Carolyn sighed softly, her gaze dropping as her expression shifted from contentment to a profound sadness.
"But I haven't heard anything about him for a long time. They say he lost a major battle five years ago and was labeled a traitor by the Empire. At one point, his wanted posters were plastered on every street corner..."
Her sigh held a complex mix of emotions—maternal worry, lingering pride, and perhaps a flicker of disillusionment.
Did Carolyn still secretly believe in Leon, or had she begun to feel disappointment in the most promising student she had ever taught?
Leon couldn't tell, and the uncertainty twisted like a knife in his gut.
Realizing she might have said too much to strangers, Carolyn quickly changed the subject, replacing her solemnity with a practiced, warm smile.
"Judging by the looks of you two, I'd guess you haven't been married for very long?"
Leon and Rossweise exchanged a brief glance, a silent agreement passing between them to play along.
Hmm... would five years and three children count as 'not long'?
"Yes, not very long," Leon replied smoothly. "While walking around, we heard the children laughing here and thought we'd take a look. It's a lovely sound."
"Are you both fond of children?" Carolyn asked, her eyes crinkling.
"Yes," Leon said, his voice softening as he glanced at Rossweise. "My wife and I adore children quite a bit."
So much so that in just five years of marriage, they already had three daughters waiting for them at home.
Carolyn chuckled softly, turning to watch the children playing in the courtyard, their joyful shouts echoing in the evening air.
"If only every parent were like you. Then perhaps there would be fewer unfortunate little ones left behind."
After decades of working at the orphanage, Carolyn's deep, abiding empathy was something Leon knew intimately. She loved children with all her heart but had never married. Partly because of her vows as a nun, but also, as she had once confided in a younger Leon, because she knew that if she had a child of her own, she would find it difficult to spread her love equally among all the orphaned children who needed her.
The orphanage was a sanctuary, a place that gave these abandoned children a chance to face life with courage again. And it was the boundless love from nuns like Carolyn that filled the void in their lives. In a very real sense, every child who passed through these gates was hers.
"Teacher! Teacher!"
As they chatted, a young nun hurried over, her steps light and quick.
Leon glanced her way and, seeing her familiar face, opened his mouth in silent surprise.
"Sharon..." he breathed out, the name a ghost on his lips.
Rossweise turned to him, having caught his surprised whisper. She noted the name. From the look on Leon's face, this Sharon was clearly someone from his past.
Rossweise felt no jealousy; Leon's tone and expression held only the warm surprise of an old friend meeting again, devoid of any "long-lost love" melodrama.
"What is it, Sharon?" Carolyn asked.
Sharon, the young nun, stopped before Carolyn, slightly breathless. "Teacher, we still have so many paper lanterns left to make for the Lantern Festival. The headmistress says we need to hurry if we're to have enough."
"Alright, I'll come help right away."
"Mm-hmm. I'll just—" As she spoke, Sharon's gaze drifted over Leon and Rossweise.
She didn't recognize the stunningly beautiful woman with the long black hair.
But the man...
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Sharon said, "Wait, sir, have we met somewhere before?"
Before Leon could formulate another denial, he felt a sudden, deliberate squeeze on his hand.
He looked over to find it was Rossweise, who had activated their private, mental connection.
"Yes, husband," her voice echoed in his mind, laced with playful curiosity rather than accusation, "have you two met before?"
Not that she was jealous, but it was still good to clarify who this familiar face was.
"Have I ever told you about the time I single-handedly took down a rabid dog when I was twelve?" Leon replied mentally, a fond memory surfacing.
"Yes, you did. To save a little girl, wasn't it?" Rossweise recalled.
"She's that little girl."
"..."
Rossweise rolled her eyes internally. The world really was small, and fate had a strange sense of humor.
After his quick explanation, Leon shook his head at Sharon, repeating the same deflection he'd used with Carolyn.
"I don't believe so. I probably just have one of those common faces—Teacher Carolyn mistook me for someone else just now, too."
Sharon nodded, though a hint of doubt remained in her eyes. "Ah, I see... I thought for a moment you might be Leon-brother, come back to visit."
At the words "Leon-brother," Rossweise's grip on his hand tightened just noticeably.
Leon kept a straight face, pretending not to notice the subtle pressure on his fingers.
Ah, he thought wryly, maybe I should've left my good deeds anonymous back then.
"You thought he was Leon, too?" Carolyn smiled ruefully. "Who knows how that boy is doing now... I hope he hasn't been caught by the Empire." The worry in her voice was palpable.
"He wouldn't be!" Sharon's youthful spirit shone through as she blurted out, "Leon-brother would never be captured. He's too strong! And besides, I never believed he was a traitor to begin with. Never!"
Carolyn cast a cautious glance toward Leon and Rossweise, quickly pulling Sharon's wrist and offering an apologetic smile to the couple. "Forgive her; Sharon tends to speak without thinking. She's always been so spirited."
Given she couldn't be sure of Leon and Rossweise's origins or allegiances, discussing rebellion and traitors was best avoided altogether. Despite Carolyn's own deep longing for the boy she'd once cared for, she was bound by the rules and dangers of the Empire in which she lived.
"It's no problem at all," Leon assured her, his heart aching at the need for such caution. He swiftly changed the subject. "I heard Sharon mention you're making paper lanterns for the Lantern Festival?"
"Yes, that's right," Carolyn confirmed.
"Is the orphanage actually making them now?" Leon asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. While the Lantern Festival was a significant holiday, he didn't recall the orphanage ever having to produce the lanterns themselves—they'd always bought them from outside vendors.
Carolyn's smile became a little strained. "It's out of necessity, I'm afraid. A way to bring in some extra funds for the children."
Leon's brows furrowed slightly. Since when had the orphanage in the relatively affluent middle district needed to make paper lanterns to "make ends meet"?
His eyes swept over the church and its entrance more carefully, noting the peeling paint on the window frames, the worn path on the stone steps, the general air of genteel shabbiness that hadn't been there five years ago. An uneasy pang struck his heart.
"But the orphanage receives government funding, doesn't it?" he asked, already dreading the answer.
"Oh, well—" Carolyn began, but Sharon cut in, her tone sharp with a bitterness that seemed too old for her young face.
"A few years ago, sure, the royal family allocated funds. But lately, they've added all kinds of ridiculous audits and approvals, layers and layers of bureaucracy! So by the time the funding trickles down to us, we're lucky to see even a third of what we're supposed to get!"
This time, Carolyn didn't stop her. She merely looked down, her silence speaking volumes.
Hearing Sharon's frustrated outburst, Leon's heart grew heavier. What had happened? The once-prosperous, if flawed, Empire... how had it declined into this state of blatant corruption in just a few short years?
His mind raced through the signs: his master, Tiger, navigating the Empire's gray areas, gambling and running underground dealings not for wealth, but to financially pressure the government into better behavior... himself being framed as a traitor, his name slandered... the Empire's hidden agenda with the renegade dragon clans—a scheme to exploit the people on an even larger scale...
And now... that corruption had even crept into this sanctuary, this orphanage, threatening the most vulnerable. The Empire's stench of power had become a plague, seeping into every corner, poisoning everything it touched.
"So, with little choice, we make paper lanterns to sell in the upper district," Carolyn explained, her voice weary. "We can't very well let the children eat stale bread during such a festive season."
Leon forced down the hot surge of anger and disappointment rising in his throat. "When did this all start?" he asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.
"Well... about five years—" Carolyn started.
"Since Leon-brother left, everyone's lives have just gone downhill," Sharon interrupted, her voice thick with emotion.
Carolyn shook her head with a resigned smile. "Though she's blunt, she's not wrong. Five years ago, after Leon vanished... for whatever reason, life for the common people seemed to take a nosedive."
"I think I know why, Teacher!" Sharon continued, her words tumbling out. "Leon-brother was the leader of the Dragon Slayer Corps, with troops under his command! He was upright and hated evil—there's no way he'd allow the royals to pull these tricks, so they had to—"
"You're saying too much, Sharon," Carolyn warned gently, her eyes flicking again toward the silent couple.
"...Hmph." Sharon huffed, crossing her arms, but still muttering under her breath, "I just think... if Leon-brother were here, we'd be living better than we are now. He wouldn't let this happen."
"But he isn't here, Sharon." The profound sadness in Carolyn's voice was unmistakable, as she softly repeated the painful truth, "He... isn't here."
A somber silence fell over the small group at the gate.
But Carolyn, ever the resilient caretaker, quickly adjusted, offering another apologetic smile. "Sorry about that, just commoners sharing their foolish worries. Pay us no mind."
"Oh... no, it's quite alright," Leon managed, his voice slightly hoarse. If not for their mistaken identification of him, they wouldn't have shared so much. He found himself hoping they wouldn't get into trouble for speaking so freely.
Dong—dong—
The orphanage's brass bell rang, its familiar, clear tone signaling dinner time.
"Would you like to stay and share a simple meal with us?" Carolyn asked, the invitation genuine.
"Oh, no need. Thank you for the offer," Leon declined softly.
"Alright, then. Enjoy your stay in the Empire. We have work to get back to, so we'll take our leave."
Carolyn and Sharon nodded in farewell and turned to walk back toward the main building.
But Leon suddenly called out to them. "Wait, Teacher Carolyn."
"Yes, sir?" she said, turning back.
Leon reached into his inner pocket and took out his wallet, retrieving a heavy, small pouch of gold coins. He stepped forward and pressed it into Carolyn's hand. "For the lanterns. I'm ordering all of them. I'll send someone to pick them up in two days."
Carolyn looked down at the pouch, feeling its significant weight, and hesitated. "That's... that's far too much, sir. We couldn't possibly make so many lanterns, even if we worked day and night."
Leon's mind raced, quickly formulating a response. "Then consider the rest a donation to the orphanage. For the children."
"Well... alright." Carolyn's eyes grew slightly moist. "Thank you for your generosity, sir. May I ask your name, so we know who to thank?"
"Constantine," Leon said without missing a beat.
"Ah... a name that promises a bright future," Carolyn said, a faint, curious smile touching her lips. "Thank you, Mr. Constantine. We'll do our best to make as many fine lanterns as we can."
"Thank you," Leon replied, his heart full.
With a final nod, Carolyn turned and walked away, the pouch of coins clutched tightly in her hand.
Once they were out of earshot, Rossweise uncrossed her arms and sidled up to him, a teasing lilt in her voice.
"You really are a master of anonymous charity, aren't you, Leon~brother~?"
Leon grinned, linking his arm with hers. "I did leave a name, didn't I?"
Rossweise laughed, a light, musical sound. "And 'Constantine' is what you went with, huh, you fool? Laying the blame on your new fiery ally?"
"Consider it laying the groundwork for public support for the Crimson Flame Dragon King's eventual arrival," Leon replied with feigned seriousness, though his eyes twinkled.
She shook her head in amusement. "Come on, let's head back before it gets too late."
Then, after a beat, she looked back at him, a mischievous glint in her silver eyes. "Need a ride back, Leon~brother~?"
"You're no fun, dragon lady!" he retorted, laughing as they began their walk back to the safehouse.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, back inside the orphanage, Carolyn and Sharon were handing out simple bowls of stew to the children. After the meal was finished and the children were settling down, the two nuns sat together on a wooden bench, speaking in hushed tones.
"Mr. Constantine really is a kind man," Sharon murmured, stirring her own stew absently.
But Carolyn frowned slightly, her gaze distant. "Yet he really did look... a lot like Leon. His voice, his bearing... it was all so familiar."
Sharon scratched her head, sighing. "I thought so too, but Leon-brother's been gone for so long now. Who knows where he is? Or if he's even... I just wish he'd come back. He'd know what to do, he'd help us..."
Come back and help us...
Carolyn looked down at the pouch of gold coins in her hands, left by the mysterious "Mr. Constantine."
She felt its weight, its solid reality. Then, a memory surfaced—a small, seemingly insignificant detail from their conversation. Her eyes widened.
"Sharon..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"What is it, Teacher?" Sharon asked, noticing the change in her demeanor.
"I never introduced myself to him," Carolyn said slowly, lifting her gaze to meet Sharon's. "Not once. I never gave him my name. So why... why did he keep calling me 'Teacher Carolyn'?"
It was as if a thunderbolt had struck them both.
Sharon froze, her spoon halting mid-air. She drew a sharp, incredulous breath, disbelief and dawning hope warring on her face.
"Leon—Leon-brother came ba—" she began, her voice rising in excitement.
But Carolyn swiftly, gently covered her mouth, her own eyes filling with tears.
As Sharon tried to push her hand away, she realized her longtime mentor, the woman who'd served at the orphanage for decades with unwavering strength, was softly crying on her shoulder, her body shaking with silent, relieved sobs.
"He came back... Sharon," Carolyn whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "He's alive. He really came back."