Andrea waited outside the door in case they called for her to get something from the kitchen. The children went in one by one. They always screamed; some right away, some quite late in the process. One of them had to be dragged into the room. Andrea felt sick hearing the screams but always felt relief when the children left the room. There was no apparent sign of physical harm on them, aside from the marks of the handcuffs.

When Nóra walked into the room with that subtle smile on her face, Andrea knew right away there was something wrong. She was quickly proven right.

‘Up to what age can you do this?’ Hugó asked his host downstairs, because he had read contradictory information on the internet.

Gergő gave the question some thought.

‘Until twenty-five, give or take. After that you shouldn’t touch the essence. But usually by that time you can’t anyway. You know how it is with young people, they get spoiled way before that. I got spoiled when I was seventeen. My Erzsébet spoiled me. We got married not long after. You know how it is.’

Hugó nodded like someone who knew.

‘You can’t start it too soon either,’ Gergő went on. ‘You can first take it out when they’re seven or eight, sooner than that might cause severe harm.’

Upstairs Mama started shrieking.

Nóra’s face was red where her father had hit her.

‘Who was it?’ he asked Nóra. ‘One of your classmates? That blond one?’

Nóra wiped a tear from her face.

‘Does it matter, Dad?’ she asked, her voice trembling with suppressed rage and exposed fear.

‘Yes, it does, and don’t call me Dad, because the daughter I raised isn’t a slut! And you had to do it now, right before the harvest? With guests around to watch?’

Nóra murmured something under her nose.

‘Louder! So I can hear your excuses!’ Gergő shouted at her.

Nóra hit the table, her face contorting into a mask of anger.

‘If a boy sleeps with someone, you applaud him, you give him drinks and crack jokes. Why is it reserved just for boys? It’s only okay when you fuck?’

Gergő slapped his daughter again.

‘Go to your room and don’t come out until I tell you!’

‘It only works when they’re innocent,’ Gergő said over a beer. ‘If they’ve done it once, no matter how old they are, they’re spoiled. I trusted her too much. Other families check their kids before harvest, you know. The girls, at least. But not me . . . not me . . .’

He buried his face in his palms. ‘We’ll lose one now,’ he sighed. ‘That’s one-seventh of our harvest. A terrible loss . . .’

Hugó’s heart raced; this was his last chance to get close to the farmers in a way few outsiders could.

‘What about Emese?’ he asked. ‘My daughter. Wouldn’t she be good?’

A grateful smile spread across Gergő’s face.