The room buzzed with the sound of excited kids, their laughter and chatter filling every corner. Andy found himself oddly at ease despite the earlier unease, telling another lighthearted story to the small crowd gathered around him. Lana stood nearby, her smile warm as she handed out toys and snacks, occasionally casting him an amused glance.

  The sound of footsteps interrupted the commotion, and a nurse in a crisp white uniform appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowed. "What’s all this racket?" she asked, her tone stern but not unkind. Her eyes swept over the group of children before landing on Andy. "And who might you be?"

  Andy stiffened, his shoulders tensing instinctively. The warmth of the moment evaporated as old memories surged to the surface. "I’m... just helping," he said curtly, standing to his full height. His gaze hardened slightly. "I used to be here."

  The nurse’s expression softened with a flicker of recognition. "You were one of our orphans?" she asked, stepping closer.

  Andy nodded, his voice clipped. "Yeah. I ran away. Couldn’t stay here any longer."

  The nurse blinked, surprised by his bluntness. "Ran away?" she repeated, her tone heavy with concern. "What do you mean?"

  "It wasn’t a place for me," Andy replied, his voice cold. "The kids were cruel, and no one did anything about it. I had to get out." He crossed his arms, his jaw tight. "I ran, and I didn’t look back."

  The nurse sighed, her hands clasping in front of her. "Were you... part of the Frontier Project?" she asked hesitantly.

  Andy hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Outer-born."

  The nurse’s shoulders sagged, and her expression turned apologetic. "I see. The Frontier Project kids had a rough time here. We tried to help, but..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "The truth is, we were overwhelmed. After the storms and the fall of Aurorak Point, Iron haven, Solace Reach and… Bastion, so many children lost their parents. We didn’t have enough staff, and... the kids could be cruel to one another. It was horrible. Every time we tried to step in, it only made things worse."

  Andy’s lips pressed into a thin line, the memories of those days swirling in his mind. "It wasn’t just the other kids," he breathed. "The whole place felt... wrong. Like I didn’t belong."

  The nurse nodded solemnly. "I’m sorry you had such a bad time, truly. We did our best, but it was far from enough." Her gaze softened as she added, "I remember a red-haired girl. Terra, wasn’t it? She was close to you, wasn’t she?"

  Andy’s chest tightened at the mention of Terra. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We escaped together."

  The nurse’s face lit up with recognition. "We spent weeks searching for you both. There was so much worry, but... we never found you. Then one day, your grandfather came."

  Andy frowned, surprised. "Wily?"

  She nodded. "Yes. He came to us and said you were safe, that you had a home now. He even donated money to help us out—generously, I might add. He said he wanted to make sure the other kids wouldn’t have to go through what you did."

  Andy blinked, surprised. He’d always known Wily had taken him in and given him purpose, but he hadn’t realized the old man had helped the orphanage too. A mix of gratitude and guilt swirled in his chest.

  Before Andy could respond, a figure caught his eye. A woman stood in the room’s corner, her presence almost blending into the background. She was tall, with striking features and a composed demeanor, her dark hair swept into an elegant style. There was something familiar about her, something that tugged at the edges of Andy’s memory.

  "Who’s that?" he asked, nodding toward the woman.

  The nurse followed his gaze and smiled faintly. "Ah, that’s one of our biggest donors. She’s helped us rebuild after the worst of the storms."

  Andy’s brow furrowed as the memory clicked into place. The woman had been at the Nexus Bar, sitting near Vin. His heart skipped a beat as unease settled over him. What was she doing here?

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  Lana appeared at his side, her brow arching as she noticed his expression. "You okay?" she asked softly.

  Andy nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on the woman. "Yeah," he said, his voice distant. "Just... thought I recognized someone."

  The woman turned slightly, her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing briefly on Andy. Her lips curved into a faint smile, almost imperceptible, before she returned to her conversation with another staff member.

  The nurse touched his arm gently, drawing his attention back. "Whatever happened here, Andy, I hope you know it wasn’t your fault. And I hope you know... you’ve come a long way. I’m proud you made something of yourself."

  Andy swallowed hard, nodding once. "Thanks," he whispered, though his mind was still racing.

  As the kids called Lana over to help with another box of supplies, Andy stood alone for a moment, his thoughts a jumble of emotions—gratitude for Wily, guilt for leaving, and unease at the sight of the mysterious donor.

  But one thing was obvious. his past hadn’t finished with him yet. And as he glanced at Lana, laughing and radiant among the children, he realized that the present wasn’t any simpler.

  As the kids played with their new toys, Lana approached Andy, her expression softer than usual. She gently tugged on his sleeve, motioning for him to follow her toward a quieter corner of the room. The din of the children’s laughter faded slightly as they stepped into a side area, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

  "Hey," Lana said, her voice low and warm. "I just... I wanted to thank you for coming with me today. It means a lot."

  Andy tilted his head, his brows knitting together. "Lana, you didn’t have to—"

  "I do," she interrupted, a small, sincere smile playing on her lips. "I know how hard it must’ve been for you to come back here, and I know you didn’t want to at first. But seeing you with the kids? That was... it was something special. You’ve got a way about you, Andy, even if you don’t see it."

  Andy scratched the back of his neck, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the warm room. "I think you’re giving me too much credit," he muttered.

  Lana smirked, stepping closer. "Oh, I don’t know. You seem pretty good at surprising people. Maybe even yourself."

  Her teasing tone was light, but her eyes held something deeper—a genuine affection that made Andy’s chest tighten. He searched for the right words, but before he could speak, Lana reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

  "You know," she whispered, her voice dropping just slightly, "you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself. There are people who care about you, Andy. People who want to help."

  Andy met her gaze, his pulse quickening. "I’m not used to that," he admitted quietly.

  "Well," Lana said, her lips curving into a small smile, "maybe you should get used to it." She hesitated for a moment, then stepped back, her playful grin returning. "Anyway, you better come see me again soon. I’m not hauling supplies to the orphanage alone next time."

  Andy chuckled, his tension easing slightly. "Alright. You’ve got a deal."

  As she walked him to the door, her hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer than necessary. "Take care of yourself, Andy," she said, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "And don’t make me wait too long."

  He nodded, his smile faint but genuine. "I won’t."

  The sun was dipping lower in the sky as Andy made his way through the twisting streets, heading toward the market district. The air was alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares, the clatter of carts, and the hum of conversation. It was a familiar chaos, one that grounded him after the emotional whirlwind of the day.

  As he turned down a narrow alleyway to take a shortcut, he felt a sudden jolt as someone bumped into him hard enough to make him stagger. "Sorry," he muttered instinctively, glancing up, but the man was already gone, disappearing into the crowd without a word.

  Andy frowned, brushing off his jacket. It wasn’t until he reached into his pocket to check for he had everything that he felt, something unfamiliar—a small piece of paper folded neatly.

  His heart stopped as he pulled it out and read the single line scrawled in sharp, unmistakable handwriting.

  "Don’t forget. -V”

  The world around him seemed to blur as a chill ran down his spine. The note felt like a physical weight in his hand, the letters burning into his mind. V. Vin. His piercing, predatory eyes flashed in Andy’s memory, the smirk that carried more menace than humor. The encounter at the Nexus Bar suddenly loomed large in his thoughts, every detail sharper now—Vin’s calculating gaze, his measured words, the tension that had lingered long after the conversation had ended.

  Andy’s pulse quickened as he scanned the alleyway, his eyes darting over the crowd. The man who had bumped him was gone, swallowed by the bustling market. He clenched the note tightly, his jaw tightening. Was Vin watching him? Following him? And why now, after all this time?

  His chest tightened as the implications swirled in his mind. This wasn’t a coincidence. Vin wanted him to remember, to know he was still there, still watching.

  Andy stuffed the note back into his pocket, his mind racing as he continued through the alley, his senses on high alert. The noise of the market felt distant, the faces of passersby blurring as he scanned for anything—or anyone—out of place.

  As he reached the edge of the market district, he paused, leaning against a wall to catch his breath. The day’s events, from the orphanage to the note, weighed heavily on him, but one thought rose above the rest: Vin wasn’t done with him. Not yet.

  And whatever came next, Andy knew he had to be ready.