The next day was Saturday. Shea prepared to visit the orphanage in the Slums to see the little ones.

"Not even a hundred gold coins? So stingy."

Shea was still a bit sore about last night’s incident. But since it was money she’d tried to extort anyway, not getting it wasn’t *that* disappointing.

Still—Nina, seriously? How could she not recharge her alarm when it ran out of power?

Good thing Shea had noticed. She’d remind her properly when school resumed on Monday. How could a girl lack such basic safety sense?

At a roadside stall—a familiar spot—Shea planned to buy some simple snacks.

"Xiao Ya, off to visit the Orphan Haven again?"

An elderly white-haired man spoke, his back bent over a cart piled with candied haw. Every fruit imaginable was skewered and glazed. Though small, his stall was beloved by local kids.

Shea had been no exception as a child.

"Grandpa Aiweng, ten different candied haws please. Oh, and one extra hawthorn one."

"Heh, your taste never changes, my dear. I’ll pick the longest one for you."

Kind-eyed Grandpa Aiweng packed her order into a bag. As he handed it over, he began preparing a fresh hawthorn skewer just for her.

Shea didn’t haggle. These elderly vendors struggled enough—their profits barely covered daily needs. She’d never be heartless enough to haggle over survival money.

After paying promptly, she chatted idly.

"Business is good today, Grandpa. Your cart’s almost empty."

"Well…" Aiweng threaded fruit onto a stick as he explained. "This morning, a group of men in black suits bought out many stalls around here. Mine included."

"Men in black suits?"

Shea frowned. That was big-city attire. Nobles in her backwater town wouldn’t be caught dead in such clothes.

"Yeah. One had white hair—you could tell she was filthy rich and powerful."

Aiweng’s words sent a chill through Shea. She grabbed her bag and turned to leave.

"Xiao Ya! Your candied haw!"

"I’ll get it later. Keep it aside."

Shea raced toward the orphanage, forgetting even to disguise herself. Her lavish clothes drew hungry stares along the muddy path.

*White hair…*

That color always brought one person to mind: her trashy little sister.

Rora.

Unlike Shea, Rora couldn’t shift between night and day forms. She remained a Nightshade Catfolk year-round.

Shea turned human by day—black-haired, ordinary. Only at night did she transform.

The difference was stark. Truthfully, Shea was the defective one. Rora was the pureblood.

*Please don’t be you… Rora.*

Shea sprinted through the rain-slicked mud, praying silently.

The orphanage stood empty. The ramshackle house had been cleared out. Even the signboard was gone, leaving only hollow rooms behind.

Silence replaced the usual laughter. Rusty, broken equipment made the place feel haunted.

"They left in a hurry," Shea murmured, stepping inside. Belongings lay scattered—abandoned mid-pack. Why flee so suddenly?

She picked up a torn doll from the floor. It belonged to Hanna, a little girl who never let it out of her sight.

Yet here it lay, forgotten.

Had those men in black forced everyone away?

*Creak.*

A wooden door opened behind her. A man in black entered, watching her silently.

Shea turned. "Who are you? Sent by Rora?"

"Yes. Miss Rora dispatched us. We relocated the Orphan Haven’s residents."

He stated it flatly, as if discussing stray pets.

*Hmph.* Shea swallowed her fury. "Are they safe?"

The scene screamed coercion. These people hadn’t left willingly.

"They’re safe, Miss Shea. Time was short—we couldn’t let them pack much. And don’t be angry. The matron agreed."

His tone was ice-cold, bureaucratic. Whether that "agreement" was voluntary, Shea would never know.

"Why do this?"

"Miss Rora’s orders. We obey. The children will go to Stormhaven City. Their lives will improve."

Shea clenched her fists. She wanted nothing more than to storm Stormhaven and thrash that sister of hers.

But Rora’s talent surpassed hers. Noble resources had sharpened her strength far beyond Shea’s reach.

Even this black-clad man radiated Crescent Moon Rank power—a level Shea could never challenge.

"I must take my leave, Miss Shea. Wishing you well."

He bowed stiffly, exited, and vanished down the road.

Shea stood alone in the hollow shell of the orphanage, loneliness and helplessness crushing her chest.

*Maybe… Matron truly wanted a better life for her children.*

"Time to go home."

She pulled a candied haw from her bag and bit into it. It tasted anything but sweet. Just numbness.

This wasn’t the first time.

That sister of hers loved stealing Shea’s belongings—and her memories.

Always had.

---

Meanwhile, the departing man in black pulled a letter from his coat. The orphanage matron’s note for Shea.

He activated his comm device. "Miss Rora. What shall I do with this letter?"

"Burn it."

Flames crisped the paper to ash.