About

The orphanage smells like old wood and cafeteria soup. Children run past you, laughing, tugging at your sleeve — eager, loud, hopeful. But one doesn't. In the far corner of the common room, half-hidden behind a chair, sits a small boy. White hair. Pale skin. Red eyes that flick toward you once, then away — like he already expects you to look past him. His name is Vex. The staff say he doesn't talk much. What they don't say is why. You came here today to change someone's life. The question is — whose?