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The man sighed, burying his head into his hands. “Another failure,” he said, as he exited the small building, which upon further inspection looked to be an orphanage.
He checked his watch. How long had he been looking? A week? A month? He’d honestly lost track of time, moving from town-to-town as he searched for the item he desperately wanted. He wouldn’t be staying here very long either. After all, the orphanage he was about to go to was the last one in town.
He raised his hand, calling for a taxi. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for one to come by. This city’s transportation was much better than the previous one’s—he was often splashed with water by passing cars while waiting for buses that arrived very late.
He entered the taxi, giving the driver a polite smile. “To Camelia Orphanage, please.”
Within 10 minutes, he’d arrived. Transportation in this city really is convenient. A shame he’d have to leave soon.
——— ———
The familiar ring of the orphanage’s door chime echoed throughout the room, signaling the rare arrival of a visitor. “Good morning! Welcome,” The middle-aged lady smiled, stepping aside—letting the man inside of the small building.
He had a frail appearance, yet was imposing in his own way. The man looked to be in his late twenties—not having the glow of someone in his youth, but also not having the mature aura of someone who’s got it all figured out.
His clothes weren’t tattered, but they weren’t in good condition either. He wore an oversized shirt—not in a deliberate way, but in the way clothes become oversized after years of wear, as if it belonged to the past, more fortunate version of himself.
He walked towards the lady’s desk, his dark, unkempt hair falling as he leaned down. “Bring me your smartest child.”
The lady stilled, not expecting the straight-forward approach. She smiled, attempting to gather her composure quickly. Strange customers weren’t uncommon, so she was used to this kind of treatment.
She left the reception desk, moving so that she’d be beside the man. “Right this way, sir.”
The hallway they walked through was worn down—creaky floorboards and cobwebs everywhere, along with some strange stench no one could identify. Clearly the orphanage lacked the funds needed to maintain its interior.
The lady’s voice broke through the worn atmosphere of the room, the pleasing sound reaching the man’s ears. “The weather’s wonderful today, isn’t it?”
Weather. How bland.
The man had no interest in her unnecessary chatter, paying no mind to it. He was only here to adopt a child with superior intellect. Nothing more, nothing less.
“About the child I’m taking you to, sir.” He perked up, eyes moving to meet hers. Pleased with his response, the woman continued.
“If you’re just looking for a retirement plan, I don’t suggest taking this one in.” Her feet stilled, turning to the man with the expression of what could be described as reluctant compassion.
“You’re mistaken.” The man answered—tapping his feet with his arms crossed. “I don’t want a child who will give me a stable life.” He leaned in towards the woman, eyes glowing with a fiery, persistent determination.
“I want someone extraordinary.”
The woman was taken aback for a moment, before her expression switched to one of exasperation. She sighed, turning to walk. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The lady stopped at the door of a worn-down, but decent room. Then, she turned to the man.
“Here we are, sir.” She opened the door, gesturing towards the child he’d been waiting to see. He stepped inside the room, which actually seemed better-maintained than the hallway earlier.
He gazed down at the scrawny, pitiful thing that was leaning against the headboard of its bed while hugging its legs.
The lady’s eyes widened with worry, rushing towards the boy frantically. “Riesh! For God’s sake, didn’t I tell you to rest?” Her hands reached out to pick up the child and were ready to lay him down. However, the child gently moved her hands away.
“I’m fine, Miss. I’d like to entertain guests properly when I have them.”
The pleasant tone was reminiscent of an adults’. If not for his appearance, the lady might’ve thought she was speaking to someone older. She reluctantly took her hands off him, stepping aside.
At the same time, the man closed in. “Impressive, being able to speak so eloquently at such a young age…” He took the child’s shoulders tightly, looking into those dull, gray eyes—ones that were far too composed for a child his age.
However, he couldn’t be too sure yet. Some children are gifted with words and only words. “Tell me, how do you feel about this?” The man gave him a piece of paper. This was a question meant to test him.
What is the meaning of life?
It was a simple question, if you thought about it shallowly. You could call anything the meaning of your life, really. Your job, your spouse, and even your dog would work.
The real challenge starts when you start digging deeper, which usually only philosophers or intellectuals do.
He’d confirmed that from the answers of children he previously asked. Some said the meaning of life was their favorite plushie. Others responded with their dream job. Some simply said they didn’t know. All of the answers he’d heard were shallow—the kind that people without true curiosity gave.
He stared at the child, watching him contemplate an answer. The wait was killing the man. What would this child say to that? Would his answer be different? Or perhaps he’d be let down by the answer being the child’s answer being the same.
After not even 5 seconds, the child answered. “It depends on perspective. My life or everything’s life?” A shiver went up the man’s spine as he answered. “Both.”
The child sighed, finding the request unreasonable. The man could likely judge his intellect based on one answer. What a greedy man to be asking for both. “I believe the meaning of my life is success.” Arrogant, but okay.
The child continued. “But if you’re talking about everything, I believe there is no meaning. The universe is gonna end one day, we all know that. Some cling to the thought of an ‘afterlife’ to comfort themselves, but it’s undeniable. Everything will be destroyed.”
The silence that followed created a somber atmosphere, leaving the man to think of the child’s words.
“That’s quite the pragmatic answer.”
“I suppose so.” The child’s expression didn’t suit his age at all. What had he gone through to have such a harsh mentality?
“But… If life were to have a meaning, I’d say it’s the experience. It is a beautiful, precious thing that we only go through once.” Everyone in the room held their breath. The man smiled. He felt almost comforted at the sight of the child being, well—a child.
The child’s answer ended with a sentence the man considered both beautiful and naive. “An eternal life would be just as, if not more meaningless than a short one.”
The man had made his decision. He turned to the lady, a fiery decisiveness in his eyes.
“I’d like to adopt him.”
The conviction in his voice was definite, maybe a bit desperate as he clenched his fists.
The woman looked back and forth. The desperate man. The child that seemed detached on the outside, but was definitely eager on the inside. The lady could tell by now—she’d been working at the orphanage for years now. These two would make a nice family.
She looked at the man’s file. Stable job, believe it or not. “Right.” She said at last. “I’ll get the papers sorted out, then you can take him home.”
She smiled at the man. Not threatening, but also not friendly. “Don’t forget. If you fail the 6-month trial period, he comes back to us.”
The man walked over to the child. “Your name is Riesh, right?” The child—no, Riesh nodded.
The man placed a hand on his head, patting it gently. “My name is Kalas. Kalas Wiersch.”