As Evan's parents vanished into the night, the orphanage staff hurried to clean the child, bathing him gently in warm water and feeding him milk to soothe his cries.
Inside the security room, the orphanage caretaker played back the footage, hoping to catch a glimpse of the child's parents. But the camera only captured a fleeting image—barely more than a blur. Their faces were obscured, rendering the footage virtually useless.
Still, the mother's visible distress before she left touched something in him. It wasn't abandonment out of coldness—it was desperation. A threat loomed. That alone was enough for him to make a difficult decision.
With a sigh, he deleted the footage, fearing that if the parents ever returned and discovered its existence, it could endanger the child even further.
At the same time, his wife had begun to discard the blanket the child had been wrapped in when something crinkled beneath the folds. A hidden slip of paper—an old letter, yellowed at the edges.
Her eyes widened. She unfolded it hastily and, after a quick read, rushed to her husband.
"This was with him," she said, holding out the letter. "It looks like... it's from his father."
The man took it silently, his expression solemn as he read:
Dear Orphanage Director,
With profound regret, I am forced to leave my child in your care. We are being hunted by high-ranking officials, and for the sake of my son's safety, he must be kept far from our troubles. I trust that you will raise him with kindness and guide him toward a righteous path.
If fate allows, we will return for him when the time is right. I beg you—please keep this letter hidden from him. The truth of his abandonment would only bring him sorrow.
As a token of my gratitude, I have left a donation in the garden. Please accept it, and forgive me for vanishing into the night.
The director exhaled slowly. He understood everything now. With a heavy heart, he moved to the fireplace and burned the letter, scattering its ashes into the embers.
But his wife had already dashed outside, searching the garden in the dark. At first, she found nothing. Her heart sank.
Then, just as she turned to leave, her eyes caught something unusual—a small card tucked behind the flower vase near the main entrance. She picked it up. It was a sleek, metallic money card, and attached to it was a handwritten note detailing the amount and account information.
Her jaw dropped.
Ten thousand Dracins.
A staggering amount—equivalent to ten million Dragon Points. Her mind reeled.
{Author's Note: This story exists in the same universe as my main series, so yes, the currency here is the same. You'll learn more about the world's history in the other story, don't worry!}
Her eyes flicked side to side. No one had seen her. Clutching the card, she returned to her husband, who was just finishing cleaning the ashes.
"Look! The letter was true!" she exclaimed. "Ten thousand Dracins! Do you know what we can do with this kind of money? His parents must've been rich nobles!"
Her mind began racing with thoughts of long-abandoned dreams now within reach.
But the director's expression remained composed. "No, dear," he said calmly. "This isn't our personal wealth. It's meant for the orphanage and the children. I'll continue to support your wishes with my salary—as I always have."
Though a flicker of temptation stirred in him, too, he grounded himself in his responsibility. His voice carried quiet resolve.
She pouted at first but slowly nodded.
"Fine," she relented. "But since sixty percent of your income always went to the orphanage, I'll start using that portion for myself—until this donation runs out."
The director chuckled softly. "Deal."
Later, after tucking Evan into the nursery among the other infants, he instructed the night caretaker to keep an eye on the child in case he woke during the night.
Then, he retired to bed beside his wife.
Meanwhile, far away from the warmth of the orphanage, two shadows emerged from a narrow tunnel cloaked in darkness.
Jake and Jenny stumbled out, their clothes damp and their expressions weary—they had just escaped through one of the city's old drainage tunnels.
"So this was our grand escape plan? Through the city's sewer?" Jenny wrinkled her nose, clearly revolted. "Ugh. It stinks in here!"
Jake smirked. "Sorry, Jen. It's the only path that lets us leave undetected."
They bickered as they moved forward, their banter lightening the tension between them. Eventually, a sliver of light appeared in the distance.
Jenny, fed up with the filth and stench, squealed with joy and sprinted toward it—only to smack face-first into a cold, metallic surface.
"Ow! What the hell did I just run into?!"
Jake burst out laughing and walked up beside her. "Seriously? Can't you see there's a gate?"
The exit was a rusted maintenance door secured with a flimsy old lock. With one solid strike from his flashlight, Jake broke it open, and the pair finally stepped into the fresh air.
Jenny inhaled deeply, her eyes adjusting to the faint moonlight.
They were in a jungle, several kilometers outside the city walls.
"Are we safe now?" she asked, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.
"Not yet. We need to cross the Dragon Kingdom's border. Once we're past that, we can sneak into a neighboring city."
With that, they set off into the jungle. Step by step, they left the city—and their son—behind.
Jake paused, turning for one last look at the distant skyline.
"Please be safe, son," he whispered. "We'll come back for you."
And with that, he followed Jenny into the night.
__
Will they escape safely and reunite with their son someday?Leave your thoughts in the comments, and don't forget to add this story to your library to follow Evan's journey!