Akira quietly followed behind as the man in the suit held young Charles by the hand.
"Charles can't see or hear me. The faces of the people were vivid just moments ago, but now they blur with every step. If I stand in their way, they simply pass through me as if I'm not here. My guess? Either I'm inside his mind, or this is some kind of illusion. And whenever I try to stop following, something pushes me forward. For now, I'll comply."
"So, what's your name?" the man asked, his eyes fixed on the boy.
"I… I don't remember," young Charles replied, coughing as he spoke.
Concern shadowed the man's face. "What about friends? Do you remember them?"
Charles shook his head. "I can't remember."
"What's the earliest thing you do remember?" the man pressed gently.
Charles hesitated before answering. "Waking up in a ditch… with other dead, rotting people."
The man's expression darkened. "That's terrible. Then… I'll give you a name. I'll call you Charles."
"Ch… Charles? Why that name?" the boy asked, his eyes flicking up, then down, then up again.
The man sighed, gazing into the distance. "It was the name of an old friend."
"What about your name?" Charles asked.
"My name?" The man blinked as if caught off guard. "Ah… it's Morvain."
Charles repeated it softly, testing it on his tongue. "Morvain… I like it. I want it."
Morvain shook his head. "No. Charles suits you better. My name only carries problems."
"But if it brings problems, why don't you change it?"
A faint smile tugged at Morvain's lips. "Because I'm proud of it. You're a smart kid… Listen, I run an orphanage. A place where children like you can stay—make friends, eat well, sleep safely. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Charles?"
"Yes," Charles said with a small nod.
"Good. Then let me give you some advice," Morvain continued.
"Advice?"
"Never take the hand of just anyone who offers one. Many people aren't good."
"Then… how do I know who's bad?" Charles asked.
Morvain smiled faintly. "That's a lesson for later."
Just then, a growl rumbled from the boy's stomach.
Morvain stopped walking and glanced at him. "It seems you haven't eaten in a while. Come—let's get you something to eat."
To Charles, the day felt endless, each step heavier than the last. When darkness finally fell, he clung to Morvain's hand. But then the screams came—echoes of slaughter, ringing louder with every step. Charles pressed his free hand against his ears, trembling, his grip on Morvain tightening like a lifeline.
"Charles!" Morvain's voice cut through the terror. The boy's wide eyes lifted to him, like a lost puppy searching for safety.
"We're here," Morvain said softly, gesturing ahead. Through the haze, Charles finally saw it—the orphanage. A great home glowing with lantern light and alive with voices. The sight alone loosened the knot in his chest.
"Mr. Morvain?! Mr. Morvain?!" Five children rushed to him, circling with joy. Charles lingered quietly at the edge, watching.
"How was your day?" Morvain asked, kneeling slightly to meet their eyes.
The oldest, a little Black girl, stepped forward with a proud smile. "We did our best to clean the house while you were away… looking for work, so you can keep providing for us."
"Oh, they're so cute," Akira thought, standing beside little Charles in silent witness. Then his gaze shifted to the boy's face—eyes lifeless, expression hollow. All I feel from him is pain, anger, Confusion, loneliness… and grief. From someone so young.
"Ah—let me introduce you all to a new addition to the family," Morvain said, nodding toward Charles.
The children froze for a second, then swarmed him, circling the boy.
"What's your name?" "Where are you from?" "Why are you so skinny?" "Why are you so quiet?" "Why do you reek?" "How do you know Mr. Morvain?" Questions flew at him from every direction.
The noise stacked until it blurred. Charles curled into himself on the floor, breath coming shallow and fast, the children's voices folding into a single, numbing roar. He pressed his hands over his ears as if to stop the sound from grinding him apart.
"That's enough," Morvain said, his tone soft but carried. The children obeyed at once, heads bobbing. "Let's give Charles a little slack—he must be very tired."
"Okay," they chorused, and fell suddenly silent.
Morvain reached down, scooped Charles into his arms and headed for the stairs. "Come—let's get you cleaned up. Luke, fetch some spare clothes for Charles, will you?"
In the small washroom, Morvain carefully helped Charles undress and wash. As he scrubbed, his fingers found the scars—thin ragged lines and deeper gouges, some shaped like daggers that had both pierced and torn. Morvain's face shifted: fury, heartbreak, something like disbelief.
"My God…" he breathed.
Akira, standing back in the corner, watched with a sour mix of disgust and pity. What kind of monster does that to a child? he thought.
Charles turned his head and saw a single tear on Morvain's cheek. He blinked, small and surprised. "Is… is anything wrong with me?" he asked in a thin voice.
"Nothing at all," Morvain answered too quickly, wiping the tear away with an awkward smile. "You're perfectly fine."
Later, the children gathered on the floor in a loose ring. Morvain sat in the chair, and the oldest girl — a little Black girl with a blunt bob — raised her hand.
"Yes, Diana?" Morvain asked.
"Can you tell us the story of Dracula?" she pleaded.
"Again?" Morvain feigned exasperation, but there was warmth in it. "You lot really like that one."
"Yesss!" they squealed.
Charles came down the stairs, cleaned and in fresh clothes. Diana scooted over and tapped the space beside her. "Charles, you're just in time. Come sit!"
Morvain settled back and began, voice low and steady. "Long ago — whether he was the son of the devil or a fallen angel — there was the first vampire. A man so powerful the elders' magic felt like ants beneath him. He was shunned by elves, fairies… by anyone who feared what he was. So he carved out his own realm — the Crimson Dominion — and, for his amusement, created two beings of the same blood: male and female, the so-called Horns of Dracula. They turned others into vampires, and the Elders rose from that bloodline. They built a civilization. Yet he still searched for something, so he returned to Earth with his Horns, leaving the realm to the Elders. The people there betrayed him. He faced two Sorcerer Supremes and nearly every sorcerer on Earth. He slaughtered many, but was finally defeated — killed or sealed — by the last man standing, Val Hellsing, who cast him into the deep and into silence."
"Why didn't the Horns help?" Charles interrupted, curious.
Morvain's mouth twitched into a smirk. "We'll never know. Some say betrayal; others say they were unable to intervene."
The question went unanswered—the children had already drifted, one by one, their soft snores filling the room as they collapsed on one another.
Morvain rose gently and began carrying them to their beds. He laid Charles on the last empty pallet, settling down beside him. He brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead, voice a whisper: "You're a miracle, Charles. Scars like ribbons and a body that should have died… Fate isn't done with you yet." He patted the boy's head with a tenderness that felt almost like confession.
Then—BAM BAM BAM—heavy knocks rattled the front door.
"Morvain, come out already!" a voice called.
Akira's eyes narrowed. What kind of sicko knocks like that at this hour? he thought as Morvain sighed and rose.
Morvain opened the door. Three men waited on the stoop, leaning like they belonged to another life. "Can't you keep it down?" Morvain asked tight-lipped. "I have children inside."
"If it isn't the great Morvain," the man in the middle sneered. "Who'd have thought you'd start an orphanage."
"This isn't you. Come back with us—let's have fun like before," the one on the left trilled.
"Fun?" Morvain's voice sharpened, fury flickering through. "You mean doing the Elders' dirty work for coins?"
"So what if we got paid?" the man on the right shrugged.
"I didn't end families for money," Morvain snapped. "I was brainwashed into it once. I won't be your tool now." He turned to go inside, but the middle man grabbed his shoulder and laughed. "Come on, you're running this orphanage as a secret farm. We'll be your first customers."
In a heartbeat Morvain's patience broke. His fingers closed on the man's throat with inhuman speed. Akira watched, stunned, as Morvain ripped the man's windpipe free with a single, brutal pull. Blood gushed. The Man crumpled, choking and dying in a heap.
"Get him out of here," Morvain snarled at the other two. "And if you ever come near this place again, I will rip your hearts out and stake them." The two men scrambled away, dragging their fallen friend.
Morvain returned inside, hands stained. Akira saw, across the courtyard through the window, young Charles watching from the sill — eyes wide, face pale. Can he see from there? Akira wondered, the question hanging like a cold breath.