Chapter 79: The Little Sprouts Sanctuary

Chapter 79: The Little Sprouts Sanctuary The next day’s classes passed in a haze of feigned attentiveness. I sat through lectures on runic theory and magical history, my mind a thousand miles away. The duel with Noora had secured my rank for another week, but it had also solidified my status as the Academy’s primary target. The peace was temporary, a fragile bubble I knew would soon burst. Professor Davos’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "And one final announcement before we conclude for the day," he said, a rare smile touching his lips. "Following the physical examinations next week, the Academy will observe a one-month holiday." A wave of joyous murmurs swept through the classroom. Students immediately began whispering to each other, their faces alight with plans for travel, family visits, and a much-needed break from the pressures of the Academy. They were planning trips to coastal villas, mountain retreats, and grand family estates. But for me, the announcement brought only a sense of dread. A one-month holiday. Where was I supposed to go? The thought of returning to the Crimson estate sent a chill down my spine. I was no longer the weak, forgotten son. I was Rank 1. I was powerful. To my father, that meant I was finally a useful tool. He would undoubtedly try to pull me back into his web of political schemes and power plays, to wield me as a weapon for the family’s glory. And Selene... and Lucielle. They would be there, their love and concern a gilded cage I wasn’t sure I could escape. They would press, they would plead, they would try to mend the broken fragments of a family I had already left behind. I let out a quiet sigh. What a mess. I pulled up my watch, dismissing the swirling anxieties to focus on the immediate future. The details for our physical examination quest had been updated. [Quest: The Harvest Moon Festival of Eldoria] [Objective: Protect the village of Eldoria from nightly invasions of High Goblins. The goblins have been reported to be intelligent, using coordinated tactics to steal supplies and take villagers for food and to host their offspring.] [Duration: 3 Days] I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The mission was straightforward, almost laughably simple for the powerhouse team I’d been assigned. High Goblins, even intelligent ones, were no match for the likes of Nyx, Cecilia, or Liora. This was a freebie, a guaranteed pass. It meant I had time. Time to focus on something far more important. Yesterday, Lucielle had suggested I find a school for Yumi. The idea had taken root in my mind, growing into an urgent priority. Yumi deserved a normal life, a place where she could learn, play, and be a child, away from the shadows and dangers that clung to me. But it wouldn’t be easy. She was a vampire, a fact that would make her an outcast—or a target—in most human institutions. For now, her fangs hadn’t fully developed, and her rose-pink eyes could pass as a rare, exotic trait. I had a small window to enroll her somewhere before her true nature became undeniable. I had to find a place that was either incredibly discreet or genuinely accepting. With a full day before we were scheduled to depart for the mission, I decided to begin my search immediately. I left the Academy grounds and made my way into the capital, a place I usually avoided. My first stop was the prestigious Golden Bough Preparatory School, an institution known for educating the children of wealthy merchants and minor nobles. The building was an architectural marvel of polished wood and stained glass, and the headmistress, a woman with a perfectly coiffed bun and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, greeted me with polite condescension. "Lord Crimson," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "An unexpected honor. How may we assist you?" "I’m looking to enroll my younger sister," I said, keeping my explanation vague. Her smile tightened. "Of course. We would require a full family history, a bloodline verification certificate, and, naturally, a substantial donation to our school’s ’endowment fund’ to secure a place for a mid-term admission." I knew immediately this was a dead end. A bloodline verification would expose Yumi in an instant. "Thank you for your time," I said, turning to leave without another word. My next stop was a stark contrast: the Central District Public School. It was a massive, sprawling stone building, teeming with the chaotic energy of hundreds of children. The air was filled with shouts, laughter, and the occasional cry. I saw children of all kinds—beastkin with fluffy ears, half-elves with pointed gazes, and humans from every walk of life. On the surface, it seemed more accepting. But as I watched from the gates, I saw the darker side. Overworked teachers struggled to maintain order, their faces etched with fatigue. A group of larger boys were teasing a small, timid beastkin girl, pulling her tail while others laughed cruelly. A fight broke out in another corner over a stolen toy. There was no warmth here, no sense of safety. It was a place of survival, not nurturing. Yumi, with her gentle nature and hidden lineage, would be swallowed whole by this place. She needed a sanctuary, not another battlefield. Dejected, I wandered through the winding backstreets of the lower district, the grand avenues of the capital giving way to narrow, cobbled alleyways. It was here, tucked away between a dusty alchemy shop and a quiet teahouse, that I saw it. A simple, unassuming wooden sign hung above a small, ivy-covered building. It read: "The Little Sprouts Sanctuary." It didn’t look like a school. It looked like a home. Curiosity piqued, I pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside. The air was warm and smelled of cinnamon, old books, and freshly baked bread. The room was filled with soft, golden light, and the sound of children’s laughter echoed from a nearby playroom. An elderly half-elf woman with kind, crinkling eyes and long, silver hair braided with wildflowers looked up from the book she was reading. "Hello there, young man," she said, her voice as warm as the room itself. "Welcome. I am Elara, the headmistress here. Are you lost?" "I’m... looking for a school," I said, feeling strangely out of place. "Then you have found one," she replied with a gentle smile. "Though we are a bit different from the grand academies." She led me on a tour. The "sanctuary" was a collection of cozy rooms filled with mismatched furniture, colorful artwork, and shelves overflowing with books and toys. In one room, a young dwarf with a fiery red beard was patiently teaching a human girl how to weave with shimmering stone threads. In another, a quiet beastkin child with fox-like ears was curled up in a plush armchair, her tail twitching contentedly as she read a book. "We believe that every child is a unique seed," Elara explained as we walked. "Some need more sun, some more shade. We don’t force them into the same mold. We teach them the basics, of course—reading, writing, numbers. But more importantly, we teach them to understand themselves, to control their unique gifts, and to be kind to one another." "What kind of children do you accept?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "All kinds," she said, her gaze knowing. "Especially the ones who don’t fit in anywhere else. The orphans, the half-bloods, the ones with... special abilities that the world fears." I knew then that I had found it. This was the place. This was Yumi’s sanctuary. I didn’t reveal her full heritage, only that she was an orphan I had taken under my care, and that she was "special." Elara didn’t press for details. She simply placed a warm hand on my arm. "Every child is special, young man. And every child deserves a place to grow safely, to be loved for who they are, not what they are." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "We always have room for one more little sprout." A wave of relief so profound it almost buckled my knees washed over me. I paid the modest tuition fee on the spot, my hand steady as I signed the enrollment forms. As I left the sanctuary, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. For the first time in a long time, the path ahead felt clear. I had faced down monsters, challenged nobles, and rewritten fate. But this—this felt like my most important victory yet. I had made a decision not as a warrior or a schemer, but as a parent. I had secured a piece of the simple, happy life that Yumi deserved. And in doing so, I had found a piece of it for myself. Hey lovely readers! 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