Khael stood before a massive steel gate, surrounded by towering walls. It sat a short distance from the main road, connected by a narrow concrete path. Unlike the busy road, this area was empty. The faint sound of honking cars still reached his ears, but the place felt calm.

To the left of the main gate was a smaller one. Khael tested the handle and found it unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside. Ahead, a tiled path stretched straight toward a large building in the distance.

Before the building was a vast playground, divided in two by the path. Children, no older than ten and as young as three, ran about everywhere. Their laughter filled the air, and a few middle-aged women in black and white outfits played along with them.

It was unmistakably an orphanage, though Khael didn’t care. He was here for a different purpose.

As he took a step forward, a boy—probably six years old—ran into him and fell back onto the ground. The child quickly apologized and looked up, meeting Khael’s gaze. Khael stared down at him with a blank, lifeless expression, draining every ounce of confidence from the boy’s face.

“S-sorry—”

“What's your name?” Khael's tone was dull and dry, as if there was no interest in the question. It sounded more like an order than a question to the kid, and the feeling of it made his little body tremble. His big eyes started to well up with tears.

“I didn't mean to do that. The boy's voice broke into a cry as he mumbled, "I don't want to d-die.” He turned and fled without waiting for an answer.

“???” Khael stood motionless, confused at his reaction. He had tried his best to sound approachable, but his cracked, dry voice, strained by thirst, made him sound anything but friendly.

“You should be playful with the children,” a calm, warm voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see one of the women in black-and-white attire approaching, a soft smile on her face. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, her posture as composed as her tone.

Khael cleared his throat, coughing lightly as he attempted to fix his voice.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said, his tone steadying. “Is there a girl named Charlotte here?”

“Do you know her?”

“Nope. I only know her name. Chief told me to meet her.”

“By ‘Chief,’ do you mean–”

“Lyra Wells,” Khael replied, cutting her off before she could finish.

The woman’s expression brightened with recognition. “Ahhh, so you’re the cheeky monkey she always talked about,” she said, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“The what?”

She chuckled softly. “I apologize. That’s what Madam always called you. She also mentioned another person like you. Where is Madam? Is she busy?”

Khael’s face remained calm as he replied, “She died.”

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh… I’m so sorry,” After a brief pause, she recovered, offering a gentle smile. “Ms. Charlotte is upstairs. Go to the third room on the right, and you’ll find her there.”

Without waiting for any further exchange, Khael nodded and turned to head upstairs. The building ahead was massive, designed like a modern house. It was much larger than he’d expected, each corner seeming to stretch further than the last.

As he entered through the door, another child—probably around five years old—bumped into him as he made his way down the hall. The little boy looked up at Khael’s face, wide-eyed and startled.

Unlike the last time, Khael didn’t want to frighten the child. He reminded himself of the woman’s words to be more approachable. So, he tried to soften his tone.

“Watch where you’re going.”

He expected the child to smile or maybe just nod, thinking he had done a good job. But as soon as he looked down, he saw the boy’s eyes filling with tears, his small body trembling in fear.

To the child, Khael probably sounded like a figure from one of those dark fairy tales—the kind of villain that haunted nightmares. The boy didn’t say a word; instead, he turned and bolted past Khael, rushing outside and away from him.

“I hate kids.” His words were laced with frustration as he made his way up the stairs.

When he reached the upper floor, a long hallway stretched out before him, with doors lining both sides. It was quiet compared to the lively noise from downstairs. He recalled the woman’s instructions and turned to his right.

“One… two… three…” he counted under his breath, stopping in front of the third door.

He reached out and pushed the door open slightly, leaning to take a quick peek inside. No sound, not even a murmur or a trace of movement. Deciding there was no use in waiting, he pushed the door open completely. The room's interior was fully revealed as the hinges creaked a little.

A tiny bed tucked away in one corner of the cozy room. Books with aged covers were piled high on a tall shelf that was leaning against the wall. A wooden table and chair sat by the window, which was littered with pieces of paper, crayons, and pencils. Other small details, like an orange rug in the middle of the room and a plush animal resting against the bedpost, gave it the particular appeal of a child's room.

A young girl lay on her stomach on the floor, absorbed in her drawings. She was holding a crayon firmly in her small hand as a sheet of paper was laid out in front of her. Her palm hovered over the page as she paused at the creak of the door opening. She looked back slowly and watched Khael for a moment.

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“Hello,” Khael murmured in as regular a voice as he could manage, raising his hand in a little wave.

She didn’t respond, acting as though he wasn’t even there, and instead returned to her drawing with the same focus. With a hint of annoyance, Khael entered the room. He leaned down a little as he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder to see what she was working on.

The drawing consisted of mismatched colors and shaky lines—a house, some stick figures, and a sun that looked more like a splattered egg.

“Your drawing sucks.” Khael tilted his head and said bluntly.

The girl didn’t even flinch. She simply reached for another crayon and continued coloring as though his words had evaporated into thin air. Khael was only more irritated by this.

“Aren’t you worried that some random stranger just walked into your room?” Khael asked, his voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Silence.

Khael circled around her, trying to draw her attention, but she remained unfazed. Normally, he couldn’t care less if someone ignored him, but this time, her complete indifference stung his pride.

With a sigh of defeat, he sat down on the floor beside her, crossing his legs and fixing his gaze on her. If she wanted to ignore him, fine. He’d stare at her until she got uncomfortable. Surely, no one could resist for long under such scrutiny—or so he thought.

Barely a minute passed before boredom won over. He reached down, grabbed a stray crayon from the mess on the floor, and began dragging it across a blank sheet of paper.

At first, it was aimless, just lines and random shapes. But soon, he found himself caught up in it, switching crayons and layering colors. The minutes slipped by, and Khael became more focused, adding details and refining his masterpiece.

When he finally dropped the crayon onto the floor, he leaned back to admire his work. His creation was… similar to the girl’s earlier drawing: houses, a road, a sun that still looked like a fried egg, and stick figures. The difference was that his drawing had a bit more detail—a tree here, a window there. He felt proud.

His confidence increased as he looked at the girl. He had already declared himself as the winner of this unspoken competition in his head.

But his smugness disappeared when he looked at her drawing. She had stopped painting at some point and was now observing him with her chin resting on her hand. In front of her was her own picture, which was different from the simple stick figures from before. Her sketch had become far more sophisticated, with characters that looked like real people, a house with finely painted details, and a sun that glowed with warmth rather than breakfast.

Compared to hers, Khael’s drawing looked like the work of a kindergartener.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Khael exclaimed, raising his hand in outrage.

“Hmph!” The girl turned her head with a dismissive huff. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I was sent here to kidnap you,” Khael said with a straight face.

“Can you be serious?” she shot back, clearly unimpressed.

“Alright, alright,” Khael said, leaning back slightly. “Someone important told me to check in on you.”

That got her attention. She paused, her crayon hovering over the paper. “Who?” she asked quietly, her tone cautious.

“Chief,” Khael replied simply.

“Chief who?”

“Chief.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who is ‘Chief’?”

“She is a demon straight out of hell, I swear. A devil in human skin. The kind of person who didn’t just step out of hell—she probably built the place. She was the kind of person you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. Every day was a nightmare where she treated us like her personal slaves–”

“Just say her name already,”

“Right, what was her name again… uh, Lyra Wells.”

The girl stopped mid-stroke, her hand still on the paper. She looked up at him briefly, then back down at her drawing. “So, Mom is a demon, huh? I wouldn’t disagree,” she said casually, adding more details to her painting.

“Right, your mom was a demo—wait, MOM?” His voice screamed in shock. He observed her face closely as he leaned forward. “What is your age?”

“Four,” she answered flatly.

“Let’s see… 26… 25… 24… she became a mom at 22??”

“What’s so surprising about that?” the girl asked, not even lifting her head.

Khael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No wonder she acted like a mother sometimes…” he murmured to himself.

“Leave,” she said suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“I said leave,” she repeated, her voice louder this time.

“Eh? Why should I?” Khael crossed his arms.

“…”

“On the other hand, It’s getting pretty late. I also have some work…” Khael stood up, brushing himself off. “Ah, right, your mother sent you a message.”

“…”

“She went to the sun, so she might come back pretty—”

“Just say she’s dead,” the girl cut him off sharply, not bothering to look up.

Khael froze, dumbfounded. “No, she went to—”

“Don’t lie to me!” she yelled.

He stood there in silence for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, fine. But aren’t you… sad?”

“Why would I be? Everyone dies. She would’ve died today or tomorrow anyway.”

Uncertain of what to do, Khael stood there. The girl's crayon sound broke the quiet as she focused on her sketching. He watched her, feeling strangely trapped, as if he had missed something he couldn't explain, and she didn't glance at him again.

What kind of kid reacts like that?

However, a soft, nearly inaudible sound shattered the silence before he could think any further. It was faint, but unmistakable—a muffled sob. His eyes narrowed on her tiny figure.

“Are you crying?”

“No!” She shouted in a tone that exposed her despite her best efforts to sound stern. Her voice cracked. Her sketched lines were blurred when two tears dropped onto the paper in front of her.

Khael was unsure about what to do. He wasn't good at this and wasn't the type of person who handled tears. Before he could second-guess himself, he bent down and scooped her up.

“Put me down!” she yelled, kicking her legs and thrashing against him.

Khael sat down on the floor with her in his arms.

“There, there,” he patted lightly on her head.

“Let me go!” Her small fists hit against his chest, weak but persistent.

“Just cry already!” Khael yelled back.

She growled at first, but slowly gave up. Her small hands clutched at his shirt now, no longer pushing him away but holding onto him. Her face buried itself in his chest, tears soaking into his clothes as her body trembled with every broken cry.

She cried without holding back.

“I t-told her n-not to go…” she sobbed, her words muffled against his chest. “N-nf of this w-would’ve h-hppened if she l-lis’ned t’ me,”

“Yeah, yeah,”

“I hate her”

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

Time passed, the room growing quiet save for the girl’s soft sniffles. Eventually, her breathing slowed, and the tension in her small frame eased. Khael glanced down and realized she had fallen asleep, her tear-streaked face pressed against his chest.

He stood carefully, holding her close to him. He walked to the little bed in the corner, stepping over the papers and crayons that were all over the floor. He laid her down gently, covering her with the thin blanket. Without giving the room another look, he walked out.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he noticed the woman from earlier standing nearby. She greeted him with a polite smile, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

“You’re a good big brother,” she said softly.

Khael frowned. “I’m not her brother.”

The woman chuckled lightly, her tone warm. “Maybe not, but you certainly act like one. She seems to trust you already.”

Khael scoffed, leaning against the wall with a bored expression. “Nah, It’s such a pain. I hate kids.”

“Even so, you stayed with her. That says a lot.”

He crossed his arms, avoiding her gaze. “If she wakes up and starts crying again, she’s your problem.”

“I have never seen her cry once. You won’t have to worry.”

Khael rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall, heading toward the stairs. “Whatever. I’m off.”

“Then, we’ll see each other next time.”

“Not happening.”

Khael waved his hand. The woman's face was a mixture of gratitude and smiles as she watched him go.