"What...?" I asked, as if I had heard the most outlandish thing ever.
"I'm asking if you'd like to move into our orphanage." Sister Marrow repeated. Her voice held a quality of eternal kindness and reassurance that cut through your fears like a headlamp through fog.
"..."
I stood there dumbfounded.
Stupefied.
For what felt like years.
'Is this my big break?'
I nearly said those words out loud, but I held my tongue.
A chance to ditch these rancid, putrid, bitter berries once and for all and embrace a life of everlasting bliss?
Without missing a beat, I jumped for joy.
I grasped Sister Marrow's gloved hands in mine and eagerly said, "Yes!"
...
...
...
Why?
...
Why did I do that?
...
Why did I agree so eagerly?
...
So carefree?
So naive?
...
How come the images of the starving children wandering the streets never came to mind?
...
...
...
...
There is no such thing as a free meal.
++++++
...
...
...
We were now walking to the orphanage.
I half couldn't believe it.
I was leaving the slums... Maybe for good!
Every step I took away from the shrine felt liberating, like layers of accumulated grime were being peeled off under a hot shower.
Sister Marrow walked just ahead of me.
Silent.
I didn't care, though; my head was too full of noise.
No more begging.
No more hunger.
No more curling up on the hard floor.
I felt my face stretch into an obnoxious smile.
A bed.
Real food.
A future!
I almost started laughing.
The face of the bandana boy and his crew flashed across my mind. No longer would I need to hide away from them while scavenging the streets.
We left the town behind and entered a wooded area.
I never realized the town's center would be so full of nature.
When we reached the gate, I stopped short.
It was huge.
Ornate iron bars stretched high above us, clean and polished, like it was ready to pierce the heavens.
And etched across the very top were the words:
"The House of Saint Lyria."
The name... It rang a bell...
But where from?
My astute memory never fails me, and in moments, my brain fished up the answer.
The Bandana boy and the shopkeeper from whom I stole a potato. They all mentioned her.
She must be the god of this world.
The Buddha, Jesus, and Zeus almighty.
Upon reaching that realization, a silent, simmering rage welled in my heart.
If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be in this situation...
But I quickly smothered the flames of indignation. Fearing that she might strike me down in my hubris.
Suddenly, Sister Marrow's calming voice broke me free from my thoughts. "Rhys?"
I realized that Sister Marrow had already opened the ornate gate and was waiting for me to catch up.
With rushed steps, I found myself back at her side.
As I followed her through, my jaw dropped.
What lay behind the walls separating the rest of the village from the House of Saint Lyria was a mansion.
A literal mansion.
White walls, black tiled roof, windows trimmed with ivy.
The space between the mansion and the enclosed walls was filled with beautiful gardens of purple bellflowers.
"Those are called Belladonna," Sister Marrow said, catching me gazing at the flower fields.
"Be careful, however," She warned, "They're very poisonous."
"Then why do you grow them?" I ask.
"To protect the children inside." Sister Marrow responded, gesturing toward the mansion.
"Also—" she added, "I find them quite pretty." She said with a soft giggle.
Without another word, we continued toward the mansion.
We passed a swing set just a bit off the path.
Two kids were quietly swaying back and forth.
No talking.
No laughing.
I almost waved, but decided against it. It would probably look creepy.
A lump formed in my throat.
++++++
Inside was even more impressive. Wooden floors, clean hallways, and actual light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.
I've only ever seen light fixtures in movies.
It also smelled clean. Kind of reminiscent of soap or fresh laundry.
"Why hello, Sister Marrow." A man said, bowing.
He was also adorned in a habit. He had an oak-hued complexion and carried sharp green eyes and brown slicked hair.
"Greetings, Brother Vann." Sister Marrow responded, bowing as well.
"Who's this young one?" Brother Vann asked, gesturing toward me.
Instead of introducing me, however, Sister Marrow lightly pushed my back, as Brother Vann, understanding her intent, crouched down till we were at eye level.
I was no fool as well.
She wants me to introduce myself.
"M-my name's Rhys Sinclair. Nice to meet you!" I said, bowing as well.
As a side note, it's been a while since I've had to bow like this. Back in my old world, I'd bow for just about any reason on any occasion.
Something tickled at my heart, and I felt a sweetness linger in the back of my throat.
It's strange. Introducing myself like this...
Made me feel just a little bit more at home.
A little less foreign.
Brother Vann let out a little giggle before patting my head.
"Nice to meet you, as you may have heard, I'm Brother Vann, a friar."
Friar?
An unfamiliar word.
Before I could voice my question, Brother Vann stood up and began talking to Sister Marrow again.
In the end, I didn't get to ask.
++++++
We walked past a chapel, up a staircase, and past a dining hall that looked like it was straight out of Hogw*rts.
I caught the distant, gleeful voices of children playing deeper inside.
Or maybe in the backyard?
This place was so large that I was already getting turned around.
For now, I should focus on memorizing the layout of this mansion to avoid getting lost in the future.
"You'll be sharing a room with one other." Sister Marrow said as we stopped before a door. "I'll ask them to show you around."
On the door was a worn placard that read "54."
Suddenly, she bent over.
Her face was a mere few inches away from mine.
I could feel her breath on my face.
And I held my own, afraid it smelled bad.
"Play nice." With those words, she opened the door before I could even nod.
Before me sat three kids who had clearly been mid-conversation before I walked in.
One looked to be a girl, the other two boys.
The girl was hard to miss—long, vivid blue hair spilled over her shoulders, matching her piercing eyes. Her skin was almost unnaturally pale, like sun-bleached parchment. She didn't blink as she stared at me.
The older boy had jet-black hair that hung just past his chin, slightly wavy and effortlessly neat. His skin was a few shades darker, warm-toned, and scattered with freckles across his nose and cheeks. What stood out most were his eyes—large, round, and a bright, almost golden yellow.
I've noticed since coming to this world that the color of the iris is a lot more varied and bright. Mine, for instance, was a muddy jade green, just like my long, tangled hair.
Not exactly an eye color you'd find out in the street.
The last kid was the only one who looked remotely average. Short brown hair, matching brown eyes, and slightly pudgy cheeks that gave him a babyish charm. Nothing particularly remarkable about him.
Which, strange enough, may make him the oddest one here.
They sat in a loose, messy circle on the floor, all three sets of eyes fixed on me.
"Oh!" Sister Marrow gasped, "What are you two doing here?"
Suddenly, the girl spoke up.
"We're just here to play again." She responded, her voice crisp and oddly elegant.
"Hehe... Torry hurt his leg and can't play outside right now." The yellow-eyed boy continued while gesturing toward the normal-looking, brown haired, brown-eyed boy.
So he must be Torry.
It seemed my gaze remained fixed on him for too long as he shrank back ever so slightly.
Sensing his wariness, I redirected my gaze toward the yellow-eyed boy.
A sense of bemusement seemed to be etched across his radiant face.
Which, oddly enough, kind of annoyed me for some bizarre reason.
I briefly glanced at the blue-haired girl.
"What are you looking at?" She mouthed.
I quickly fix my gaze toward the ground.
Outside the obvious and blatant edge in her tone, there was something in her gaze—sharp, discerning—that seemed to strip me bare, as though she could see straight through the charade and into the raw, unpolished truth of me.
Suddenly, another gentle push on my back from Sister Marrow.
"Introduce yourself." She said with a smile.
I felt my face redden ever so slightly, realizing that I had been staring at those 3 in silence for an awkward amount of time now.
"H-hi," My voice cracked. "My name is Rhys... Rhys Sinclair."
I felt like whipping my head around dramatically, clenching my fist, and growling into an imaginary camera like you'd see in anime.
But I swallowed the urge before it festered.
My reputation couldn't afford any more damage.
The yellow-eyed boy chuckled, clearly entertained. "Nice to meet you, Rhys. I'm Cassia."
He extended a hand without standing up.
I took it instinctively, expecting a handshake.
Only to be yanked down onto the floor beside him.
"Sit, sit!" he said cheerfully, patting the wooden boards.
I complied, awkwardly. It felt like the new kid who was being picked up but was too oblivious to realize it.
Sister Marrow, seemingly believing that the exchange between us was nothing but courteous and kind, gave one final smile before letting us know: "I'll join the others in preparing dinner, alright? Keep getting to know each other till then—and play nice."
Her last warning seemed to be directed toward Cassia this time.
Clack.
The silence that followed was disproportionately loud.
Sister Marrow has left the game.
She's gone.
She's left me.
Don't just leave me here with a bunch of children!
I might look like a kid, and maybe I kind of act like one at the moment, but spiritually, I'm pushing the age where most think my mid-life crisis is around the corner. Hell, maybe this is my mid-life crisis.
Perhaps sensing my distress, Cassia takes it upon himself to keep the conversation going.
"This is Torry," Cassia says, grabbing him by the shoulder.
He looked quite frazzled. Perhaps my presence was somehow intimidating to the young child.
I bow toward the awkward boy. "Nice to meet you."
To which, Torry scrambled to his senses and yelped, "L-likewise!"
"And then, this is Lina Ve!" Cassia says, putting a hand on her shoulder.
I bow toward her. "Pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine." She responded without a millimeter of 'pleasure' in her voice.
Something told me she was the prickly type. And I probably won't be good friends with her.
"Wait—Lina Ve?" I ask.
"Lina Ve, for Lina Vexley!" Cassia said, "I made up the nickname myself."
Vexley... I recognize that name... But from where?
"I've been staying at the house of Saint Lyria for the longest." Cassia said, "So, if you have any questions, ask away!"
"Oh... Okay." I respond, pushing Lina's family name to the back burner for now.
Questions… Huh?
"Hey… Then, if you don't mind… I have a question."
Cassia turned to look at me, a bit surprised that I already had a question.
"Sure!" He responded enthusiastically with a child-like inflection.
"The twins I saw." I cut myself off, realizing the words 'The twins I saw' were far too vague. "I mean… Do you know the names of the twins here? Long black hair, both girls?"
For some reason, their strange appearance and somber, subdued demeanor had tickled my curiosity.
Cassia turned toward Lina, who shook her head before turning toward Torry, who also shook his.
"I… Don't think we have twins here…?" He replied hesitantly, slightly cocking his head.
"Seriously?" I murmured under my breath.
Perhaps they're newcomers, just like me?
Whatever the case, it put a bad taste in my mouth and a pit in my gut…
Ominous.
"Anyway!" Cassia exclaimed, "What are you in here for?"
In here for? Sounds like a cheesy line you'd here in prison movies. It makes me wonder if they have comics or other forms of entertainment like that.
"I'm, uh… Sister Marrow found me living inside one of their shrines and allowed me to come stay here." I said, leaving a few details out.
"So you're from the slums?!" Cassia asked, a tinge of excitement present in his voice.
Were people like me rarer than I thought?
"Yes." I nod.
Lina, who'd been quiet for the entire conversation, suddenly piped up.
"You're lucky." She said, a certain edge in her voice.
She'd been treating me so warily… A stark contrast to Cassia's behavior.
"Yes… I agree…" I replied.
"Wow! Me too!" Cassia continued. "I grew up in the East Side."
"I see…"
I'm not sure which side I grew up on. I'm pretty sure I was more toward the middle.
Knock
Knock
Suddenly, a knock on the door.
"Dinner is ready." It was a voice I recognized.
It was Brother Vann.
++++++
The grand dining hall, where everyone gathered to eat under Saint Lyria's benevolent eye, looked like a set piece straight out of the grand banquet scene from that undescribed wizard book of a hairy potter.
The dining room was massive—larger than any I'd ever seen in an orphanage, and pristine. Long rows of dark wooden tables stretched wall to wall, each lined with evenly spaced, backless benches. Every table setting was identical: a plain ceramic plate, a wooden spoon, and a cloth napkin folded into a perfect triangle.
The walls were painted a pale, chalky ivory, and tall arched windows let in a muted, bluish light.
At the far end of the room stood a raised podium, carved from the same dark wood as the tables. It towered slightly above the floor on a shallow platform of three steps. A modest sigil of Saint Lyria—a circle broken by three vertical lines—was etched into its front panel, smooth and symmetrical. Behind it, a small table with a basin of water and a single unlit candle sat like ritual props you'd see in movies.
The dining hall buzzed with soft conversation, dozens of children seated before empty plates, chatting lazily as they waited for dinner.
Naturally, I sat with Cassia, Lina, and Torry—we'd arrived together, and I didn't know anyone here.
Curiously, however, Lina sat closest to me, with her sitting on my right.
Our seating order went like this.
Cassia, me, Lina, and Torry.
I was being sandwiched.
Sitting next to them like this, I was once more reminded of my height.
Honestly, it was starting to become a little aggravating.
"I wonder what we're eating tonight…" Torry murmured, his expression relaxing a little, as if even the thought of food could take the edge off.
"Probably something more extravagant," Lina whispered, barely above a breath. "They always do something fancy when we get a new arrival."
Before I could ask what "extravagant" meant by their standards, the sharp click of a door opening cut clean through the noise like a knife through butter.
The chatter stopped instantly.
A man I hadn't seen before entered the room, dressed in slightly more ornate robes than the others—subtle embroidery at the cuffs, a silver chain tucked beneath his collar.
"That's Father Saff." Whispered Cassia.
"Quiet, everyone," he announced, his voice calm but commanding. "Sister Marrow has a brief announcement."
As if on cue, a procession of clergymen and women flowed into the room, moving with a familiar synchronicity as they began setting the tables with a steady pace.
I spotted Brother Vann among them, his expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Sister Marrow ascended the small podium at the head of the room.
She paused, surveying the children, then cleared her throat delicately.
"Ahem."
"Today," she began, "it is with great joy that we welcome a new member to our family."
She extended a hand in my direction.
Immediately, I felt it—every pair of eyes in the room turning toward me.
Hundreds of them.
"His name is Rhys Sinclair."
Staring at me.
"Please treat him with the kindness and respect you would treat your fellow sisters and brothers."
Judging me.
"If he ever seems to be in distress, be sure to lend a guiding hand."
Dissecting every inch of me with an intense scrutiny, as if trying to decode who I was based on posture alone.
I straightened my back instinctively, like I was on a bed of nails.
"I ask that you keep your questions and curiosities to yourselves," Sister Marrow continued. "Give him time. Let him settle in."
She smiled, graceful and serene.
"Thank you for listening," she said with a final nod before stepping down from the podium and vanishing through a side door.
The silence lingered for a while longer.
One by one, the gazes disappeared. Only then did I feel the cold condensation on my back.
Then, gradually, the tension loosened. Conversation resumed in low, polite waves, voices returning one by one like droplets into a pail, until the room once again filled with the soft murmur of children preparing to eat.
I looked down, and for some reason, was surprised that there was food before me.
"Ah…"
I had been so tense that I had failed to notice them putting food in front of me.
The food in question was simple.
An unidentifiable, white, lean meat, I assume to be poultry, is immersed in a thick stew along with some vegetables.
The portions were quite hearty for a child.
In anticipation, I picked up my fork, only to feel Lina, of all people, stopping my spoon just short of the creamy broth.
"Wait… Just a while longer, then we can eat." She commanded.
At that moment, as if on cue, the adorned man reentered the room, his necklace catching in the sunlight.
All around me, the children straightened their backs in perfect unison. No instruction. No prompting. Torry folded his hands without a word. Lina's eyes drifted shut. Cassia's fingers rested lightly over his chest.
I followed their lead, slower than I should've, trying not to look as out of place as I felt.
Then, from the front of the room, one of the priests—an older man with a sunken face and hollow voice—stepped behind the podium. He raised a hand.
And they began.
"O Lyria, Mother of Still Waters and Quiet Joy,"
"We thank you for this meal."
"We take nothing in greed, for you teach us sufficiency."
"We chew in silence, for your harmony needs no noise."
The words flowed out like a calm, unbroken river. There was no hesitation, no murmuring out of sync.
It was unnatural how… perfect it sounded.
Impressive, honestly.
I simply mouthed the words, afraid to break the harmonizing chant.
"Empty us of pride, fill us with Your will."
"Let no craving remain but the craving for Your stillness."
"Praise be to the Silence."
"Praise be to the Unspoken Song."
"Praise be to Saint Lyria, who feeds us without excess."
The room paused for a moment, a break from the steady stream of prayer.
"Enrai."
I felt a surge of… Something flowing through me.
It was odd.
I'd never heard such a perfect prayer before. It was strangely moving.
"…" I sat there in silence for a while longer, unsure of when to open my eyes.
However, before long, I began to hear the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain.
I peeked through my eyes to find the children already eating.
I felt my face flush as I spotted Cassia giggling beside me, with Torry awkwardly staring away, followed by Lina's indifferent, nonchalant gaze fixed on me.
Wordlessly, I began sipping my soup, choking the first sip out of embarrassment, trying my damndest to quell the heat on my cheeks.
Despite my embarrassment, however, the warm, comforting soup tasted so good it nearly brought me to tears.
[CH END]