I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 126: You’re all fired

Malvoria stood with her arms crossed, watching the scene before her with an unreadable expression. On the surface, everything about the orphanage seemed well-maintained—pristine, even.

The walls were freshly painted, adorned with elegant drapes, the floors polished to a gleaming finish.

Ornate furniture lined the halls, and the caretakers carried themselves with the air of nobles rather than those entrusted with raising abandoned children.

But the more Malvoria watched, the more the cracks in the illusion began to show.

The children's clothes were worn thin, frayed at the edges. Some of them had holes in their tunics, and the way they clung to Elysia so desperately was telling in itself.

Their little faces, though lit with joy at seeing her, were leaner than they should have been—evidence of hunger lurking beneath their excitement.

And yet, the caretakers were draped in rich silks and fine embroidery.

Something wasn't right.

Malvoria's fingers twitched at her side.

She had ensured every orphanage under her rule was well-funded. She had spared no expense to make sure the children left in these places thrived.

So where was the money going?

Her gaze flickered back to Elysia, who was still kneeling among the children. She was speaking to Kael in a hushed tone, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

The boy hesitated, glancing around as if afraid to speak. Then, finally, in the smallest of voices, he admitted,

"Like before, they don't give us enough food."

Malvoria's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Her eyes narrowed sharply, gaze snapping toward the caretakers.

The ones who had been standing so proudly just moments ago now shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unable to meet her stare.

"Where does the funding go?" Malvoria asked, her voice dangerously calm.

The head caretaker—a woman with graying hair and that same insincere smile—let out a nervous chuckle. "Your Majesty, I assure you, every coin you provide is used for the children's benefit—"

Elysia snorted. "Really? Then why are the kids eating scraps while you wear silk?"

The woman flinched.

The other caretakers stiffened.

Malvoria slowly exhaled, rolling her shoulders back.

She had suspected something was amiss, but hearing it directly from the children themselves sealed the matter entirely.

She turned slightly, catching the eyes of the guards who had discreetly accompanied them.

"Take them."

The words were quiet.

But they carried the full weight of her authority.

The caretakers' faces paled instantly.

"W-What?" the head caretaker stammered, panic creeping into her voice.

"You're all fired," Malvoria said coldly. "And depending on what we find in the financial records, you might wish firing was all I did."

Chaos erupted.

The caretakers screeched, some of them protesting, others outright pleading as the guards moved swiftly, seizing them by the arms.

"This is a mistake—!"

"We only wanted the best for them—!"

"You have no proof—!"

Malvoria's expression didn't waver.

She didn't need proof.

The proof was starving right in front of her.

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The guards wasted no time dragging them out, their pleas and protests fading into the distance as the large doors shut behind them.

The moment the last one was gone, the orphanage was silent.

Too silent.

Malvoria turned, only to find Elysia watching her carefully.

Something in the way she looked at her was different—curious, almost cautious, like she was reevaluating something.

"You didn't even ask for proof," Elysia murmured.

Malvoria met her gaze evenly. "I didn't need to."

Elysia was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absentmindedly smoothing Kael's hair as he pressed himself against her side.

And then she spoke again.

"You actually care about them."

Malvoria tilted her head slightly.

Elysia's voice wasn't mocking.

She wasn't taunting her.

It was just... a statement.

Like she hadn't expected Malvoria to act so quickly.

Like she hadn't expected her to act at all.

Malvoria studied her for a moment, then glanced at the children, who still huddled around Elysia with wary eyes, peeking out from behind her skirts as if expecting the caretakers to come back at any moment.

She exhaled sharply.

"I don't tolerate corruption," Malvoria said at last.

It wasn't an answer.

Not really.

But it was the only one she was willing to give.

Something unspoken passed between them.

Elysia's gaze lingered on her for a second longer before she finally looked away.

She didn't push the subject.

Instead, she glanced at the children, then back at Malvoria.

"So," she said, rolling her shoulders. "What happens now?"

Malvoria turned her attention to the group of young faces staring up at them with uncertainty.

It was a good question.

One Malvoria was already prepared to answer.

"Now," she said smoothly, "we find someone trustworthy to run this place."

And she would.

Even if she had to burn the entire orphanage system to the ground and rebuild it from scratch.

Elysia glanced down at the children still gathered around her, their wide eyes darting between her and Malvoria, uncertainty lingering in their expressions.

Some of them clung to her dress, as if afraid that the moment they let go, the false caretakers would return, and things would go back to the way they were.

She let out a slow breath, reaching out to ruffle Kael's hair gently. "It's going to be alright now," she said softly, though she wasn't entirely sure who she was trying to reassure—the children, or herself.

Malvoria stood beside her, arms crossed, watching everything with sharp, assessing eyes. There was a different kind of weight in her gaze now, something simmering beneath the surface—frustration, perhaps, or something deeper that Elysia couldn't quite name.

One of the older demon children, a girl with striking violet horns and a wary expression, hesitated before stepping forward. "What if... the new people are just like the old ones?" she asked cautiously.

Malvoria's lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smile.

"They won't be." Her voice was calm, but firm—an absolute statement, one that left no room for doubt.

She turned, casting a final glance around the orphanage, before adding, "It will be better for the kids now."