Thankfully, Kain didn’t need to distract himself from not being able to take immediate action for Cherry for long.
After the train arrived at Brightstar City, both Kain and Serena left their respective private cabins and met up.
Serena followed Kain back to his home in complete silence, he was too anxious to cosplay as a good host and tour guide, while she seemed to prefer the silence anyway.
The streets of Brightstar were relatively narrow, and everything was within an hour’s walk of each other, therefore cars were not very common.
Given the strength of their bodies as beast-tamers ,and that the orphanage was only a 30-minute walk for even an ordinary person, they would usually choose to walk the distance, but Kain wanted to get back home as soon as possible. Therefore, he called 2 of his Vespid guards to carry him and Serena at their fastest speed back to the orphanage.
The winding road to New Beginning’s Orphanage was as familiar to Kain as the lines on his palms. Yet, as they drew closer, an unexpected tightness gripped his chest. Serena rode on the guard beside him, her gaze forward but unreadable, the occasional flicker of curiosity crossing her otherwise cold demeanour.
When they reached the property gate, Kain’s pulse quickened. The orphanage stood there, nestled amid the trees, the same as always—yet subtly transformed due to the increasingly better conditions his and Bridge’s awakening had for the orphanage.
The fence surrounding the property was no longer the rickety structure he’d grown up with; it was new, freshly painted white, and sturdy enough to keep even the most adventurous children from sneaking out.
The house itself had undergone a quiet transformation. Much of the chipped and weathered paint he remembered had been replaced, the walls now gleaming with a warm, soft yellow hue that seemed to radiate comfort.
The playground he’d requested shortly after entering Dark Moon college, funded by the money he sent home, was no longer just an idea; it stood proudly near the side of the house. Slides, swings, and even a climbing structure glittered in the sunlight filtering through the surrounding fruit trees. Beneath the branches of a pear tree, small benches and picnic tables had been placed.
But the joy and pride he might have felt at these improvements was swallowed by an ominous silence. The usual chorus of laughter, the spirited arguments of children, and Cherry’s unmistakably boisterous voice were absent. The house that was usually a bustle of activity was now dead silent.
The two stepped into the yard, and the air seemed heavier with each step. Kain’s boots crunched against the gravel path leading to the front door, a sound that felt deafening in the absence of the usual chaos.
Even though the house looked livelier than ever, it felt lifeless now. The fruit trees bore ripe apples and pears, but there were no tiny hands reaching up to pluck them. No impromptu games were being played in the yard. Only the rustling of leaves filled the stillness.
As they reached the steps of the porch, Kain stopped and glanced at Serena. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a knowing sadness in her eyes. After all, while caring for Bridge previously she had heard him retell stories about the members of the orphanage and knew that this silence was atypical.
The front door creaked open before they could knock. A familiar figure stepped out—the orphanage director. His lined face was etched with exhaustion and warm brown eyes dulled with worry.
“Kain,” the director said, his deep voice cracking. “You’re finally here.”
Kain nodded, swallowing hard. The director’s gaze shifted to Serena, lingering briefly before a flicker of curiosity crossed his face.
“And this is…?”
“A friend,” Kain said quickly. “Someone who wants to help.”
The director’s lips pressed into a tight line, and he nodded. “Come in. We need all the help we can get.”
As they stepped inside, the warm smell of freshly baked bread and lavender cleaner filled the air, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere. The walls were still decorated with the children’s drawings—something that hadn’t changed—but the vibrant interior seemed muted now.
“I’m glad you’re back, all of the children look up to you so much, and watching you compete nationally has filled them all with a sense of pride. You should hear them boasting around town about how their older brother is one of the strongest people in the world.” The orphanage director spoke to try and lift the heavy atmosphere, but a deep sadness marred the smile he was forcefully making.
“With you back, the children will feel more secure and hopeful that we will find Cherry. Her disappearance has shaken all of them. All of
us
. The kids are terrified. They barely play anymore. And I…”
The words hung heavily in the air.
Kain’s jaw tightened as guilt clawed at him. He thought sending money had been enough, but given that the strongest individuals in the city were now weaker than him, he hadn’t thought that his family would need any protection—that was an oversight on his part and something he should have thought about when reporters were previously hounding his family after the reveal of the Gilded Serafin.
“Where was she last seen?” Serena asked, her tone direct but not unkind.
“In the middle of the city. In the middle of a crowd, she just suddenly up and vanished when she went travelling in a group with the others.”
Kain clenched his fists. “Did anything strange happen before she went missing? Anyone new around? Anything unusual?”
The director hesitated, his brows furrowing. “There were rumours,” he said slowly. “Some of the kids at Cherry’s school had been going missing, and you know Cherry…she can’t have a mystery in front of her and not try to get to the bottom of it.”
Kain couldn’t help gripping his hair in exasperation, having a sinking feeling that she got involved in something that she shouldn’t.
“If kids are going missing, she should leave it to the adults! What was she hoping to accomplish as an 11-year-old with no strength?!” He screamed in anger, but most of it was targeted at himself.
“Thankfully, Cherry had a habit of writing down anything of interest in her journals…we’ll start there,” Kain said before leading the way down the familiar hallways to the room shared by the two oldest girls—the 11-year-old Cherry and the 13-year-old Jasmine.