In the orphanage garden, children ran around, laughing brightly.
It was a morning that looked peaceful and warm to anyone.
This place—the **Selen Lian Orphanage**—
was run under the pretense of sheltering war orphans and children of unknown origin.
The building was clean, and the sisters were kind.
Now and then, noble ladies would stop by, hand out bread, and say,
“May these children be adopted into good homes.”
On the surface··· that was true.
◇
A room with the door shut and the curtains drawn.
A woman in a nun’s habit spread two documents on the desk.
“Pending adoption.
Eleven-year-old boy. No notable issues.
And a ten-year-old boy··· shows a mana response.”
“You’re sending both? That’s pretty fast this time.”
“There was a request from above.
- ··A child who can handle mana has high market value. If it sells well, it’s several times the profit.”
“Are we bundling him with a cleanup case?”
“Quietly. Don’t draw attention.”
Several children’s profiles were scattered across the desk.
Estimated birth year, physical metrics, emotional responses, mana measurements···
Rather than “protected children,”
they looked far closer to inventory sheets.
“Move dinner up a bit today.
There’s an adoption event.”
“Yes. We’ll finish before sunset.”
Outside, the children’s laughter could still be heard.
But that laughter was nothing more than··· right before shipment···
the sound of merchandise after its final inspection.
◇
That evening,
the dinner bell rang a little earlier than usual.
The dining hall was filled with delicious smells,
and the sisters smiled as they said,
“Today, we have something to celebrate.
Two children are going to good homes.”
“Who is it? Another adoption?”
“Two at once? That’s fast this month.”
“Is it you, Rynel?”
Rynel shook his head quietly, as if he didn’t understand.
The eleven-year-old boy beside him grinned and raised his hand.
“Me··· and him.”
He pointed his chin at Rynel.
“Really?”
“Wow, congratulations!”
“Write us a letter! I’m seriously curious!”
The dining hall filled with applause and laughter.
Dinner was far better than usual.
Chicken, warm soup, even a slice of cake.
The sisters were unfailingly kind,
and the children looked on with genuine envy.
Rynel knew.
There was nothing fake in their congratulations.
But···
something felt wrong.
As he set his utensils down, Rynel’s gaze drifted
to a sister standing at the far end by the window.
She subtly avoided his eyes.
“You should be happy, Rynel.”
The boy being adopted with him smiled.
“Once we’re out, maybe we’ll live like nobles.”
“···Aren’t you scared?”
“Why? Everyone goes to a good place. Letters come back, too.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
At that,
Rynel paused.
Letters···?
Up to now,
he had never received a single letter.
The sun was setting.
Soon, the “adoption ceremony” would begin.
And Rynel—
he couldn’t explain it in words, but
he could feel it clearly.
Something···
something wrong was coming closer.
◇
Night fell completely,
and the orphanage yard sank into darkness.
A single black carriage had arrived at the front gate.
A glossy body, finely decorated harness,
and a man standing beside it.
He looked like a noble.
A long coat, a silver brooch, flawless gloves.
An expressionless face,
eyes gleaming coldly.
Inside the orphanage,
two children were changing clothes.
A freshly pressed shirt and coat.
Not luxurious, but
prepared for a “special day.”
Rynel fidgeted with his collar.
It didn’t fit him well,
and the color was awkward.
But the sister’s hands were
careful··· and quiet.
Mechanical motions and silence
clung to her fingertips.
“Be good when you get there!”
“You have to write letters! Promise!”
Children crowded around to congratulate them.
They hugged arms, waved, and laughed.
That laughter
held only innocent inexperience.
“Get in. They’re waiting.”
A sister spoke softly from behind.
Rynel, expressionless,
climbed the carriage steps.
Behind him,
the eleven-year-old boy followed, smiling.
“Do you think we’re really going somewhere good?”
◇
Inside the carriage, it was quiet and tidy.
Dark leather seats, a fixed light-stone,
a scent that felt unfamiliar.
The carriage on the dirt road barely shook,
and only the steady sound of hooves echoed from afar.
Nothing seemed particularly strange.
Except···
the scenery outside the window flowed by faster than expected.
“We’re really going somewhere good, right?”
the boy asked again.
“A huge house like the royal palace, with servants and all···”
“That’d be nice.”
Rynel answered shortly.
And as he did, he brought a hand to his face,
rubbing his eyes without meaning to.
It was warm inside the carriage.
Yet his body grew drowsier and drowsier.
He wasn’t tired,
but his eyelids felt heavy.
‘···Magic?’
Rynel thought.
He didn’t feel any clear mana reaction.
Maybe it was just fatigue.
But···
something was off.
The boy beside him
had already slumped forward, asleep.
Rynel leaned back as well
and closed his eyes.
And then—
he couldn’t open them again.
His consciousness
quietly sank into darkness.
◇
- ··How long had it been?
In the dark,
someone coughed.
Rough,
broken, as if soaked in fear.
Rynel slowly opened his eyes.
He couldn’t see a ceiling.
Instead—
rusted bars,
and a hazy, fog-like stench.
The moment he tried to move—
*Click.*
Metal rang at his wrists and ankles.
And around his neck,
a cold, heavy sensation.
A strange metal collar.
He turned his head slowly.
The light wasn’t from a window—
it was from a faint light-stone
seeping through the crack of a tall iron door.
“You awake?”
A strange voice came
from the shadows.
Beyond the bars,
a boy sat in the corner.
He looked about the same age.
But his eyes···
were far deeper and heavier than his years.
Rynel
couldn’t say anything.
His neck was stiff,
his tongue dried out, stuck
inside his mouth.
When he drew in a sharp breath,
his stomach lurched.
The smell of iron.
Mold.
And wounds.
This wasn’t
the safe, comfortable orphanage anymore.
He looked around.
There were several children
in the same situation as him.
A child lying still with eyes closed.
A child with their head against the wall, muttering to themselves.
A child with dead eyes,
staring only at the ceiling.
In this place,
words, names—
even the feeling of “I want to live”
seemed to have vanished.
“···Where is this?”
Rynel’s voice
came out cracked.
The boy answered.
Beyond the bars,
his voice was flat.
“You’re waiting for classification.”
“If you’ve got enough value,
you get sent somewhere.
If not··· the lab.”
“······What?”
“You look like you’ve got mana, so
maybe you’ll be fine.”
There was no emotion
in the boy’s tone.
Like he’d been through it dozens—
no, hundreds of times.
To him, this wasn’t an “incident.”
It was just “normal.”
Rynel twisted his wrists.
The chains were solid,
and the suppressor at his neck
continued to hum with a faint vibration.
That vibration
pressed into him,
turning into pain.
With every breath,
his body reminded him
he was completely controlled.
“···The kid who came with me··· where is he?”
“They dragged him to the next sector.
His eyes were bright.
Must’ve looked useful.”
“···What?”
“If he’s lucky, he goes to a training facility to be raised as a spy.
If not···”
The boy
didn’t finish.
Instead,
he closed his eyes quietly.
There’s no name here. No purpose.
No life.
Only one thing remains.
Usefulness.
That was the standard
used to “classify” people here.
◇
The iron door opened.
The scrape of heavy metal.
The dull footsteps of old shoes.
“Number 11. Get up.”
One child stood quietly.
Head lowered,
pulled away without a word.
Here,
no one cried.
There was no room to cry.
No emotion left to cry with.
This was a place where it had all been thrown away.
Rynel
watched that back disappear.
The chain around his wrists
swung softly.
The suppressor at his neck
hummed faintly with his breath.
Now he understood.
What “classification” meant.
It wasn’t a choice.
It was selection.
The handlers
approached the children.
They pressed a crystal wand
to the back of their necks.
*Zzzzt.*
“This one goes to the espionage training facility.”
“That one’s for disposal.”
Calmly.
Too familiarly.
“···Next. Number 14.”
Someone spoke at the iron door.
It was Rynel’s number.
He
slowly rose.
The chain dragged along his arms,
heavy with sound.
“Lift your head.”
A handler stepped close.
The thin crystal wand
touched the back of his neck.
At first,
there was no reaction.
Silence passed.
Then—
the wand trembled faintly.
*Zzzzt···*
There was vibration,
but no light.
“···No response to natural elements.”
“Output reading is high. Attribute classification impossible.”
“Suppressor interference? No··· the density is consistent.”
The handler’s fingers
paused.
Like a mechanic
staring at a part that had been fitted wrong.
“Record it. Grade on hold.
Request separate classification!”
On the slate,
Rynel’s number was written.
And over it,
a thick red line
was drawn—slash.
Rynel
stood still.
His heart didn’t race.
He didn’t even feel himself going cold.
From far away, a whisper-like thought drifted in.
‘Did I get sold?’
That alone
explained reality now.
◇
A narrow, dark room.
No window,
only a single light-stone flickering.
The iron door was locked,
and the chains were fastened again.
The suppressor at his neck
still rasped with metallic friction.
“Isolation.”
It was an unfamiliar word.
But the atmosphere alone
made it clear it wasn’t anything good.
From beyond the door,
faint voices could be heard.
“This one··· is a bit unusual.”
“Yeah. No elemental response, but the numbers are strangely high.
It even exceeded the suppressor threshold.”
“As long as it doesn’t blow up like last time,
it’s not bad merchandise.”
‘Blow up?’
Rynel
listened quietly,
to every single word.
“The broker’s side is interested, too.
If it’s a special specimen,
five times the standard price or more.”
“I heard the royal side’s been looking for kids lately as well.
For experiments, or for assassins—whatever.”
“···Better not touch it directly.
Politics can bite back if you mess with it.”
And then—
laughter.
That laughter
held no weight, no responsibility.
What they saw
wasn’t a person.
Merchandise.
Material.
Parts.
That was all.
Rynel breathed quietly.
He can’t escape.
He knows that.
But···
he can’t stay like this, either.
Like when he first learned “sadness,”
something in the center of his chest
began to twist—quietly.
◇
Time flowed in silence.
Only the flicker cycle of the light-stone
marked the passing.
Rynel sat on the floor,
knees hugged to his chest.
The chain at his wrists pressed cold,
and the suppressor at his neck, with every inhale,
tightened faintly.
His body was fine, but
his mind felt··· misaligned.
He didn’t hate this place, exactly—
but he didn’t want to remain here.
He didn’t have a name for that feeling yet,
but it was clear:
something was going wrong.
Then—
somewhere in his mind, a “fragment” broke loose.
Fire.
Collapsing buildings.
Screams.
And—
black wings.
A short but vivid afterimage.
Rynel stopped breathing,
clutching his chest.
“······What is this.”
Something inside him began to throb.
No—beat.
Something was waking up.
Something that had slept for a very long time,
deep inside darkness.
“What, again··· that dream?”
Rynel muttered quietly.
This wasn’t the first time.
Whenever his emotions turned chaotic,
those incomprehensible scenes surfaced.
Shattered memories—
but sensations that were far too vivid.
Like they weren’t his memories,
but someone else’s.
In that moment—
the door rattled open.
Two people entered.
Blank eyes.
Black cloaks.
“Number 14. Moving. Follow.”
The chains were undone.
But it wasn’t freedom—
only “room” to move.
Rynel rose quietly.
As he stepped forward, he thought—
This time···
where are they taking me?