He glanced at the sleeping child. "She hasn’t awakened her ability yet."
People beca the Lost when their minds fractured under unbearable pressure, their abilities turning against them like a silent executioner from within.
Most survivors awakened their abilities re days after exposure to radiation. But children born after the explosion? They took years.
But because of that, their bodies adapted far better than those who had lived before the apocalypse.
That ant Sierra still had ti. Ti to heal. Ti to be saved from the abyss of her trauma—if soone could reach her in ti.
"How long before her ability awakens?" deia asked.
Sister Jeanne hesitated. "It varies. Nico took eleven years. But so children... only one."
No guarantees, then.
"Let’s assu she has a year," deia murmured, tapping her fingers against her arm. "That should be enough."
Enough for what? To erase two months of tornt? To nd sothing broken before it shattered completely?
She wouldn’t know that.
deia had spent thousands of years wrestling with her own pain, and even now, it still existed beneath the surface, waiting for a mont of weakness to drag her under.
But Sierra was different. She was a child.
Children forgot easily in their first years and that was their gift.
A year should be enough.
The real question was ... how?
How did one make a child forget pain so deep it had stolen her voice?
And more importantly ...
Why was she assuming this was her burden to bear?
She could walk away. Hand the responsibility to soone else. No one would bla her for it.
So why did the thought of leaving Sierra in soone else’s care make her chest tighten?
[Host, if you take care of her, the system will grant you extra points.]
[You’ll also unlock a new achievent, and who knows? A sponsor might send you a gift again.]
deia considered it for a mont. Extra points? A new achievent? And possibly a reward from a sponsor?
That sounded like a pretty good deal.
’I just have to take care of her until she cries, right?’
[That’s right, Host!]
The offer wasn’t bad, and this wasn’t the first ti she had taken care of a baby. So ... maybe she should give it a try?
[So? What do you say, Host? Are you accepting the offer?]
’Accept,’ deia answered in her mind without hesitation.
"Sister Jeanne, would you mind if I took care of Sierra for a while?"
The room fell into stunned silence.
Then, as if on cue, everyone gasped—loudly and dramatically. Even Lucian.
It was no secret that children were naturally drawn to deia, but everyone also knew she had never shown any real interest in personally caring for them.
Sister Jeanne, in particular, was well aware that most of the children’s toys, books, and little gifts all ca from deia. But handing out presents was one thing—raising a child was an entirely different matter.
"Miss deia, are you sure about that?" Sister Jeanne’s tone was careful, almost hesitant. "A newborn requires constant care. Perhaps it would be best to leave her with soone more experienced?"
Technically speaking, deia was the most experienced person here when it ca to raising young children.
Though ... none of her children had ever lived past the age of three.
"Sister Jeanne, are you questioning my kindness?" deia let out a long, forlorn sigh before dramatically shifting her expression into one of pure sorrow.
"I just want to take care of her because ..." She paused, wiping at non-existent tears as her voice softened to a fragile whisper.\
"Her mother, Sharon ... entrusted her to before she ... before she left this world. She wanted to protect her, to keep her from becoming the Lost."
She even threw in a little sniffle for extra effect.
The room remained silent, but deia could feel the shift in their emotions.
She lied—Sharon hadn’t uttered a single word before she died. The transformation had been too sudden, too fast.
Sorry, not sorry for using your na, Sharon.
After witnessing deia’s tears, Sister Jeanne was imdiately consud by guilt.
How could she have doubted soone who only wanted to do a good deed?
She had never t Sharon personally, but she understood one thing—no mother would entrust her child, the one she had fought so hard to protect, to just anyone.
"Miss deia, that wasn’t my intention." Sister Jeanne’s voice softened with regret. "I was only worried that caring for a newborn might be too much for you."
deia sighed, shaking her head slightly, as if disappointed by the lack of faith in her.
"Sister, doesn’t God ask His followers to never stop learning?" Her lips curled into the faintest of smiles, a look on her face was so genuine, it could almost be called noble.
Then, without hesitation, she reached for Sister Jeanne’s hands, her fingers curling around them with the perfect balance of warmth and resolve.
"That’s why ..." Her voice lowered, gentle yet firm. "Will you trust to learn how to take care of a child?""
... Was she overdoing it?
If she made herself look this determined, wouldn’t it be harder to hand the baby off to soone else later?
Ah, whatever.
Future deia could deal with that problem when the ti cos.
"Miss deia..." Sister Jeanne’s eyes glistened with emotion, deeply moved by deia’s determination.
"Alright!" she finally said, nodding with conviction. "If you truly wish to care for her, then I will entrust the baby to you! I’m sure you’ll raise her well until she grows into a fine young woman."
deia’s eyes widened in pure disbelief.
Wait, what?
She had only planned to look after the child until she turned one, not raise her into a teenager, let alone a young woman.
To my future self... Please, fix this ss.
deia forced a smile, though internally, she was screaming. This wasn’t what she had signed up for.
Lucian, who had been silent all this ti, suddenly chuckled. He leaned toward her, his erald eyes sparkling with amusent. "Looks like you’ve just beco a mother, love."
He still didn’t know all of her past, but he could see that deia would make a great mother if given the chance.
She shot him a sharp glare, whispering, "Shut up. She will be your baby too."
Lucian only grinned wider. "She is our baby, then."
deia paused for a mont. Our baby? That ... actually didn’t sound so bad.
She looked down at the little girl’s fragile face, her tiny hands curled into fists against the blanket.
The child was silent, as always. Not a single cry or whimper.
deia let out a tired sigh. Alright, fine. One year. I’ll take care of her for one year.
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