He is Different

'By the way~' A small brown snake raised its upper body, having just remembered another piece of information it had gathered, its tail flicking against the ground. 'I heard some rich guy is going to donate money to you all~ Take you to the seaside to play~'

Not particularly interested, Tom stared blankly at the sky. It was probably just another wealthy person looking to pick out a child they liked, whether for adoption or some other reason—none of it had anything to do with him. He wasn't naive enough to fall for that. This place was far better than the filthier alternatives.

Casually flipping through the scattered items on the ground, Tom raised an eyebrow. A silver thimble, a tarnished harmonica, and a yo-yo spool—what was so special about these things? Still, he didn't want to disappoint the little ones, so he tucked the items into his pocket.

'I'm heading out. You all be careful not to get caught...'

Standing up and brushing the dirt off his clothes, Tom returned to the yard, watching coldly as Billy, in the distance, killed his pet rabbit. 'Heh, that was fast.' Muttering under his breath, Tom stood at the corner, sneering as Billy hung the dead rabbit from a tree.

'I'd never stoop to something so low.'

Arms crossed, leaning against the wall, Tom stared at Billy like he was watching a clown. When he heard the shrill cries of weeping, he frowned. Annoying. Couldn't they cry a little quieter? So fake—not even a single tear. Shaking his head, he walked away, knowing he'd be locked in solitary confinement soon enough.

Sneaking into the kitchen to stash a piece of bread, Tom finally sauntered back into the yard. Before he could say a word, a slap cracked across his face. The force nearly knocked him off balance. Turning his head, he gritted his teeth. The taste of rust in his mouth told him his lip was definitely split open.

'And what have I done now, Mrs. Cole...'

Mrs. Cole flung the dead rabbit at Tom's feet, her disgust pouring out in waves. Her already unpleasant features twisted even further. 'How could you do something like this! Don't you know that murderers with psychological issues start by torturing small animals! Get to the closet and repent!'

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. His dark, deep eyes swept over Billy's ashen face. Tom turned and walked away without a word. What was the point of explaining? Who would believe him, alone and helpless? Lies born from jealousy could never make those ugly people admit the truth.

'So disgusting... ugh...'

The faces of everyone in the orphanage twisted and spun in Tom's mind, morphing into hideous, nauseating monsters. He couldn't suppress the urge to vomit, collapsing to his knees and retching endlessly. He didn't know how long passed.

Finally, Tom felt like he could breathe again. Red-eyed, he slumped to the side. He knew why they hated him. Because he was the odd one out here. Because he carried a pride and dignity that didn't belong in this place, unable to blend in with those who had completely surrendered to fate.

He wouldn't easily bend his knee to anyone—unless that person could offer him something. Benefits. That was it. As long as something was in his interest, he could put on the right smile, cater to others' preferences, and leverage his own strengths.

But unfortunately, those people who came to the orphanage with ill intentions weren't worthy of him setting aside his pride. After all, he was different, wasn't he? In all these years, he hadn't found anyone else with the same ability as his.