The office had fallen silent once Sister Alena left. The soft ticking of an old mana clock was the only sound, steady and faint beneath the hum of the lanterns.
Trafalgar glanced around the room, then at Cynthia, who stood by the desk with her arms crossed.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "what exactly did you want to show me? Another moral lesson about friendship and responsibility?"
Cynthia didn't answer right away. She simply turned toward the door and said, "Follow me."
He blinked. "That's not ominous at all."
Without another word, she stepped into the dim hallway. Trafalgar sighed and followed, boots echoing lightly on the creaking floorboards. The orphanage felt different at night—peaceful, alive in a quiet way. He could still hear muffled laughter downstairs and the faint clatter of dishes being washed.
