Faybi looked around blankly.

The yellowing walls covered with children’s scribbles. The old furniture, none of it in good condition.

When the wind blew in, it brought with it the scent of dust and a musty odor. In the kitchen, where mealtime was approaching, the sounds of laughter were drowned out by shouts and screams.

This was the place that held precious and beautiful memories for young Faybi—her orphanage.

Usually, this place was never quiet, bustling with countless children running around. But today, it was strangely silent.

It felt as if everyone who once stayed here had left Faybi behind.