My grandmother only knows how to draw one thing—infants. They're ugly, but people line up to buy the paintings.

I watch as she takes those women into unlit rooms. Then, their bloodcurdling screams will ring out.

Oddly enough, they always thank my grandmother when they're leaving.

One day, I finally find out what exactly my grandmother paints. I discover the truth when I see an infant crawl out of one of the women's bellies—it looks just like the one my grandmother has painted.

"Madam Albright, I want my child to be smart—best if it's a boy." A man with a beer belly sat politely across from Grandma.

She replied, her face devoid of emotions, "It's 100,000 dollars per request."

"Of course. That's understood. Don't worry, Madam Albright."

Grandma pulled a piece of paper toward herself after the man agreed to the deal.

…

Grandma and I only had each other. She would paint every day, though her paintings were mediocre, to say the least.

Her subjects were babies, and every one of them looked alike. It baffled me why the rich would spend a fortune to buy Grandma's paintings.

"It's done." Grandma set her brush on the table. I drew closer to take a look. As expected, it was yet another ugly painting.

"Bring her in." She rose and brought the painting into a room without turning on the lights.

The man hurried out and brought back a pretty young woman with him. He comforted her, "Hey, just go in."

The woman was clearly nervous. However, after being shoved by the man, she reluctantly followed Grandma into the dark room.

Usually, Grandma would chase me out of the room at this point. Being thoughtful, I ran out into the courtyard to play with our dog, Toffee.

All of a sudden, the woman's bloodcurdling scream cut through the air. It gave that man a good shock, but I was unfazed. Every woman who entered the dark room with Grandma would scream at some point.

Toffee was barking at the room. Since it wouldn't play with me, I could only entertain myself.

After my tenth round of playing hopscotch, the sounds from the room finally decreased. Once the woman stopped screaming, Toffee stopped barking, too.

Soon, the pretty young woman emerged from the room, sweaty but smiling. She nodded at the man waiting outside.

After that, they both expressed their thanks to Grandma. The man even tipped.

Once they left, I started pestering Grandma for mac and cheese for dinner. I was too young to notice Grandma bleeding from between her legs.

Ten years had since passed. Grandma continued selling her ugly baby paintings through the decade. Even if she increased the price by tenfold, many still lined up for her service.

However, she recently started to look for an apprentice, saying that she wanted to pass on her skills now that she was getting old.

I volunteered, "Grandma, I could learn painting from you!"

"No way!" Grandma adamantly refused to teach me her baby-painting skills, even though I was already an adult.

She'd always turn me down. "You can't paint! Just focus on your studies!"

Her rejection baffled me.

She said to me in her fifth time recruiting an apprentice within the month, "Sweetie, post the job opening again tomorrow."

She had kicked out every one of her apprentices after a few days.

"Grandma, what about Rachel? Did she fail to learn?" I asked.

"Yeah," Grandma replied noncommittally.

I had no choice but to post the job opening like she had asked.

Soon, someone showed up to apply for the job, which was not surprising because many would give the job a try for the high pay that Grandma offered her apprentices. But Grandma only took in females as her students.

This time, a young woman, Beth Hoffman, got the job. Grandma was satisfied with Beth when she first laid eyes on the latter. Beth stayed with us for half a month before Grandma finally brought her into that dark room.

At the same time, I was chased out to the courtyard.

I didn't hear Beth screaming from that room, but ever since that day, something within her had changed. She was no longer the woman who loved to smile.

And this might be my illusion, but sometimes, I felt that she slowly grew to resemble Grandma.

…

Another couple visited Grandma one day. The balding man was decked in gold chains, looking like a man made of gold from afar.

As usual, the female companion was pretty. She was practically hanging on him.

"Madam Albright, I have too many requests. What do we do?" The man spat out his gum before politely consulting Grandma.

She looked at him before turning to Beth.

Finally, she replied, "Well, if we draw one extra painting for you, that means you'll get one more option."

"Madam Albright, do you mean we could request a few paintings?" His eyes lit up.

Nodding, Grandma stated, "Each extra painting is worth five million dollars."

The balding man waved at her dismissively. "Money is not a problem."

After that, the man rattled off a series of requests, and Grandma painted four paintings for him. This was her first time creating this many paintings at the same time.

In my eyes, they all looked the same except for their expressions and some minute details. However, Beth was keenly observing the paintings from the side as if she knew a lot about it. Sometimes, she would discuss it with Grandma.

"Madam Albright, this child has lovely eyes. The second child has a cute nose. The other two paintings are unique in their own ways."

Beth's remark confused me because I thought the babies all looked the same.

Grandma not only brought the pretty female companion into the dark room, she even led Beth inside.

Only the balding man and I were outside waiting for the three women.

Soon, the young woman screamed from within the room for an unusually long period—to the point I started to grow concerned.

After a while, the screaming finally subsided.

Later, Grandma showed up with the young woman. She was sweating from head to toe but beaming happily.

"How was it?" the balding man asked.

"It's done!" The pretty young woman sneaked into his arms.

The balding man laughed heartily. "Great! It's Madam Albright, after all! I'll pay you another five million dollars as a token of gratitude!"

He generously paid for Grandma's service before leaving with his pretty companion.

Even after all these years, Grandma never failed to surprise me with her ability to make money. With just four average-looking paintings, she made more than ten million dollars, which was very impressive.

That begged another question. Grandma had been nice to me over the years and bought me everything I asked for, but why did we still live in this shabby house in a mountain village?

I had asked Grandma why we hadn't moved out, but she replied to me very sternly that she could never leave this place.

I never dared ask her ever since.

"By the way, where's Beth?" I finally noticed Beth's absence.

Glancing my way, Grandma said, "She's occupied with something. Go buy some herbs from the foot of the mountain."

I took her orders and went down the mountain.

At the store, the storekeeper suddenly inquired, "Darling, has your mom not gotten pregnant after all these years?"

Taken aback, I questioned, "What does that mean?"

"Don't you know? The herbs you often purchase from me are to induce ovulation. They're for those who want to get pregnant!"

My eyes widened in disbelief, as Grandma was the one who had taken these herbs before! But Grandma couldn't have possibly tried for a child.

"Ma'am, there must be a misunderstanding. That's impossible," I remarked with guilt and said no more.

Once I received my herbs, I ran home like I was being chased, worried that someone might find out it was Grandma who was taking the herbs.

This felt so weird, but I dared not ask Grandma about it.

…

A few days later, a couple showed up again. Just like many before them, it was a rich man and a young, pretty woman.

"Madam Albright, I heard from John that you could make a few paintings? May I request two more? I'd like to have options."

Grandma said without looking up, "It's an extra five million dollars per painting."

"Of course. I'll leave it to your good hands."

That day, Grandma made three paintings. She later brought Beth into the dark room. The female client screamed within the room as usual.

Once the two clients left in satisfaction, Grandma sent me off to run some errands again. "Sweetie, get me a bottle of ketchup."

"Okay," I agreed, but I was not dumb.

Grandma must have sent me away because something shady was going on. So, halfway into my trip, I went back quietly.

"I'm curious what Grandma is up to."

I slowly made my way to the house and hid underneath a window. I heard a soft moan from within—it sounded like a woman's.

"A young body is definitely more productive. I was surprised we could offer them four paintings last time. This time, we're doing three," Grandma spoke in a joyful tone.

"M-Madam Albright…"

I heard Beth gasping and moaning in the room.

"I get it. You've worked hard. Don't worry. I'll treat you right. Drink this, and you'll recover soon."

I picked up a familiar herbal smell—it was the herbal concoction that Grandma had previously been taking. The herbs, like the storekeeper had told me, were to induce ovulation.

…

Three days after that, no client showed up at our house. As for Beth, she did not once get out of bed during that time.

Grandma stopped me from entering Beth's bedroom, but I smelled a heavy, metallic tang of blood from that room.

I had no idea how Beth got injured, but from the looks of it, she seemed to be in a bad state because Grandma kept serving the herbal concoction for days.

As a result, we ran out of the herbs in no time. I had to make another trip to buy the same herbs from the store at the foot of the mountain.

Thankfully, the storekeeper did not ask me any questions. Yet, I refrained from meeting her eyes, worried that she might sense something fishy. I scrambled home after getting my hands on the herbs.