Imperial Capital.
South Suburb, orphanage.
A dozen or so children were tangled up and rolling about on the playground. Some were choking each other's necks, others were grabbing each other's hair, and yet others were resorting to biting.
Fighting.
And it was a group fight.
Group fights were not uncommon in the orphanage. Sometimes it was over a coveted toy, other times it was for a piece of slightly worn clothing, and most of the time it was to snatch a steamed bun.
As long as they didn't make too much noise, the teachers and volunteers usually didn't pay much attention to these incidents.
A boy, about ten years old, stood with his hands behind his back, silently watching the chaotic scene before him. His pure eyes were like violets encased in ice and snow, cold and enchanting.
Anyone who saw the boy's eyes would be unable to look away, marveling at what kind of child he was, for it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he had stepped straight out of a comic book.
