“Sir, please wait!”
It was a girl. Young, maybe around Jasmine’s age, standing in the middle of the street, looking frantic.
“H-Have you seen my kid?”
Malik blinked.
“…You have a kid? You?”
She immediately shook her head.
“I—I said that wrong. I meant the orphanage kids.”
“Oh.”
That made more sense.
“They lost?”
“Yes… but it’s, uh, complicated.”
Malik crossed his arms.
“I see.”
He looked away, already guessing what this was about, and it sounded like a hassle.
“Sorry, but I haven’t seen any kids, and I’ve got things to do.”
He turned to leave, but she grabbed his wrist.
“You look like you’re super bored! Don’t lie! I saw you just wandering around!”
Malik raised a brow.
“Rude. That’s not how you talk to someone you want to hire.”
“H-Hire?!”
“Yeah. You think I’d do this for free? I’m no Faraja, you know. Actually, why don’t you just go ask them for help?”
She bit her lip.
“They’re not gonna listen to what a kid has to say.”
“Lies…”
Malik muttered, scanning her face.
“Since you can’t rely on them, does it relate to your church?”
The girl looked down, hands gripping the hem of her tunic.
“…That’s what I think.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples.
‘Not the first time I’ve heard this story… shit was common back in Zawaya.’
Malik weighed his options.
“If I agree to help you, that might come back to bite my employer. I can’t have that. I’m sorry.”
The girl’s face crumpled, her eyes welling up with tears.
“Please! I’ll pay you every coin I have! I’ll give you a cloak! Right! A mask—you won’t be seen!”
Malik looked up and closed his eyes.
‘When did I become this jaded? Didn’t I wish to help people like her?… But…’
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Even seeing her tremble, hearing her voice break, didn’t stir anything in him.
He looked back down.
“I’m sorry…”
Her face fell.
“I still can’t—”
Before he could finish, Layla slammed into him from behind, nearly knocking him forward.
“We agree!”
Malik stepped away and turned to look down at her with a blank stare.
“Ah, I thought I’d surprise you.”
“No, I heard you. I just chose to ignore you.”
She shook her head and met his eyes, unfazed.
“Never mind that. You weren’t going to give up on kids, were you?”
Malik waved her off.
‘I was going to do exactly that.’
He thought it but didn’t say it.
Instead, he reached down and lightly tapped the girl’s head.
“You heard her. We’ll do it.”
The girl’s face lit up.
“T-Thank you so much!”
She jumped in place, beaming, and threw her arms around him in a hug.
Malik didn’t react. He just let her do what she wanted, while Layla watched with an expression that looked suspiciously like jealousy.
After that, they walked down another part of the village, the girl leading the way.
“I’m Huda by the way! What’s your name mister?”
He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning her from top to bottom.
She had black hair and brown eyes, not the crimson he’d never forget, yet he couldn’t deny that Huda would be around her age by now…
Still, there was no way it could be her, right?
‘No. It can’t be.’
***
{Outside The Projection}
They all turned to Huda, their gazes practically screaming a question, the obvious one.
She felt their stares but refused to meet them, her head locked to the projection, a sad smile on her face.
“The second time we met was in our manor’s mansion.”
Patting Crimson’s fluff, she buried her face in it, letting his warmth settle her nerves.
‘He still remembers me!’
She didn’t want the others to notice that she was happy. Giddy even.
She didn’t want the others to notice how her heart squeezed at the thought.
How her eyes teared up.
“Hehehe…”
***
{Inside The Projection}
“Twelve children…”
Huda’s voice was steady now as she explained the situation.
“All gone after being ‘baptized’ by our church.”
Malik clicked his tongue.
“Yeah. Too many to be counted as lost. Definitely kidnapped. The church sold them off.”
She nodded grimly.
“Yes. That’s what we think.”
“Any witnesses?”
“None… unfortunately.”
As she answered, they reached the orphanage.
It was an old building, its stone walls worn and weathered, but it stood strong.
Children played in the courtyard, their laughter ringing through the air, unaware of the fate of the ones who had vanished.
The head of the orphanage—a priest—greeted them at the entrance, his smile welcoming.
“Come in, come in!”
He opened the door.
“You must be tired from your travels. Join us for a meal.”
Malik didn’t hesitate and stepped inside.
“Sure.”
The priest’s smile didn’t waver, but there was something behind it now—a little more weight. Like he expected that answer but was still measuring Malik with his eyes.
“Good… That’s very good.”
…
Malik sat cross-legged on the floor, glancing at the plates set before them.
‘I’ve seen worse.’
The meal consisted of roasted desert critters—beetles, scorpions, something that looked like centipedes but fatter—alongside a thin, grainy porridge. A few strips of dried meat, possibly jerky, were laid on the side. It all smelled… earthy.
It wasn’t exactly a feast, but it was food. More than good enough for a man like him.
Layla, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to throw up.
She stared at the plate, then at Malik, then back at the plate.
Her face twisted.
“You’re actually going to eat this?”
Malik picked up a beetle, cracked the shell, and popped it into his mouth like it was nothing.
The crunch was loud.
Layla recoiled.
“Oh, Hell no.”
The priest sitting across from them let out a chuckle.
“You must learn to appreciate all that God has given us, young lady. Nothing goes to waste here.”
Malik chewed, swallowed, and gave a shrug.
“Not bad.”
Layla’s face turned green.
“That’s disgusting.”
“You should’ve seen me in the first layer then. Almost died. No food. Just water.”
He picked up another beetle, turning it over between his fingers.
“Ended up eating roots and raw critters. Tasted way worse than this.”
Layla gawked at him.
“You ate them RAW?!”
Malik nodded and bit into it.
“Didn’t know cooking made this much of a difference.”
The priest laughed again, somehow already clearing half his plate.
“You have the heart of a survivor, young man. I like that.”
Layla whispered in horror, nudging his leg under the table:
“You can’t actually expect me to eat this!”
He looked at her, raising a brow.
“Yeah.”
“But—it’s bugs.”
He popped a third beetle into his mouth.
“And?”
“Bleh…”
She gagged.
The priest chuckled, watching the exchange.
“You should listen to your friend. There are many here who don’t have the luxury of turning down a meal.”
Malik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded.
“At least it’s warm.”
Layla finally pushed her plate away.
“I—I think I’ll pass.”
He snorted.
“Suit yourself.”
The rest of the meal passed with idle conversation.
Unlike a certain someone, the kids ate happily, chatting about nothing in particular.
Huda stayed close, sitting beside Malik like he was some kind of protective wall.
She ate quickly but quietly, eyes flicking between him and the priest.
Eventually, with the plates all clean, the priest clapped his hands together.
“Alright, children, go play now. The adults need to talk.”
The kids groaned but obeyed, some still licking their fingers as they ran outside.
All except one. Huda.
She stayed put, hands curled into fists in her lap.
The priest looked at her, smile never fading.
“Now, now. You should go outside too.”
She didn’t move.
The priest exhaled through his nose but didn’t push further. Instead, he turned to Malik.
“So, will you help us with the children?”
Malik leaned back in his chair and glanced at Layla, who was already staring at him, waiting for his answer. She looked like she wanted to say something but held back.
He let out a slow breath.
“Depends.”
The priest tilted his head.
“On?”
“Before that, tell me, should I be calling you father?”
“No… just think of me as the priest.”
“Sure, and well… My involvement depends on how much trouble this is gonna bring.”
The priest chuckled.
“Ah, a man who thinks ahead. I respect that.”
Malik tapped his fingers against his arm.
“The girl said twelve kids disappeared after being ‘baptized.’ That’s not getting lost. That’s deliberate.”
The priest nodded.
“That’s correct.”
“And someone from the church sold them?”
The priest didn’t answer immediately.
His smile thinned, but it was still there, like a mask.
“That is what we suspect.”
“To who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Figured.”
Malik glanced at Huda.
She was staring at the table, hands gripping the fabric of her pants.
‘…I can’t leave them like this.’
He looked back at the priest.
“If I do this, I do it my way. And NO church politics.”
The priest studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Thank you.”
Layla puffed out her chest.
“See! I was correct in agreeing! This’ll be a nice little adventure!”
“…”
Malik didn’t respond to that. He just looked back at the priest.
“Do you have a map?”
The priest’s smile returned.
“…I believe I do. Let me go get it.”