When Grant heard the word Miracle, an indescribable look of shock appeared on the orphanage director’s face.
He followed Grant’s gaze and looked behind him.
There stood someone around five foot seven, wearing a black-and-blue hooded robe with an asymmetrical cut. The blue honeycomb patterns on his body flickered on and off, while blue-and-black ribbons draped from both shoulders, trailing naturally down his back. Beneath the hood, his face was obscured by blackness, with blue luminous patterns intermittently flashing across it.
Most striking of all was the floating blue metallic technological ring behind him, its outer edge looking exceedingly sharp.
"Getting ready for the 13th Hero Ranking Tournament? That’s quite a cool combat suit," Grant said with a smile, teasing Miracle.
"Uncle Grant," Miracle said flatly from behind his black technological mask. "Stop teasing me. I don’t have much time."
"You’ve grown quite a bit lately. You’re almost taller than me now."
"People hope I can participate in the ranking tournament. They hope I can grow up quickly, I suppose."
"I think you look quite handsome. Why does your new combat suit cover your whole face?"
"I’m not used to showing my face, and I can’t make expressions. Covering it is better instead—it suits a hero like Miracle more."
"Sigh—" Grant still had something he wanted to say...
Feeling a little helpless, Miracle quickly changed the subject.
"This must be the orphanage director, then."
Miracle tilted his head and looked at the refined, bespectacled man beside Grant.
When the orphanage director turned around, his expression froze for several seconds, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses.
The faintly blue-glowing, technologically styled silhouette before him overlapped with the blue-haired boy amid the sea of flames from the news footage and from his imagination, yet was also so very different.
"Y-you... Hello, Miracle." The orphanage director steadied himself and nodded somewhat awkwardly. "I didn’t expect you to come in person."
"No need to be so formal, Director."
Miracle’s voice came through the mask, carrying the magnetic quality of voice modulation, though his tone was casual.
"I was just passing by and decided to take a look. Uncle Grant told me about this place."
His gaze passed over the two men and settled on the lawn outside the window.
Cyan was being led away by a caregiver. As she walked, she kept looking back toward the place where she had caused trouble just now, her cyan eyes devoid of much emotion.
"Is Cyan doing all right?" Miracle asked.
"Don’t worry." Grant patted the orphanage director. "Leave her to him. You can rest assured."
This made the orphanage director feel a little embarrassed.
Miracle nodded and did not ask further.
He raised his hand. The terminal on his wrist flashed, and an exquisite palm-sized box appeared out of thin air in his black tactical-gloved hand.
The box was matte dark blue, without any markings.
"Please give this to her for me, Director."
Miracle handed over the box.
The orphanage director hesitated slightly as he accepted it. It felt cool to the touch. When he opened it and looked inside, he found a necklace engraved with a blue rose.
"A protective charm?"
"Yes, a necklace," Miracle explained simply.
"Hm?" Grant leaned closer too.
"Isn’t this the limited-edition Miracle necklace that just went on sale a few days ago? I heard wearing it brings unexpected good fortune. It’s rather expensive."
Miracle explained, "The ones sold publicly are imitations made by the company. This is the original version I made myself."
Grant looked at the little box, then at Miracle’s face hidden beneath the mask, as if he wanted to say something.
In the end, he merely nodded silently and said to the director, "Accept it, old friend. It’s the child’s heartfelt gesture."
Only then did the director solemnly clasp the box in his hand. "I will personally give it to her and convey your regards."
"Don’t tell her it’s from me." Miracle shook his head. "Just say it’s from a friend. I don’t want to bring her unnecessary attention or pressure."
He paused, seemingly choosing his words, and his voice grew softer. "She... looks a little lonely."
Outside the window, Cyan had already disappeared into the orphanage corridor.
"She is a very quiet child." The director sighed.
"It’s just that sometimes... there are little accidents that leave people not knowing whether to laugh or cry, like just now."
Miracle listened quietly. The blue metallic ring behind him subtly adjusted its floating angle, light flowing across it. "As long as she’s safe."
The atmosphere fell silent for a moment.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting patches of light and shadow across the room.
"Won’t you go see her yourself? Say a few words?" Grant asked.
Miracle shook his head, the shadow beneath his hood swaying faintly.
"No."
"Seeing her is enough."
His current attire was utterly out of place in the warm, homely orphanage. Moreover, he had come directly in his hero combat suit; revealing himself openly would also bring unwanted attention to the orphanage.
"I should go," Miracle said, his tone returning to its initial calmness. "Old man Miki is terribly annoying when he starts nagging."
Although he sounded like he was complaining, there was no genuine dislike in his voice.
Grant heard it and smiled. "Go on, great hero. Be careful on the way."
"Director, excuse the intrusion." Miracle nodded to the director.
"You’re too polite. It is our honor to meet you," the orphanage director said hurriedly.
Miracle did not exchange further pleasantries and turned around.
The hem of his black robe swept into a clean arc with the motion. The blue ring behind him emitted a faint hum, its light gently expanding and contracting.
Rather than using the main entrance, he headed toward the side door at the other end of the corridor, which led to the small garden at the back.
Just as he was about to cross the threshold, his steps paused slightly.
In the courtyard, beneath a tall ginkgo tree, Cyan had somehow slipped outside again. She was squatting on the ground, intently watching a group of ants carry a small crumb of cookie.
Golden fallen leaves occasionally drifted down, brushing past her cyan hair.
Miracle stood in the shadow inside the doorway and watched quietly for several seconds.
Then he raised his hand and, very lightly, pointed through the air in Cyan’s direction.
Nothing happened.
There was no light, no sound.
But in the next instant, a soft autumn breeze of just the right strength swept through the courtyard. It lifted several of the most intact, brilliantly golden ginkgo leaves, sent them swirling through the air, and gently deposited them around Cyan and beside her open hand, like a small, quiet gift.
Cyan raised her head. She looked at the perfectly shaped leaf in her hand, then glanced around. A glimmer of light flashed in her cyan eyes. She picked up one of the leaves and held it to the sunlight.
Inside the doorway, Miracle had already lowered his hand and silently retreated into the deeper shadows of the corridor, as though he had never stopped there at all.
A few seconds later, an extremely faint hum, like the sound of energy retracting, could vaguely be heard before fading into the distance.
...
The orphanage director looked toward the now-empty end of the corridor, then lowered his gaze to the little dark-blue box in his hand, his expression complicated.
"He... really is only eleven years old?"
The director could not help asking Grant in a low voice.
Grant walked over to the window and watched Cyan playing alone with the ginkgo leaves in the courtyard. His face showed a mixture of sentiment and concern.
"Age may no longer mean anything to him," Grant said slowly. "But in some ways... perhaps he will always be that child who would rush into a sea of flames without hesitation to save someone."
He turned and patted his old friend on the shoulder. "I should go too. Remember to give her the necklace."
In the courtyard, Cyan carefully tucked the golden ginkgo leaf into the small pocket of her coat, then lowered her head and continued watching the ants.
Sunlight fell upon her, gentle and tranquil.
The dark-blue box containing the blue rose necklace rested quietly in the orphanage director’s hand, awaiting the moment it would be given to her.
And its giver had already departed silently, like a soundless breeze.
Returning to his hero’s world, filled with spotlights.
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