The scorching sun, usually a deterrent, instead fueled the chaos in the orphanage courtyard. A cacophony of shrieks and laughter erupted as children, armed with donor-gifted water pistols, turned the oppressive heat into an aquatic battlefield. Amidst the watery mayhem, a small cluster of teenagers lounged, each lost in their own world.
Everly Lin, a wisp of a girl with spectacles perched on her nose, sat cross-legged, her thumbs flying across the cracked screen of her smartphone. The device was an old model, a testament to her meager earnings from after-school shifts that stretched late into the night.
Or so the pathetic protagonist's story would go...
In reality, that phone was a trophy, acquired through a series of 'negotiations'—punctuated by fists and threats—with the local thugs who thought the orphanage was an easy mark. Behind her demure facade lay the coiled strength of a seasoned fighter, her delicate hands capable of delivering bone-shattering blows.
"Haaahh..."
Everly sighed, her voice a theatrical groan.
"Another short novel, another 'switched at birth' cliché. And, naturally, the idiotic family prefers the fake daughter to the real one. This fake daughter literally just tripped the FL and stole her boyfriend in chapter three and they're STILL falling for her tears? Are these people or sentient doormats?"
Beside her, Olivia, equally engrossed in her own phone, rolled her eyes with practiced ease.
"You say that every time, yet you devour them like candy. How many variations of that same plot have you read now? A hundred? You're basically a connoisseur of clichés at this point."
"Hehe..." Everly chuckles, tapping her chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness as she kicks her feet up on the bench, nearly knocking over Olivia's drink.
"Even when I know the whole plot, there's still that irresistible urge to see how the protagonists get their revenge. Though, honestly, the karma they dish out is usually way too mild for what those villains deserve. If it were me..."
"Oh, here we go again!" Olivia groaned, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Yes, yes, I know—if it were you, you'd beat them to a bloody pulp. But Everly, revenge isn't a martial arts tournament. It's a delicate game of chess, requiring strategy and, you know, a brain. A brain that, in your case..."
Olivia trailed off, shaking her head with a sigh that spoke volumes. Everly's glasses, ironically, lent her an air of studiousness, leading many at the orphanage and school to mistakenly seek her academic wisdom. The truth was, her elementary school graduation had been an event of near-miraculous proportions, bringing the orphanage director to joyous tears.
Far from being offended, Everly threw her head back and roared with laughter, a sound surprisingly robust for her delicate frame.
"Huahahaha! Intelligence isn't everything! Miss Jing herself said my brain is 'all muscle'! A true compliment, if you ask me!"
Olivia felt an imaginary tear trickle down her cheek. She clutched her phone like it was the only thing keeping her sane.
Oh, Everly, my sweet, misguided friend... that was not a compliment... Dear universe, why did you give her the face of a scholar and the instincts of a feral raccoon?!
She could only scream the truth silently in her heart.
Olivia, in her earlier, more naive days, had genuinely believed Everly's scholarly facade. The cheap, plastic-rimmed glasses, combined with Everly's naturally elegant posture, created the perfect illusion of an intellectual. Of course, the reality was those glasses were less a sign of academic rigor and more a testament to Everly's dedication to reading comics and novels under the covers with a flashlight.
Academically? Their most patient teacher, a man whose stoicism was legendary, had once been seen flipping a desk in sheer exasperation during a lesson with Everly. It wasn't that Everly was truly stupid; it was just that her brain seemed to go on permanent vacation the moment a textbook was opened.
Her adoption record was equally chaotic. Families, charmed by her sweet demeanor and pretty face, would take her in, only to return her to the orphanage a few weeks later. The reason? Not only was her academic apathy a constant source of frustration, but Everly also possessed an uncanny knack for turning playground squabbles into full-blown brawls. And somehow, every single time, Everly's opponent would end up looking like they'd gone ten rounds with a particularly grumpy badger, leaving the adoptive parents to dole out apologies and compensation like it was their new full-time job.
Oblivious to Olivia's internal lamentations about her intellectual shortcomings, Everly merely hummed contentedly, her eyes already glued back to the glowing screen of her phone.
A sudden crunch of gravel announced the arrival of a vehicle, sending a ripple of excitement through the courtyard. The younger children, perpetually hopeful and endlessly curious, abandoned their water war, scrambling en masse towards the gate. Every new car held the promise of a forever home, a chance at adoption.
Everly and Olivia, seasoned veterans of countless false alarms, remained unfazed. At seventeen, they were practically adults, well past the age when most prospective parents considered adoption. Their strategy was simple: bide their time until legal emancipation, then hustle their way into self-sufficiency.
Olivia yawned, stretching languidly as she watched the stampede of pint-sized hopefuls. "Think anyone's getting adopted today?"
Everly, still engrossed in her phone, barely registered the question. "Hmm? Maybe. If they're after looks, Sarah or Albert are a safe bet. Brains? Michael's their guy. Or maybe they're baby people." Her voice was flat, devoid of any real interest. Olivia merely nodded, returning to her own screen. They both knew the drill; they were never the chosen ones.
However, one of the slightly older teenagers, unable to resist the allure of the unknown, had joined the younger kids at the gate. She now came tearing back, eyes wide with awe, practically vibrating with excitement.
"You guys! You won't believe it! It's a really rich person! The car is huge, and it looks super fancy! Whoever gets picked this time is going to live like a princess or a prince!"
Everly winced. The "princess or prince" fantasy was pure cringe. Being adopted by rich people didn't magically guarantee a happy ending; sometimes, it just meant a fancier cage. She kept her thoughts to herself, though, sensing Olivia was on the same wavelength, both opting for the silent retreat into their phones. Around them, the other teenagers, despite knowing their chances were slimmer than a supermodel's waistline (less than 10%, to be precise), began to whisper and fantasize about their potential opulent futures.
About a dozen minutes later, a small, chubby boy, bursting with news, waddled towards them, closely trailed by Maria, the orphanage director's daughter. He pointed a chubby finger at Olivia, his voice surprisingly loud for his size.
"Olivia! You've been called to Mother's room!"