Mrs. Cole's Doubts

The star-lit classroom on the rooftop felt like a fleeting dream, and as dawn arrived, the cold tendrils of reality crept back in. The next day, everything seemed to return to square one—bland breakfasts, numbing activities, the small but sharp frictions between the children.

But some things had indeed changed.

Tom remained silent, but Ares could feel that the scrutinizing gaze on him had lost some of its biting chill, replaced by a measure of calculation and thought. An unspoken understanding had formed between them: in the dining hall, Ares would "accidentally" nudge the slightly better food from his bowl toward Tom's; in the yard, Tom would claim that corner which offered both a full view and relative seclusion, while Ares's presence invisibly drove away some of those who came looking for trouble.

They were like two young beasts meeting on a barren plain, keeping a safe distance yet instinctively aware that drawing closer to each other offered a measure of shelter.

[Host, rapport UP! (???) The target didn't speak, but his body language shows a 15.3% decrease in rejection toward you!]

The system's analysis gave Ares some comfort, but the [Cornerstone of Trust] task still showed no progress. Getting Tom to willingly share a secret—how could that be easy?

That afternoon, Sister Martha called Ares to help tidy the storage room. As he walked out carrying some discarded old newspapers, he ran into Mrs. Cole at the corridor corner.

"Ares," Mrs. Cole called out, adjusting her glasses. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, especially on his heterochromatic eyes and the markings under his left eye. "Are you settling in alright here?"

"Fine, thank you for your concern, ma'am." Ares lowered his head, putting on an obedient look.

"Hmm," Mrs. Cole said flatly. "About your family—still nothing you can remember?"

Ares's heart tightened. Maintaining a confused expression, he shook his head. "Sorry, ma'am... I only remember my name."

Mrs. Cole looked at him thoughtfully. "That's strange. You, child... you seem different." She didn't elaborate, but her gaze swept over his eyes and hair again. "You speak and act much more maturely than other children your age. And..." She paused, as if choosing her words. "You and Riddell seem to have grown close lately?"

Ares's heart leaped. Here it was.

He looked up, trying to make his eyes appear clear and innocent. "Tom... he just doesn't talk much. Sometimes I ask him about things here."

"Is that so?" Mrs. Cole's tone was unreadable. "I've noticed that since you arrived, Riddell... seems to cause a bit less trouble." That was true—with Ares as an invisible "soother" and "crisis handler," the frequency of Tom's magical outbursts and conflicts with others had indeed dropped. "That's good. But, Ares," her voice lowered, carrying a note of warning, "you need to understand—that child, Riddell... he's very special. Sometimes, getting too close to special people isn't necessarily a good thing."

Her words pierced the surface calm of the past few days like a cold needle. Mrs. Cole might not know about magic, but with her adult intuition and years of managing the orphanage, she had keenly sensed Tom's "abnormality" and the subtle changes Ares, as a new variable, had brought. She was warning him.

"I understand, ma'am." Ares lowered his head, masking the emotions in his eyes. "I'll be careful."

Mrs. Cole said nothing more, only gave him another deep look before turning and walking away.

Ares stood there holding the old newspapers, a thin layer of cold sweat forming on his back. Mrs. Cole's suspicion hung over him like a dark cloud. He had to be more careful.

That night, lying in bed, Ares ran Mrs. Cole's words through his mind again and again. He knew that mere "peaceful coexistence" and small favors wouldn't be enough to make Tom open his heart. He needed to show greater value, or... create an opportunity.

[Host, detected target's mood is low (′?_?`). Magic fluctuations suggest he might have had another nightmare, or is agitated about something.]

The system's prompt made Ares turn his head. Tom had his back to him, body curled up, but the line of his shoulders was taut. Was it because of the warning during the day? Or was he thinking about unpleasant things again?

Ares hesitated, then once again mobilized that thread of gentle magic fluctuation, letting it brush over like a night breeze. This time, Tom's reaction wasn't as intense. His body relaxed slightly, but he still didn't turn around.

It seemed simple soothing was no longer enough.

Ares thought of the system reward, "Introduction to Ancient Runes." Though it was only the most basic knowledge, it included some extremely simple symbols with calming and focusing effects. These symbols themselves held no magic, but they could be activated by magic to guide emotions.

A bold idea rose in his heart.

He quietly sat up in bed, using the faint light from outside the window. Dipping his finger in a bit of water from his cup, he carefully drew a rune symbol for "tranquility" on the cold cement floor between their beds—one he had just learned. The symbol was simple, like an outstretched leaf.

Then, focusing his mind, he channeled a trace of his own gentle magic, extremely slowly and cautiously, into the water-marked symbol.

There was no dazzling light, no violent fluctuation. But the wet symbol seemed to come alive, emitting an aura invisible to the eye but perceptible to the soul—cool and serene like moonlight. The aura was very faint, its range limited to the area around their two beds.

Ares watched Tom's back nervously.

A few seconds later, Tom's tense shoulders visibly relaxed. He turned over, lying flat, his breathing becoming even and long. He even unconsciously tilted his head slightly toward the symbol's direction, as if drawing in that rare peace.

He fell asleep. Not the struggle of nightmares, but truly peaceful sleep.

Ares looked at the symbol on the ground, gradually drying and vanishing without a trace, then at Tom's sleeping face, slightly softened. A strange sense of accomplishment welled up in his heart.

He hadn't used words, hadn't used direct magical intervention, but had used another, more covert method—one closer to "knowledge" itself—to give Tom tangible help.

The next morning, when Tom woke up, his eyes held a rare, unrested confusion, but more than that, a refreshing clarity. He hadn't slept so deeply or peacefully in a long time. Sitting up, his gaze unconsciously swept over Ares's bed, then fell on the spot on the floor where the symbol had dried without a trace. His eyes flickered.

He didn't ask what had happened last night, but he knew it had something to do with the mysterious boy across from him.

On the way to the dining hall, Tom, for the first time, didn't walk ahead. Instead, he walked side by side with Ares in silence for a stretch. Then, just before stepping into the noisy dining hall, he paused slightly, his eyes fixed ahead, and said in an extremely low voice, as if talking to himself or to Ares:

"Albert and the others... sometimes see things move. Or... suddenly feel very scared."

Having said that, he didn't wait for Ares's reaction, quickened his pace, and entered the dining hall first.

Ares stood frozen in place.

[Ding!!!! ∑(?Д?ノ)ノ Task "Cornerstone of Trust" completed!]

[Target has voluntarily shared a secret about the effects of his own abilities! (Though indirect)]

[Reward issued: Magic Perception Enhancement activated! Introduction to Ancient Runes (Advanced) transmitting!]

[Host! He shared a secret with you! It's a small one, about how he scares people, but it's a breakthrough from zero! A historic step! ?(???)?]

A clearer perception surged into Ares's consciousness. He could now sense the subtle changes in surrounding magic more keenly, including the restrained yet powerful magical source on Tom. At the same time, more complex rune symbols and knowledge flooded his mind.

Ares watched Tom's straight back disappear through the dining hall entrance, and the corners of his mouth lifted uncontrollably.

He knew this was just the beginning—Tom testing the waters, repaying the silent "tranquility rune" from last night. But this was the cornerstone, the first and hardest piece of trust, finally laid down carefully through complicity, knowledge, and wordless care.

The road ahead was still full of thorns, Mrs. Cole's suspicion hanging over him like a sword of Damocles. But Ares felt that a faint but real light had appeared in his hand.

That light was called "possibility."