I stepped onto the street, tilting my head slightly to check if Georgia was around. If she was here, I'd take a different route. No need to rub salt in the wound.
The warm scent of freshly baked bread filled my nostrils. An elderly woman, perhaps in her sixties, recognized me and offered a kind smile before returning to her work.
Thankfully, Georgia wasn't at the bakery. Maybe she's taking some time alone to calm down.
I walked past the shop, nodding politely at the old woman, while the lively sounds of street vendors and children playing catch filled the air. Beside me, Johan strode forward, his sharp gaze scanning everything with an analytical precision. I guess he's trying to understand the city better…
As we reached my house, I fished for my keys. Just then, a small girl—no older than six or seven—tugged at Johan's shirt, her frail hands shaking as she whispered for food and water. Johan froze, his face clouding with something between unease and distress.
The girl's cheeks were sunken, almost skeletal, her dark eyes dull like an eclipsed sun. She looked as if she could collapse at any moment.
Without hesitation, I unlocked the wooden double doors, which groaned softly on their hinges, and rushed to the kitchen. Grabbing the last half-loaf of bread and a jar of water—barely anything for an adult but enough to keep her alive—I hurried back outside.
Johan had crouched beside her, gently patting her dust-streaked hair, silently reassuring her. I passed him the food and water.
Chomp! Gulp! Chomp!
She ate quickly, barely chewing, using the water to force the dry bread down. Tears welled in her dark eyes, spilling down her hollow cheeks.
"Eat slowly," I cautioned, my voice gentle. "You'll choke if you rush. If you haven't eaten in a while, eating too fast can make you sick."
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
She listened, forcing herself to slow down, savoring each bite as more tears slipped down her face.
At least she's safe now… Most people would've ignored her. There are too many children like this, and if you feed every starving child you meet, you'll end up starving yourself. But we're lucky right now—James's recent promotions and frequent bonuses have kept us well-off.
Sometimes I wonder… if not for James and Clara, could I have ended up like her? Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to ignore kids like this… even if it meant going hungry for a while, I would've still helped her.
Johan, however, didn't look relieved. His frown only deepened, his expression growing darker by the second.
'Huh?' Johan's frown only grew deeper, as his face grew ugly. I turned to him, and asked, "What's wrong Johan? Wherever you came from beggars must've existed there too…"
"Of course, but… I think she's going to die soon," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a whisper only I could hear.
I stiffened. "Why would you say that? She's fine now. She has food and water—she can go to the church. They'll help her."
Johan hesitated. "No, it's not about that. It just… feels like…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Forget it. Ignore what I said." His expression turned unreadable again.
"How am I supposed to ignore that?" I pressed. "If you think something's wrong, tell me. We might be able to help her."
Before Johan could answer, the little girl finished eating. Some light returned to her eyes as she looked up at us, fresh tears spilling down her face. Then, she bowed deeply, her frail body trembling.
"Thank you… for saving me," she said in a weak, high-pitched voice. "I thought I was going to die… I had already accepted it. But I tried one last time, begging… and you saved me. Thank you…"
I knelt beside her, gently lifting her chin so she could look at me. "What's your name?"
"Aisha…"
"Aisha," I repeated, smiling. "That's a beautiful name. Now listen to me carefully. Walk straight to the church—it's only ten minutes away. Even if you have a different faith, just tell them you worship Goddess Aethira. They'll give you food three times a day, and a warm place to sleep, in return, you can help with small chores—cooking, cleaning, and caring for others like you. They'll even teach you how to read and write in Trona. Do you understand?"
She nodded firmly. "..yes"
Johan and I watched as she walked toward the crossroads, turning left in the direction of the church.
I turned to him, my eyes narrowing. "What a strange thing to say…"
He ignored my remark, suddenly looking around. "There isn't any police around like you said."
That made me freeze.
How did I not notice it before? We sent the telegraph ages ago. Shouldn't they be here by now?
Or… are they working in secret to avoid causing a panic? That would make sense. If they announced an attack, people would demand to evacuate, and there aren't enough resources for a mass evacuation. Still, it's strange… Maybe they're already nearby, just staying out of sight. Yes, that has to be it.
"Maybe they're handling it quietly," I said, glancing at Johan. "To avoid alarming people."
Johan didn't look convinced. "Maybe… but shouldn't evacuation be a priority? Someone tried to blow up the gas pipeline—there must be multiple points where they could trigger it again. The police can't possibly watch all of them at once, right?"
"You're right," I admitted. "But that's out of our control. We'll have to leave it to the professionals."
Johan was hesitant but eventually nodded.
With that, we stepped inside the house, checking if anything had changed in our absence.
Author's note: Should I message my crush today? I am confused with using Hey or Hi or hello, Hello sounds corny, Hi too casual, Hey sounds Zesty, I am so fucking confused
TYATE Extras: Trone is the official language of The Thornfeild empire, said to be around 4000 years old, It's a very popular language all over the world, but there are hundreds of different languages and tens of different accents for them. So it's most used in the Thornfield Empire, and the Aurelian Empire, Different accents based on the region people grew up in. Like in Wellington, people speak fast, and P and B are pronounced much louder, Which Leor, James, and Clara had to get used to.