"Dinner's ready."
At the caregiver's flat announcement, Alan, who had just returned from school, walked quietly into the dining room.
Calling it a dining room was a stretch; it was merely a dilapidated room with a large table and a few benches. The walls were mottled with mold, and the peeling wallpaper spoke of years of neglect.
What era was this building from, anyway? Victorian? Or perhaps even older.
This had been Alan's home for several years.
The food on the table was the same as always: pasta with a tiny bit of meat sauce, cheap mass-purchased sausages, and a large helping of mashed potatoes and onions. To be fair, the taste wasn't bad. At least Alan didn't hate it. The price of food doesn't always reflect its quality.
Alan walked unhurriedly to his usual corner seat and sat down. Just as he settled in, the sound of messy footsteps echoed from a distance, getting closer.
A tall, thin boy with hair the color of withered straw practically rushed in. He glanced at Alan out of habit, then plopped down on the bench diagonally opposite, his eyes darting quickly between the food items.
He's starving, Alan thought.
Then the other children filed in one after another. There were about ten of them, ranging in age from six or seven to fourteen or fifteen. One of the older children even had a hideous scar on his face.
When everyone was seated, the caregiver's voice rang out again. "Eat."
The clatter of utensils and the sound of chewing followed, accompanied by quiet chatter. Probably because the summer holidays had arrived, the children were all in a good mood.
Alan picked up his fork and unhurriedly stirred the thick glob of mashed potatoes on his plate.
School, eating, sleeping. This was his daily routine—unchanging and utterly boring.
He hated being bored.
As for why he was living this way, it was because this was a children's home located in the suburbs of London. A government-established institution specifically for housing homeless children.
Alan was one of those children. He had no other choice.
Counting it up, this was already his eleventh year in this world. Yes, Alan was not native to this world. He came from a certain great Eastern nation in the twenty-first century. And this year, if he remembered correctly, should be 1991.
An unfamiliar place, an unfamiliar time.
"It's still going to be a long time..."
Thinking this, Alan sighed silently. In this life, he had just celebrated his eleventh birthday—a very awkward age. Although he possessed knowledge beyond this era, he was still just a child. With such a small body, there was almost no room to maneuver. The only thing he could do for now was to grow up safely to adulthood. After that, he believed that with his knowledge, while he might not become fabulously wealthy, a bright future was certainly foreseeable.
After dinner, the children returned to their rooms. Although this children's home was old, the space was quite spacious. Thanks to that, their dormitories were shared by two people.
"I really wish we could have something else to eat. Why can't they make some cake or something?"
As soon as Alan entered the door, the yellow-haired boy who had been at the dining table earlier immediately spoke to him. This was his roommate.
"Be glad there's anything to eat at all, Scott," Alan replied casually. Without even changing his clothes, he climbed onto the top bunk and lay down.
Scott's complaints weren't wrong. Dinner at this children's home was basically the same set every night: cheap and filling. Half a year ago, there had been some variety, but ever since the caregivers were changed a few times, it had become like this. It didn't matter much to Alan, though. You couldn't expect the caregivers in a children's home full of problem children to be very dedicated or responsible. They might even quit after less than two weeks. Besides, at least their meals at school were guaranteed. At times like this, he was grateful for the help from society and the government.
"Oh, right," Scott kicked the foot of the bed out of boredom. "Which secondary school are you going to?"
"Northwood Comprehensive Secondary School." Alan rested his hands behind his head, staring at a crack in the ceiling, and yawned.
"Ah, I knew it." Scott exclaimed with an "as expected" tone. "That's the best school. Your grades are definitely good enough to go there."
There was no jealousy in his tone because it was already a foregone conclusion. In this children's home, Alan was already a unique existence. He could always quietly finish reading those thick, headache-inducing books, and the As on his homework were always more frequent than anyone else's.
"Mm," Alan hummed vaguely, humoring his roommate.
Studying was probably the only thing he could do right now. Not just for a brighter future, but more importantly, he could also get extra scholarships. While a single scholarship didn't amount to much, if accumulated, the figure would be quite considerable. When the time came, whether for investment or university, it would be a crucial startup fund. Alan didn't hate studying. Reading was also one of the great pleasures of his life. Incidentally, he felt that with his current learning progress, he wouldn't have any problem going straight to university.
Clang!
While Scott was still muttering about wanting to eat cake, a loud noise suddenly came from the direction of the window. The window, which had been loose to begin with, was blown open by a gust of wind, slamming hard against the wall. The glass vibrated with a tooth-aching sound.
Obviously, Scott, who was on the bottom bunk and near the window, was better suited to handle this than Alan.
"Dammit." He irritably scratched his yellow hair and walked to the window. "This crappy window has broken three times this week. It gets fixed then breaks, breaks then fixed. No one cares at all..."
"Uh, what is this..."
What followed was the sound of wings flapping.
Then: "Alan, there's a letter for you."
Alan immediately leaned out from the top bunk.
Scott was standing there dumbfounded, holding what looked like a very thick envelope, with a "what just happened" expression on his face.
"You might not believe me if I say it, Alan," he said blankly, "but a cat with wings just threw this through the window."
A cat with wings?
Alan's heart skipped a beat. He immediately jumped down from the bed and quickly took the envelope from Scott's hand.
It was a heavy parchment envelope with a slightly yellowed, old-fashioned tone that gave it a very high-quality feel. Clearly a premium item.
Alan flipped it over briefly. On the envelope was a line of text written in emerald green ink.
No. 34 Ashley Street, Ashley Children's Home, Second Floor East Dormitory, Top Bunk by the Window, To Mr. Alan Black
Besides that, on the back of the envelope was a large blob of thick, dark red wax, clearly impressed with a shield-shaped crest. In the center of the crest were four animals: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. They collectively surrounded an exquisite letter H.
Without a second word, Alan tore open the envelope.
Seeing that Alan hadn't moved for a long time, Scott leaned over curiously. "What is it? Who wrote to you? That symbol looks really weird..."
Alan was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke. "Scott, I might not be able to go to Northwood Comprehensive Secondary School anymore."
"What?"
//===================//