"Ugh," Damien cradled his head, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Wha-?"

He was surrounded by the orphans, all sleeping peacefully and draped around him like a protective blanket. He glanced further away and saw Chester, resting on his backpack. The memories of last night came back to the boy; the battle, the pain, and the self-loathing. Damien cringed, despising himself for being so vulnerable, and crying like a newborn after the events that transpired.

'But I must say...I feel lighter. Like a weight was taken off my shoulders.'

The catharsis he experienced made him feel less burdened, more present than he'd ever been prior to today. He smiled at Sheila, pinching her cheek and carefully peeling them off of him to avoid disturbing them.

He made a move to wake up Chester, wanting to discuss their next steps. The boy shifted his priorities towards the children and finding them a proper home, away from the Twilight Bandits. And possibly, a way of ensuring they would never approach them again. But just before he could touch him, a voice behind him spoke.

"Don't."

Damien spun back, half-ready to fight, only to see the girl from last night, the one who helped nurse Alvis back to health.

'I think...her name was Eli, wasn't it?'

Her eyes were supernatural. For some reason, it reminded him strongly of Chester's iridescent weapon. The way it shifted colors, even as she sat still, was uncanny. He hadn't seen anything like Attainium until now. She looked about the same age as him, and he acknowledged that she was beautiful. It didn't sway him, but merely wondered if she was part-elf.

"...Um, I apologize. My name's Damien. Thank you for letting us stay here and helping Alvis." The boy bowed, not forgetting to pay his respects to their hosts. "But is there a reason why I can't wake him up?"

She shook her head again. "He is..." Eli narrowed her eyes, struggling to think of the word. "...Marinating."

Damien tilted his head, befuddled by what she was saying. She walked towards him and glanced back at his sleeping companion, who seemed completely fine. His eye twitched slightly while he snored away.

"Do not disturb."

Deciding to heed her instructions, the vampire followed her into the main area of the restaurant. Past the storage room, he could hear the noise of the kitchen and the tantalizing smell of food. Damien seldom needed food or water, only blood, but he couldn't deny that he was famished after the events that transpired yesterday.

He came face to face with Lola in the kitchen, and she looked at him with an impassive expression. Her shades tilted downward slightly to see him.

"Well, if it isn't the sleeping princess. You done crying your heart out?"

The vampire's pale cheeks flushed, but he didn't refute what the grandmother said. "Yes, thank you for your hospitality. I hope our presence wasn't too much of a burden."

"Oh please, save me your flowery words." Lola clicked her tongue. "Go have a seat. Eli, help me make breakfast."

Damien meekly complied. Something about the woman commanded respect. It was eerie. The boy's eyes and senses could see nothing unusual about her; an elder woman who was too spry for her age, but that feeling in his gut put him in a state of vigilance. But he trusted her. She took them in when they had nowhere to go, and went above and beyond by healing Alvis.

The boy settled his anxieties and turned to look at the interior of the restaurant. Aside from the three of them, it was empty. He could tell from the window outside that it was still extremely early.

'I need to make sure Oliver is dead.'

In Damien's mind, mercy was no longer an option. The thought of the enforcer filled his mind with terrible thoughts, ones he never thought he'd experience. He clenched his fist, remembering the amount of pain the man inflicted on everybody to get back at Damien.

His thoughts whirled, making him grimace upon realizing the threat likely wouldn't end there. If they killed an important executive of the Twilight Bandits' it wouldn't end so easily.

It was a problem he couldn't figure out on his own. One boy, no matter how powerful, couldn't stand up to the might of an entire criminal organization.

'Well, unless it was Braham. But he doesn't count!'

Eli placed a dish in front of him. She wore a bandana over her head and set down utensils in a practiced manner, before turning back on her heel. It was a hefty serving, enough to feed two people. Rice, topped with chicken drumsticks and a fragrant, dark brown sauce that stoked his appetite.

"Thank you." He murmured, picking up the spoon and fork. Placing a small amount of rice and chicken onto his utensil, Damien took a bite and widened his eyes. "This is delicious!"

"Tell me something I don't know," Lola yelled from the kitchen. "There are additional servings here. Go wake up the others, if you will?"

Eli, in the middle of chopping vegetables, dropped everything she was doing and went into the back. Lola resumed cooking as usual, darting back and forth in the kitchen and managing multiple processes at once. They were both unusual, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst everybody he's seen.

He finished his plate within minutes and approached Lola, staying out of her way and remaining by the counter where they set the dishes. It was time to resolve his curiosities. She seemed to be much more than what she showed on the surface.

"Do you know my great-grandfather?"

"What if I do?"

"And... what about my brother Braham? Do you know him as well?"

Lola paused in her cooking, turning to look at him with her hawk-like eyes. She seemed to measure him up, pondering on whether he was ready for the truth. After a moment, she sighed, a small wisp of a smile pulling at her lips.

"I do," she confirmed, her gaze softening. "I saw him. Nearly four years ago, he was here in Garbandt. Had a baby in his arms, he did."

"A baby?" Damien asked, taken aback. He hadn't expected that. His mind raced with the implications. Braham, with a baby? His older brother was always a wildcard, but to think he was caring for a child... was it his?

He shook his head. There were more pressing matters. "Do you know where he went? What he's been up to?"

Lola turned back to her cooking, stirring a pot thoughtfully. "Can't say. He left after staying here for one night. I ain't one to pry."

She ladled some soup into a bowl, the rich, savory smell wafting over the counter. "I can tell you one thing though, he cared for that baby. Looked at it like it was the most precious thing in the world. That's more than I can say for most folks. It's why I'm making breakfast for two dozen people everyday."

Lola harrumphed but didn't stop cooking. She was beating eggs in a massive bowl before pouring it into an aged, dark-purple pan with a rounded bottom, sizzling loudly.

Damien was silent, his mind whirling. Braham with a child? If it was years ago, that meant it happened right after the Pearl Island massacre. He wondered what that meant, and where his brother had gone. He had so many questions and no answers. The idea of his older brother caring for a child was alien to him.

But for now, he could only focus on what was in front of him. The Twilight Bandits, Oliver, and the orphans. He had to protect them, and he would need Lola and Eli's help to do so. Finding information about Braham was just a bonus and a confirmation that he's been here before.

With a determined nod, he turned back to Lola. "Thank you for telling me," he said, his voice firm. "I appreciate it."

Lola gave a nonchalant shrug. "Anything else you want to know?"

"Well, how'd you figure out I was a vampire? And who my great-grandfather was?"

"I'm not omniscient," She scoffed. "Great-grandfather? That bastard's older than I thought. But I could tell from your face. You have the same cheekbones. That brother of yours, as well. Nobody with such a snobby-looking face would come to Garbrandt unless they were stupid or strong."

'Snobby-looking?'

He touched his face all over and wondered if it was true. If his physiognomy was the reason why they were attacked so often. Before he could question it further and become self-conscious, the door swung open to reveal a gaggle of children, including Bentham, Sheila, and the others talking amicably with the ones who lived here. Eli was the last one to leave, but Alvis and Chester were both absent. Damien supposed they still needed their rest and helped Lola set up the table.

Feeding nearly thirty people was a chaotic affair. Five massive bowls of food they could choose from, and all the children bickered over who was first. Damien grabbed a second serving of chicken and rice, sitting closer to Lola. She didn't seem harried at all, eating a bowl of soup with a side of fried fish and vegetables. Eli sat parallel to Damien, eating quietly and nodding to herself.

"Mind explaining how you run this place?" Damien inquired, breaking the silence.

Lola wiped her mouth with a napkin before responding. "This place started as just a restaurant, you know," she said, a faint trace of fondness coloring her tone. "I used to serve food to folks in the town. But back then the bandits and the crooks were running wild, and things got bad. Parents died, children were left alone... I couldn't just stand by."

She took a sip from her soup, humming approvingly before continuing. "So I started taking them in. First, it was just a couple of kids who didn't have anywhere else to go. I fed them, gave them a place to sleep. But word gets around, and more started showing up."

Damien watched as she gestured at the kids, all of them eating eagerly and chatting amongst themselves. Eli and another older child were making sure the younger ones ate properly. They all seemed to meekly obey Eli, as she spoke very little and stared them down when they got unruly. Lola smiled, though her eyes held a hint of irritation.

"Annoying little buggers, aren't they?" she muttered. Yet her actions contradicted her words as she carefully poured a second helping of soup for a small girl, her eyes softening as she made sure the child was eating enough.

"But you care about them," Damien stated. It wasn't a question.

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Yeah. I do. They're my family."

A small boy tugged at her sleeve then, babbling about something. Lola bent down to his level, listening intently. Damien watched as she spoke softly to him, ruffling his hair affectionately before sending him off to play with the others.

"So, why the restaurant?" Damien asked.

"I can't be running an orphanage with no income, now can I?" Lola responded. "Plus, the kids need to learn some skills. So they help with the cooking, the cleaning, everything. It's tough, but they're learning. And the folks in town... well, they've been good to us. They come for the food, they pay what they can. Some days, we even manage to make a bit of a profit."

She seemed tired, yet fulfilled. Her stern face softened when she looked at the children, the harsh exterior cracking to reveal a well of kindness beneath. Despite her protests, Damien could see that she wouldn't have had it any other way.

"What about the danger? From bandits and criminals?" he asked.

"Ah, well... We manage," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "Most of 'em have enough sense not to mess with an old woman and a bunch of kids. They've been staying away from this area for the past few decades. And the ones that don't... well, let's just say I've learned a thing or two over the years."

"And Eli?" he asked, glancing at the girl. She returned to her seat and continued eating once everybody had a plate of food.

Lola smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "She's been here longer than most. Found her half-starved and wandering the streets one night. Smart as a whip, that one. She keeps this place running more than I do these days. Once I croak she'll be the one running things."

She finished her meal, standing up and beginning to clear away the dishes. The children, too, began to clear away their dishes and put things in order. Damien watched as Lola and Eli moved through the room, ensuring everything was in place. Despite their gruff exterior, their actions spoke louder than words.

"Thanks for the food, Lola," he said, pushing his empty plate away. "And for letting us stay here."

Lola looked at him, a twinkle in her eyes. "Don't mention it, kid. Just remember to pay it forward someday, alright?"

The vampire nodded. He continued to talk, helping them get ready to open the restaurant. It was a practiced routine that all the children knew by instinct. Those who came from Strofil were helping out, and the others taught them how to do the basics. Damien was tasked with moving things around, a simple task for someone as strong as him.

"... You see that man over there?" Lola gestured towards the window, her gaze falling on an older gentleman standing in front of a small café across the street. "That's Manny. He used to be one of the rambunctious ones when he was younger. Thought he was some kind of rogue outlaw 'till I beat some sense into him."

Damien followed her gaze, observing the man she referred to. He was rugged and tall, with a warm smile on his face as he carried a basket full of ingredients, and chatting with an older man.

"But look at him now," Lola continued, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "He picked himself up, straightened out his act. Runs that café next door, and makes a good, honest living out of it."

Damien was truly amazed. It was clear that Lola's care and influence had touched the lives of many children, guiding them towards a path they otherwise might never have found.

"Some of the kids who grow up move out, start their own businesses. Life isn't a walk in the park, but they're doing well for themselves. Did my best to keep them out of the whole gang business."

"And how long have you been doing this?" Damien couldn't help but ask, his curiosity piqued. If Manny was one of the older ones, then just how old was Lola?

With a sigh and a hint of humor, she confessed, "Longer than you'd think, kiddo. I've seen a lot of kids grow up. A lot of them turn into something respectable, but some...they know better than to come back 'round here with their nonsense."

Before Damien could ask any more questions, Lola turned her attention back to the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, leaving him to ponder on her words.

"Although, that Manny," she grumbled jokingly, "He's taking business away from us with his fancy shroom coffees and pastries!"

Despite her words, her tone was more teasing than angry. Lola didn't seem to harbor any actual resentment towards Manny. If anything, she appeared to be rather proud of him.

"But," she added, her eyes softening, "he makes up for it. Every weekend, without fail, he comes in to help around the restaurant. It's his way of giving back, I suppose."

Damien sat back, impressed and moved by the story. He was beginning to understand just how much of a positive impact Lola had on these people's lives. In fact, it explained why the area had become a safe haven of sorts. Her restaurant helped foster a community that supported each other, built on the idea of 'paying it forward'. In some way, he was starting to feel like he was part of something bigger, something important. He had more questions for Lola, but decided they could wait. For now, he just wanted to take it all in.

He worked diligently, helping serve customers and clean up tables as the restaurant got busy. About half of the children stayed to help in the restaurant, while the others decided to play in the street or go to the market nearby. Bentham had left to explore, still skittish around Lola for reasons Damien wasn't aware of. They seemed to have history.

The backdoor of the restaurant slammed open, revealing Chester with a dazed look on his face. His eyes seemed unfocused, and his face seemed to be in a constant state of disbelief.

"Chester? What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Oh, Damien." He said absent-mindedly. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

With that, the illusionist promptly collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap.