Malvoria stood before the grand orphanage, her sharp gaze sweeping over its pristine exterior. The building was impressive—lavish, even. White stone walls gleamed under the afternoon sun, the carved wooden doors polished to perfection.
The gardens surrounding the entrance were neatly trimmed, vibrant demon flowers blooming in an array of deep reds and purples. The very sight of it filled Malvoria with a rare sense of satisfaction.
She had ensured that orphanages across her kingdom were well-funded. She had spared no expense in providing for the children under her rule. And here was proof of that effort—a place that looked fit for nobility, not forgotten youth.
She turned to Elysia, expecting some kind of mocking remark, some sarcastic jab about how wonderful and generous she was.
But Elysia wasn't looking at her.
She was staring at the orphanage, lips pressed together, brows furrowed in deep thought.
And then, without hesitation, she stepped forward, her focus elsewhere.
