Silent Complicity

[Environment scanning... Coordinates confirmed: Wood Orphanage, interior. Environmental parameters: damp, cold, average happiness index extremely low... Host, it looks like we've fallen into a collection of suffering.]

The system's muttering echoed in Ares's mind, precisely describing what he felt at this moment.

Following Tom through that creaking, paint-peeling door, a stifling air mixed with disinfectant, old fabric, and a faint musty smell rushed at him. The corridor was narrow and dim, the walls a depressing dark green, bare and devoid of any decoration. Occasionally, children in uniform gray or brown clothes walked past expressionlessly, their eyes mostly hollow or carrying a premature wariness.

Everything here silently spoke of deprivation and indifference.

Tom didn't say a word the whole time. He led Ares straight through the corridor to a door with a sign reading "Office." He knocked, and a slightly weary female voice came from inside: "Come in."

The door was opened by Mrs. Cole, a middle-aged woman with a thin figure, a stern face, and dressed in an old-fashioned skirt. She adjusted her glasses, her gaze first falling on Tom with a clear expression of mixed helplessness and distance.

"Riddell? What is it?" Her tone was businesslike.

Then, her eyes turned to Ares. When she saw his unusual hair color and eyes, she was visibly taken aback, her brow furrowing even tighter.

"Ma'am," Tom said, his voice flat and emotionless, "He was lost nearby. Looks like he needs help."

Mrs. Cole's gaze swept over Ares's worn but clearly not orphanage-issued clothes, then landed on his face—dirty but still bearing delicate features, especially those heterochromatic eyes. "Lost? Child, what's your name? Where's your home?"

Ares had already prepared his story. He lowered his eyelashes, trying to look as helpless and confused as possible, and said in a voice tinged with a slight sob: "I... my name is Ares. I don't remember... I woke up in an alley, and I don't remember anything..." As he spoke, he secretly activated the "Basic Magic Stabilization Technique" the system had just transmitted, making his emotional fluctuations seem more "real," while carefully guiding a faint, almost imperceptible wave of soothing magic—a preliminary application of the Blood Oath talent, not a powerful spell, more like a mental suggestion.

[Host's acting is explosive! (??????)?? An Oscar statuette is on its way! Magic guidance perfect, successfully triggered a weak 'empathy' effect!]

Mrs. Cole looked at Ares's pale little face and those eyes, so different in color yet equally filled with helplessness, on the verge of tears. Her heart inexplicably softened. That faint ripple of magic was like a small stone thrown into still water, stirring ripples in her subconscious. Besides, in these chaotic, economically depressed times, lost or abandoned children were not uncommon.

She sighed, her tone softening slightly: "Amnesia? Poor child..." She looked at Tom, then back at Ares. "You can stay here for now. We'll try to contact your family... if you still have any." She turned to Tom with a routine tone: "Riddell, take him to the empty bed on the second floor. Find Sister Martha to get him a set of toiletries and clothes."

"Yes, ma'am," Tom replied, his expression unchanged.

[(≧?≦)? Successfully passed! Host, we've blended in!]

Ares breathed a sigh of relief and quickly said softly to Mrs. Cole, "Thank you, ma'am."

Following Tom out of the office and up the creaking wooden stairs, Ares finally had a chance to observe this "cradle of the future Dark Lord." The conditions were worse than he'd imagined. A faint, unpleasant odor hung in the air.

Tom led him to a crowded dormitory room with seven or eight iron-framed beds, their bedding looking thin and worn. He pointed to an empty, dusty bed by the window. "Yours."

His tone was still cold. After giving the instruction, he turned to leave, as if completing a task that had nothing to do with him.

"Hey..." Ares called out to him again, pulling the few shillings from his pocket and holding out half. "Thanks for bringing me in. As promised."

Tom paused, his gaze falling on the coins, then lifting to look at Ares again. This time, the scrutiny in his eyes was even stronger. This "Ares"—he had amnesia but remembered he had money? And he was so easily willing to give half to him?

He was silent for a few seconds, then reached out. Instead of taking all of them, he only picked two shillings from Ares's palm.

"This is enough," he said flatly, pocketing the coins with a natural motion. "Keep the rest. Hide them well. Flaunting wealth here isn't wise." This was the first time he'd said anything with a hint of "warning" to Ares, though his tone remained indifferent.

Ares was taken aback, then nodded. "...Thanks."

Tom said nothing more and turned to leave the dormitory.

[Eh? (???) He didn't take it all? And he warned you? Has the target's favorability toward the host secretly increased by just a little?]

"Maybe he just doesn't want trouble, or thinks slow and steady is better," Ares replied in his mind. But he couldn't deny that Tom's restrained move showed him a very realistic "rationality" beneath that cold exterior, not pure greed.

For the rest of the half-day, Ares got his supplies from Sister Martha, a kind-faced but weary-eyed nun, and barely managed to make his bed. Dinner was in a noisy, oppressive hall—watery oatmeal and a small piece of hard black bread. He noticed Tom sitting alone in a corner, eating his food quietly and quickly, oblivious to the surrounding noise, like an isolated island.

At night, lying on the hard bed board, listening to the occasional murmurs and snores of the other children, Ares felt the fatigue and discomfort from this body, his emotions a tangled mess.

[Host, detected emotional fluctuations and residual magic from the target... He seems to be having a nightmare? (′?_?`)]

The system's prompt made Ares turn his head. Moonlight, filtering through the dirty window, fell on Tom in the opposite bed. He was curled up, his brow furrowed, fine cold sweat beading on his forehead, his lips moving soundlessly as if resisting something.

Was it a precursor to a magical outburst? Or just a nightmare?

Ares remembered the "Basic Magic Stabilization Technique" the system had rewarded him with, which included methods to calm unstable magic in oneself and others. He hesitated, then carefully mobilized the warm-and-cold intertwined magic within him again, transforming it into an extremely soft, almost imperceptible wave, like a silent lullaby, slowly spreading toward Tom.

He didn't know if it would work, but he wanted to try.

When that faint wave of magic touched Tom, he shuddered violently and snapped his eyes open! Those black eyes, like a startled beast in the darkness, instantly locked onto Ares's direction, filled with vigilance and a lingering trace of fear.

Ares's heart nearly stopped.

But the next second, the sharpness in Tom's eyes slowly faded, replaced by a deeper probing and... confusion. He seemed to sense that the force that had soothed his inner agitation and magical restlessness came from this newcomer with the strange eyes.

He didn't speak. He just gave Ares a long, deep look, his gaze complex and unreadable. Then, he turned over, his back to Ares, but his tense body seemed to relax a little.

The dormitory fell silent again.

But Ares couldn't fall asleep for a long time. That look from Tom just now made him realize that Tom had not only noticed his little move but had also begun to equate him with "abnormal" and "special."

[New mission released! (??????)??]

[Mission Name: Silent Alliance]

[Mission Requirements: Within three days, engage in at least three effective non-verbal interactions with the target (e.g., sharing food, completing a small task together), and initially establish a rapport.]

[Mission Reward: Beginner Physique Enhancement (Poor host, you need this! (＞_＜)), a small amount of gold coins.]

Looking at the new mission on the system panel, then at the lonely, dangerous back on the opposite bed, Ares let out a soft sigh in the darkness.

The road ahead was long. His "nurturing" plan would have to start from these smallest, most inconspicuous places. And this first silent magical contact between them was like a seed dropped into a deep pool—who knew what flower it would bloom, or... what monster it would breed.