Miracle’s voice reached his ears, and Grant fixed his gaze on the blue-haired, blue-eyed child before him.
The blue-haired figure gradually overlapped with the white-haired one.
"Hahahaha!" Grant laughed, then paused before saying, "If I were still a reporter, I’d definitely give you some serious coverage."
"You quit?" Lance Blue tilted his head in confusion.
"Yeah..." Grant sighed. Thinking back on the arguments he had had with his superiors over the past day or two, he could not help mourning for those who had died in the plane crash.
How deeply the people killed in that accident had trusted heroes—yet no one had expected that the heroes would abandon them. Even the air disaster had not been a natural calamity, but a man-made one!
A man-made disaster caused by the conflict between Hero Fracture and Hero Vortex.
"X is not merely the strongest hero," Grant said slowly. "It means standing at the pinnacle of the entire system, bearing every gaze and shouldering every expectation."
"I know," Lance Blue said.
"Are you sure you do?"
"I’m not sure," Lance Blue admitted. "That’s why I have to go and see."
Grant fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Come on."
He gathered up the documents on the table and flipped the whiteboard around. There was nothing but blank space on its reverse side.
He set down the folder, walked to the window, and looked out at the piles of discarded construction materials.
"I’ll take you to see her."
Lance Blue looked up.
"That cyan-haired child." Grant turned around. "Didn’t you want to know how she was doing? Seeing her with your own eyes is more direct than hearing me tell you about it or looking at photographs."
Without waiting for Lance Blue’s answer, he picked up the coat draped over the back of a chair. "Come on. It’s a bit far—District 10."
District 10? The central district of Union City...
"I’ll let Elliot know." Lance Blue used the communicator issued by the Association on his wrist to send Elliot a message.
Before long, Elliot replied with a single word: "Okay."
"Isn’t she at an orphanage?" Lance Blue suddenly asked.
He remembered Grant mentioning it.
"She’s only three years old. She’s too young. We’ll place her in an orphanage when she’s a little older," Grant said.
Hearing that, Lance Blue nodded.
.........
The car drove out of the warehouse district and merged into the traffic on the main road.
Grant drove steadily, but spoke little. Lance Blue sat in the passenger seat, watching the streetscape race past outside the window.
From District 70 to District 10, the city gradually changed in appearance. The buildings became taller and denser, the streets cleaner, and the pedestrians more formally dressed.
This was one of Union City’s higher-ranked districts, closer to the center.
Grant drove steadily, but spoke little. Lance Blue sat in the passenger seat, watching the streetscape race past outside the window. From District 70 to District 10, the city gradually changed in appearance. The buildings became taller and denser, the streets cleaner, and the pedestrians more formally dressed. This was one of Union City’s higher-ranked districts, closer to the center.
The two of them remained silently in sync throughout the drive, neither knowing what to say.
"Looking at you reminds me of my daughter," Grant broke the silence.
"I remember you mentioning that a long time ago, at the hospital."
Grant’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. "Yeah. Yvette Grant. She’s nine this year, so she should be a year younger than you."
"Does she admire heroes?"
"Not admiration," Grant corrected. "It’s her goal."
There was a complicated emotion in his voice, a mixture of pride and worry.
"She finished elementary school at seven, completed the middle-school curriculum in two years, and should be preparing for her high school entrance exam now." He glanced at the time displayed on the car’s screen.
"I’ve been a little too strict with her. I don’t know whether she can handle it psychologically." Grant sighed.
"You know? Ever since she learned that you became one of the Hero Association’s top ten at only ten years old, it was like she’d been provoked. She’s worked even harder than before, often too busy to eat."
........A high school entrance exam at nine?
Lance Blue’s vision went dark, and he stopped talking.
His academic level was probably only around the second or third grade of elementary school...
Yet someone a year younger than him was already taking her high school entrance exam.
Perhaps considering that Lance Blue had only truly begun studying at the age of ten and had studied for just two months so far, Grant spoke as if to comfort him.
"It’s fine. I can have her tutor you a little. I also think she’s under too much pressure. It would be good for her to spend time with someone her own age, and she happens to see you as the goal she wants to reach in becoming a hero."
That really hit where it hurt, Grant.
Lance Blue wanted to cry but had no tears.
.......
The car turned onto a quiet, tree-lined road.
Most of the buildings on either side were detached houses or townhouses with small gardens, entirely unlike the old apartment buildings in District 70.
"We’re here."
Grant stopped in front of a house with gray-white exterior walls. The house was not large, but it was very neat. Several low shrubs grew in the front yard, trimmed with perfect care.
Lance Blue got out of the car after Grant.
Instinctively, he looked down at his clothes—a plain blue hoodie and long pants, somewhat out of place in this environment.
The door opened.
A woman who looked to be in her fifties stood there. She wore simple loungewear and had a gentle bearing. Seeing Grant, she smiled.
"You’re here."
"Sorry to disturb you," Grant said with a nod. "Where’s the child?"
"She’s in the living room, playing with a puzzle."
Grant stepped aside to let Lance Blue enter first.
The interior was simply decorated, and the warm lighting made the space feel especially cozy.
A light-colored rug lay by the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, scattered with children’s toys and picture books.
And in the middle of the rug sat a child with her back to the door.
Cyan hair fell softly over her shoulders. With her head lowered, she was intently studying a puzzle piece in her hand, seemingly thinking about where it should go.
Lance Blue stopped walking.
He did not need emotional perception. The instant he saw that small back, an unusual sense of familiarity surged through him.
Like a lighthouse he had seen countless times from far away suddenly appearing right before his eyes.
Grant walked over to the child and crouched down, lowering his voice. "Cyan, are you playing with a puzzle?"
"I brought an older boy to see you."
Lance Blue felt a little awkward.
The girl raised her head.
Lance Blue saw her eyes—clear cyan, carrying the innocent bewilderment unique to children.
Her gaze settled on Lance Blue. She blinked. There was neither fear nor curiosity in her expression; she simply watched him quietly.
Then she raised the puzzle piece in her hand. It was a blue piece of sky.
Lance Blue walked over and crouched in front of her, maintaining a distance that would not make her feel pressured.
Lance Blue managed to squeeze out two words.
"Hello."
.......
The girl looked at him, then at the puzzle piece in her hand, and said softly:
"This doesn’t fit here."
Her voice was very quiet, carrying the soft sweetness unique to a child.
His blue hair blended into the blue puzzle piece in her hand without the slightest flaw.
She thinks I’m part of the puzzle...
Lance Blue looked at the puzzle board before her.
It was a very simple landscape: blue sky, grass, and a little house. But several pieces were missing from the sky.
Lance Blue stood up.
He looked at the child, and the vague thought in his heart became clearer.
She was alive. That was enough.
As for why she had survived, and what exactly the strange cyan color on her body was—it was probably Trust Value.
But for now, she only needed to be a child quietly playing with a puzzle.
"She’s very safe," Grant said. "Mrs. Zhang is an old friend of my mother’s. She was a pediatrician before retiring. It’s very quiet here, and the neighbors are trustworthy. I come to see her two or three times a week."
"Mm."
Lance Blue gave the small cyan-haired back one last look, then turned toward the door.
Just then, footsteps sounded from the stairs.
A girl came down from upstairs.
She looked eight or nine years old and was a little shorter than Lance Blue. She wore a simple white shirt and black trousers, while her long white hair was tied into a neat ponytail behind her head.
Her features were delicate, but she wore little expression. Her golden eyes calmly swept over the living room, pausing briefly when they landed on Lance Blue.
"Yvette, you’re here."
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