The heat came early that morning.
Even the sky looked tired.
Ashburn unlocked the gate of the community kitchen, expecting the usual hum — clattering dishes, low laughter, the sound of life.
But it was quiet. Too quiet.
Two volunteers were waiting outside.
They didn't come in.
"Sir…" one of them began, eyes shifting. "People are saying things again."
Ashburn froze halfway through turning the key.
"What things?"
The other boy hesitated. "That we're… using expired food. That donations aren't real. That it's all… for show."
For a moment, Ashburn just stared at them — like the words hadn't landed yet.
Then he nodded slowly. "I see."
Inside, the air smelled faintly of yesterday's rice and worry.
---
By noon, half the usual visitors didn't show up.
Two donors called to "pause" their contributions until "things cleared up."
Someone had posted a thread online — with pictures cropped just enough to look suspicious.
Kainat sat by the counter, head in her hands. Her scarf was loose, eyes tired.
"They're saying we're pocketing funds," she whispered. "That this was never about helping anyone."
Ashburn didn't answer right away. He was scrolling through his phone, reading the comments.
Greedy youth project.
Fake kindness for attention.
Even charity has become business now.
He turned the screen off. "Don't read them," he said softly.
"They'll forget in a week."
But even he didn't sound sure.
---
The next day was worse.
Three suppliers refused deliveries.
One of the kitchen's regular families — an old woman and her two grandsons — didn't come.
And when Ashburn walked through the market, no one looked him in the eye.
"People believe what they want to believe," his father had once said. "Truth doesn't sell."
He leaned against the storeroom wall and closed his eyes.
The noise of the fan above seemed too loud.
Kainat walked in quietly, holding a pile of receipts, donation slips, and photographs of their last distribution drive.
"I kept everything organized," she said, voice trembling. "Maybe… if we show this publicly, they'll understand."
Ashburn opened his eyes. "You shouldn't have to explain kindness," he said.
"But maybe… maybe we should."
---
That evening, he stood outside the kitchen — the sun melting into orange behind him — and set up a small table.
On it, he placed the receipts, the supplier lists, the donor acknowledgments.
A big sign in front read:
> Transparency Table — All records open for viewing. Ask. Verify. Judge.
People gathered slowly, cautious, whispering.
He didn't argue with anyone.
He just smiled, explained, and showed proof. Calmly.
Each visitor left quieter than they arrived.
Some even stayed to help.
By nightfall, the kitchen's lights glowed again.
Kainat watched from the doorway, eyes glassy but proud.
"You didn't fight them," she said.
"I didn't need to," he replied. "The truth was louder today."
---
When he got home late that night, the house was dark.
Sami was asleep on the couch, and Ami had left dinner covered on the table.
He sat down with a sigh. His phone buzzed softly.
> [System Evaluation: Cycle 2 Completed]
Duration: 2 Months
Fund: ₹2,00,000
Result: +71% Growth
Profit Share: 15%
New Passive Acquired: Public Trust (Basic) — "Your sincerity leaves traces even where words fail."
Next Cycle: Duration — 3 Months | Fund — ₹4,00,000
System Note:
"Sometimes, the purest hearts are accused first. Shine anyway."
He smiled faintly.
The timing almost felt… comforting.
---
But peace never stayed long in Ashrock.
Two days later, Kainat called him in a panic.
"Turn on the TV," she said. Her voice was shaking.
On screen, a man in a crisp white kurta sat in front of the local news camera.
Elegant smile. Calm eyes.
He was one of the city's most respected philanthropists — known for food drives, scholarships, and public donations.
> "It saddens me," the man said, "to see certain young groups misusing people's faith. They start kitchens not to feed, but to fool.
Let us pray the authorities take notice before charity itself loses meaning."
The audience clapped politely.
Ashburn just stared.
The same man had once refused to donate to their kitchen — saying he already "had his own projects."
Now he was leading the storm against them.
Kainat's voice broke through the static. "Ashburn… it's him, isn't it? The one—"
He didn't answer.
The system's screen flickered faintly in his mind:
> [Threat Detected — "The Benefactor"]
"The sweetest masks hide the darkest commerce."
Ashburn exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
The real battle, it seemed, had just begun.