Asfinne froze in shock. Meriana's words echoed in his mind, each syllable sinking deeper like ripples in still water. His breath caught in his throat, and for a long moment, he couldn't tell whether what she said was true — or if she was merely trying to protect him from suspicion. Confusion tangled through his thoughts, swift and relentless, like a cold wind cutting through his chest.
The room remained quiet, yet that quietness was no longer calm — it was thick, heavy, filled with unspoken tension. The three children standing before him exchanged glances, each wearing a different expression. Galax still looked uncertain, his brows furrowed as if trying to solve a riddle. The red-haired girl clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to contain the storm brewing inside her. The black-haired boy stood still, but his dark eyes gleamed with sharp curiosity — silent, but not blind.
Meriana seemed to sense their disbelief. Yet, she said nothing. Her posture remained graceful, her face composed. But her eyes… her eyes held something mysterious, as if she carried a secret that words could never express.
Then, quietly, she reached up and grasped the necklace around her neck. The light from the window shimmered over the metal, revealing a glint of black — a pendant shaped like half a heart. Only half. Its surface was smooth and polished, but its incomplete form radiated a quiet sorrow, like a symbol of something once whole, now lost.
The moment the pendant caught the light, all three children gasped. Their eyes widened in shock, and they turned toward Asfinne almost in unison.
Meriana rose gracefully from her seat. Her golden hair gleamed beneath the soft sunlight, each strand catching the air as she moved. She stepped closer to him, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor. The quiet rhythm of her approach filled the silence — a calm but steady sound, echoing the heartbeat that pounded within Asfinne's chest.
He instinctively took a small step back but stopped himself. He couldn't look away from her eyes — steady, focused, determined. She stopped in front of him, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth radiating from her. Then, gently, she reached forward and touched the necklace that hung around his own neck.
It was only then that he realized he, too, wore one. He had never paid attention to it before — a simple black cord, a pendant that rested against his chest. But when her fingers brushed against it, the weight of it suddenly became real.
Meriana lifted her pendant, the half-heart of her necklace, and brought it toward his. When the two pieces met, they clicked together with a soft metallic sound — clink. The two halves fit perfectly. Complete.
The reaction was immediate. The three children gasped in astonishment. Galax's eyes widened in disbelief, and his voice rose, trembling with shock.
"That necklace! Fin said it was something you only get from someone important! Don't tell me— it's you!?"
His words hung in the air like a lightning strike, leaving silence in their wake.
Asfinne stood frozen. His mind blanked completely. He didn't understand — not even a little. That necklace… he had never been told what it meant. He didn't remember anyone giving it to him. Maybe the previous Asfinne — the one everyone here seemed to know — had told them something about it. But to him, it was nothing but a mysterious trinket that now connected him to a truth he didn't know.
Meriana, however, didn't respond. She only smiled — that same soft, unreadable smile that concealed as much as it revealed. Her golden eyes glimmered faintly, serene yet distant. Without a word, she turned and walked back to her seat, her movements graceful and calm, as if what just happened was nothing unusual at all.
Galax couldn't hold back any longer. He rushed toward Asfinne, eyes wide with excitement, his voice breaking the silence.
"So what's the truth, Fin!? Tell us! What's really going on!?"
Asfinne could only smile in return — a helpless, strained smile. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, his mind spinning out of control.
"I don't know, damn it!"
He wanted to scream, but the words never left his mouth. They stayed trapped in his thoughts, echoing in his head again and again.
The room fell silent once more. Only the faint rustle of the curtains broke the stillness as the wind drifted gently through the open window. Sunlight spilled across the floor, scattering golden patterns across the wooden boards. The air felt warm yet strangely heavy.
Asfinne stood there, his forced smile lingering as confusion churned within him. He didn't know what to believe anymore — whether fate was playing a cruel trick, or whether he was standing in the middle of a story that had begun long before he ever opened his eyes
After a long silence in the room — so silent that even the sound of breathing seemed distant — the air began to stir faintly as footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. One after another, children from the orphanage began to walk into the room. Their small steps filled the quiet space with life. Galax approached Asfinne and took his hand, gently leading him toward one of the long tables that stretched across the center of the hall. The table was long enough to seat everyone who lived there, lined with neatly arranged chairs.
Galax guided Asfinne to sit near the front row, where he could clearly see the rest of the children as they came in. More and more of them began to arrive, filling the empty seats one by one. Asfinne glanced toward the light streaming through the high windows; judging by the brightness, he guessed it must be around eight in the morning — breakfast time. The sound of quiet chatter began to fill the hall, soft but warm, like the slow awakening of a sleepy morning.
When it seemed that nearly everyone had arrived, one final figure entered through the doorway. She carried herself with calm grace — brown hair catching the morning light, eyes the color of a clear blue sky. It was Alenya. She stepped inside carrying a tray of food, balanced carefully in both hands. The faint aroma of freshly cooked dishes followed her as she placed each plate neatly along the tables. Some of the children hurried to help her distribute the food, moving back and forth between the kitchen and the hall.
Asfinne, however, chose to remain seated. He didn't quite know what to do, so he simply watched quietly, hands folded on his lap, until every plate was served and set before the children. When the last of the food was placed on the table, the sight before him was one of simple warmth — plates of steaming food filling the long table, laughter and whispers from the children bouncing softly off the wooden walls.
He looked down at his own plate. The dish appeared familiar — Amfenette, a breakfast meal from his previous world. The recognition startled him slightly, a bittersweet twinge stirring in his chest. He wondered if this world had borrowed the same name or if it was merely coincidence. Either way, the aroma was comforting.
Instinctively, he waited for someone to say a prayer or a short phrase before eating, as was the custom he once knew. But none came. The silence lingered for a moment longer until Alenya, standing at the front of the hall with a gentle smile, said softly,
"Go ahead and eat, everyone."
Her voice carried warmth that spread across the room like sunlight. As soon as she spoke, the children began to eat, cheerful murmurs filling the air once again. Asfinne quietly picked up his utensils and took his first bite. The taste was simple — not particularly delicious, but not bad either. It was enough to fill him, to calm the lingering tension in his chest.
He ate slowly, savoring each bite more for the sense of peace than for the flavor. Around him, the sound of spoons clinking against plates blended with laughter and the faint creak of chairs. There was something comforting in the ordinariness of it all — something he hadn't felt in a long time.
When he finally finished, he set his utensils neatly on the plate and glanced around. The others were finishing as well. Some children leaned back, satisfied; others wiped their mouths with napkins and smiled at their friends. The room, once filled with the soft rhythm of eating, began to grow quiet again.
Then, when every plate was empty and every child had turned their attention to her, Alenya stood once more at the end of the long table. She clasped her hands together gently and began to speak.
The voice of Alenya rose gently through the large hall — soft yet clear enough to silence the room.
"Today, we'll all be working together."
Her tone carried warmth, the kind that felt like morning sunlight slipping through the wooden windows. The golden rays caught in her brown hair, turning every strand into liquid light, as if the sun itself had chosen to rest upon her shoulders. All around the long table, the children lifted their faces, eyes gleaming with attention and quiet respect.
Alenya held a folded sheet of paper in her hand. She began to speak, calling out group by group, assigning work in her steady, unhurried voice. Each word came clearly, the rhythm calm but certain. Even the youngest children could understand her instructions. Her words floated across the wooden walls, and the faint echoes lingered softly. One by one, the clinking of spoons and dishes faded away until only her gentle voice filled the air.
She continued listing the tasks — one group was to clean the rooms, another to tend to the vegetable garden, and yet another to repair the wooden fence behind the building. The children answered politely, their small voices overlapping: "Yes, ma'am," "Okay," "Got it," until the room pulsed with soft agreement.
Then, after a short pause, she moved on to the next group.
"The next group will be helping at the security station, alright?"
The air shifted slightly. The chatter stopped again, replaced by curious looks shared among the children. It wasn't a task often given to them — the "security station" sounded serious, perhaps even dangerous. Yet Alenya's voice remained gentle, carrying reassurance in every word.
"Asfinne, Galax, Sonia, Meriana, and Merian — you'll be taking that job, alright, dears?"
At the sound of his name, Asfinne looked up. The sunlight caught in his eyes, reflecting faint glimmers of gold. For a brief moment, surprise filled him. He hadn't expected children like them to be assigned to something as weighty as the security station.
He turned toward Galax, who sat only a few seats away. Galax immediately stood, a bright grin forming on his face. His eyes shone with confidence and familiarity, as though this kind of task didn't trouble him in the slightest.
"Let's go!" he said cheerfully, the sound brimming with youthful energy.
The liveliness in Galax's voice tugged a small smile from Asfinne — a quiet, hesitant one that barely curved his lips. Slowly, he rose from his chair. The soft scrape of its legs against the wooden floor echoed faintly through the hall.
Galax picked up his plate with both hands and began walking toward the kitchen. Asfinne followed, mimicking his every movement. Their footsteps tapped lightly along the narrow corridor connecting the dining hall to the kitchen.
Inside, the kitchen felt warmer — the air thick with the lingering scent of freshly cooked food. Morning light streamed through the small window above the sink, scattering across the metal and ceramic surfaces, making everything shimmer faintly. The sink was half-filled with dishes stacked in uneven piles.
Asfinne washed his dish quietly. The warm water running over his fingers felt strangely calming. The rhythmic sound of water splashing against porcelain mixed with the laughter of other children who were also cleaning beside him.
He noticed that everyone there moved with quiet purpose. No one complained, no one hurried. Each child seemed to know their part in this daily rhythm — a shared routine that had long become second nature.
When he finished washing his dish, he placed it neatly onto the wooden rack nearby. Taking a cloth, he wiped his hands dry before stepping out of the kitchen. The door creaked softly open, and cool air brushed against his skin as he stepped outside.
A faint morning breeze drifted past, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp soil after sunrise. He spotted Galax and Meriana standing near the front gate of the orphanage, talking quietly with one another. Sunlight spilled over them, tracing soft golden outlines around their hair and faces.
Asfinne paused for a moment, observing. Around the yard, he noticed some of the children changing into different clothes — light coats, scarves, leather shoes. Some stayed in the same outfits, others were already tying up their sleeves, preparing to leave. The mix of colors and movement gave the scene a sense of calm life, like the morning itself had begun to breathe.
Taking a deep breath, Asfinne stepped forward, the sound of his shoes shifting from wood to gravel beneath him. Each step carried a quiet blend of uncertainty and resolve. He didn't know what awaited them at the security station — or what it even looked like — but he knew that, whatever it was, he had to follow.
The morning sun had risen higher now, pouring warmth and light across the world. The air shimmered faintly in the brightness, and as Asfinne walked on, it felt as though the day itself was awakening beside him — golden, soft, and full of questions yet to be answered.