled with alarm.

But the old director quickly recognized him.

"Suk?"

The old director’s voice was filled with surprise, but it quickly turned to anger. "You didn’t say your prayers properly! Today is Sunday!"

"I already gave thanks. Can we eat now?"

Suk walked in casually, grabbed a piece of bread, dipped it in honey, and began eating with relish, much to the envy of a chubby little orphan.

"Life’s gotten pretty good! You’ve even got honey, and soup too!"

Suk swallowed the bread and said to the old director with a smile,

"I’m back!"

The anger on the old director’s face slowly faded. He bowed his head and said a quick prayer before speaking softly, "It’s good to have you back."

「On the third floor, in the old director’s bedroom.」

The old director sat in a chair, while Suk sat cross-legged on the floor beside him.

"I’m tearing it up in the Bosnia and Herzegovina League. I’m a famous prodigy there now! You know Bosschenoqi? One of the Croatian National Team Players? I totally crushed him!" Suk said, puffing out his chest. "Don’t you worry, old man. I’ll take care of you when you retire."

The old director watched Suk with a smile, nodding from time to time.

He didn’t say anything, just listened intently.

Suk only talked about the good things, not mentioning a word about the times he couldn’t even afford to eat properly.

But what Suk didn’t know was that Kovic had already spilled all the beans about his struggles when he sent money to the orphanage.

The old director placed a bony hand on Suk’s head and said gently, "My child, all of you are children blessed by the Lord. You will all find happiness."

Suk nodded immediately.

He scrambled up from the floor and pointed outside. "Are those kids all new?"

The old director’s expression immediately grew stern. "Don’t you bully them."

"How old do you think I am? I’m not going to pick on little kids," Suk said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He then asked, "What about the others from our group?"

The old director nodded. "Locke went to the United Kingdom, Vini went to Seville, you went to Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Di Camoqi stayed here to become a trainee priest."

"Di Camoqi is a trainee priest?" Suk asked, surprised. "I remember his dream was to be a singer."

Di Camoqi had a God-given voice. Every Christmas was practically his own personal concert.

And you had to admit, the guy could really sing.

But Suk never expected that four years later, his friend would have become a trainee priest.

"I’m very pleased," the old director said with a smile. "I already called Di Camoqi. He was thrilled to hear you were back and is on his way over now."

Speak of the devil!

With a BANG, a pale-faced young man about 175 centimeters tall, dressed in the robes of a trainee priest, burst into the old director’s room.

"Suk!"

Di Camoqi cried out in delight when he saw Suk.

"Di Camoqi!" the old director said sternly. "Compose yourself!"

Only then did Di Camoqi take a deep breath, bow slightly to the old director, and then turn to Suk. "Brother, let’s not disturb the old director’s rest. We can talk outside..."

He said the words, but he was so excited his eyelids were practically twitching.

Suk was also overjoyed. He turned to say goodbye,

"We’re leaving, old man!"

"Get to bed early tonight," the old director said.

Di Camoqi, who was standing to the side, added, "I’ll get a room ready for him."

With that, the two eagerly left the old director’s room.

Watching their retreating figures, a smile appeared on the old director’s face.