Altair had come here to find children who needed him. And now, one stood before him—small, hungry, and alone.
Slowly, he tore his coarse bread in half and held it out. "Are you hungry?" he asked gently.
The boy hesitated for a brief moment, his dark eyes flickering with uncertainty, before nodding vigorously.
"Come here," Altair said, keeping his voice soft and inviting. "You can eat with me."
The child took a cautious step forward, then another, before finally snatching the bread from Altair's hand. He didn't say a word before shoving it into his mouth, chewing desperately, as if afraid someone might take it away.
Altair watched in silence, a complicated mix of emotions stirring in his chest. The system required him to adopt children, but witnessing their suffering firsthand struck a different chord in him. The child in front of him was no longer just a task assigned by the system—he was a starving, vulnerable boy who needed help.
"Sit with me," Altair offered, patting the spot beside him.
The boy hesitated, glancing around nervously, before slowly squatting beside him. His thin, dirt-streaked hands clutched the bread tightly, as if it might vanish at any moment.
Altair couldn't help but be reminded of a stray wolf pup he had once cared for as a child—cautious, distrustful, but desperate for warmth. With a soft smile, he pushed the bowl of soup toward the boy.
"Here, have this too," he encouraged. "But drink it slowly. It's still hot."
The child's dark eyes darted toward Altair, unsure, but the temptation of food was too strong. He took the bowl with both hands and sipped cautiously.
Altair let him eat, not saying anything more. Gaining a child's trust was difficult, but actions spoke louder than words.
Just as the boy was finishing the last sip of soup, a sudden loud voice cut through the air. Making people look.
"Lero! Lero, you brat! Where did you run off to?!"
The shout was shrill and filled with irritation. A plump woman stomped through the crowd, her round face flushed with anger. Some people looked over at the commotion, while others ignored her, too used to the chaos of the town.
Nearby, a soldier frowned. "Lower your voice," he warned sternly. "This is a registration area, not a market."
The woman instantly changed her demeanor, her face twisting into a forced smile. "Ah, I'm sorry, Sir! I'm just looking for my nephew."
The soldier scowled but didn't push further. He turned away, muttering under his breath about troublemakers.
Altair felt the boy beside him stiffen, prompting him to look closely. The child appeared frightened and flustered, his little fingers clenching into fists as he hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller.
What's wrong with him?
Altair was about to ask if he was feeling unwell, wondering if the boy had eaten too quickly after going hungry for so long and was now feeling sick.
But then, he noticed the boy's gaze fixed on the woman causing the commotion.
That's when Altair realized—this child was probably the child named Lero the woman was looking for.
However, the boy's expression was filled with fear. Altair's own face darkened. At first, he had assumed Lero was a beggar, but it seemed he had relatives. Yet, if that were the case, why did he look so shabby? Why was he so frightened?
A sinking feeling settled in Altair's stomach.
Had the child been mistreated?
Just then, the boy slowly stood up and spoke in a trembling voice. "A-Aunt…"
The woman's gaze snapped toward them. Her sharp eyes locked onto the empty soup bowl in Lero's hands, and her face twisted into a furious snarl.
Slap!
Before Altair could react, she smacked Lero hard across the face. The impact sent the frail child stumbling backward, nearly falling.
For a split second, Altair froze, stunned.
Then, he surged to his feet, stepping between them, his body tense with restrained anger.
"What are you doing?!"
How could she slap such a small child?
The slap had been loud enough to draw glances from nearby people, but no one else stepped in. Some turned away uncomfortably, pretending they hadn't seen anything.
The woman ignored him and looked fiercely at Lero.
"You useless thing!" the woman's voice was laced with venom. "I sent you to line up for food, and instead, you're out here stuffing your face while your brothers starve?"
Lero trembled, his hands gripping the ragged hem of his shirt. "I-I didn't…"
"Don't talk back!" she snapped, raising her hand again. "Do you think I'm blind? I saw you eating like some greedy little rat while your brothers go hungry! Ungrateful brat!"
Altair's hands clenched into fists.
Lero was barely four or five years old—how was he supposed to fight his way through a crowd of desperate adults for food? How could someone send such a small child into that chaos?
Altair took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. He was an outsider here, and causing trouble could backfire.
"Ma'am," he said, trying to shift her attention, his voice steady but firm, "the food rations ran out before the boy could get any. The meal he had was from me. He wasn't stealing or disobeying you."
The woman turned her glare onto Altair, looking him up and down. "And who are you to meddle in our family's affairs?" she scoffed. "Even if you gave it to him, he should have shared it with his brothers. He's always been greedy."
Altair's jaw tightened. This woman was unreasonable.
Lero stood there, small and silent, his head hung low. His tiny hands trembled at his sides.
Just as Altair was about to argue, heavy boots thudded against the dirt. A soldier approached, his expression impatient.
"What's going on here?" he demanded. "Didn't I tell you to keep quiet?"
The woman instantly put on a pitiful expression. "Ah, Sir, it's nothing! I was just looking for my nephew, and now that I've found him, we'll be on our way."
The soldier barely spared Lero a glance before snorting. "Then go. Don't make trouble."
"Yes, yes! We'll leave now," the woman said quickly.
Before Altair could say anything more, she grabbed Lero's thin wrist and yanked him forward.
The boy didn't resist. He simply followed without a word.
Altair instinctively reached out, but his hand stopped mid-air. He clenched his fingers into a fist and lowered it.
He sighed.
As much as he wanted to help, he was, after all, a stranger. If he tried to interfere now, the woman might make things worse for Lero—or even report him.
But as Lero was dragged away, he glanced back. His dark, weary eyes met Altair's for just a second before he turned away and disappeared into the crowd.