Long Island

"Breaking news tonight. Around 1 AM, a homicide occurred in the vicinity of the Swan Club, a high-end establishment."

"Witnesses at the scene reported hearing gunshots and seeing a man in a suit beating a child in the alley."

"This child is none other than Aiden, who lost his parents three weeks ago. An informant revealed that Aiden had stealthily left Saint Agnes Orphanage and, fueled by information gathered from various journalists, sought to confront Dale at the club with questions."

"We deeply regret the ordeal Aiden endured. Reports indicate that the man in the suit who beat Aiden into unconsciousness was one of Dale's bodyguards. By the time the police arrived, the suited man had been shot dead. Two journalists who were tussling with him for a camera are prime suspects. The investigation is ongoing."

"Witnesses did not see Dale at the scene, only his fleet of cars speeding away."

"Aiden is currently hospitalized and unconscious but is no longer in life-threatening danger."

Crash.

A glass tumbled to the floor, shattering into pieces with a crisp sound.

Most of the caregivers watched the news in stunned silence, while a few turned toward the noise, only to see Laura covering her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.

"Oh, my God. Oh, no." Laura made the sign of the cross over her chest, murmuring prayers under her breath.

While the caregivers lamented Aiden's fate, they also worried about their own. With such a scandal stemming from the orphanage, they knew they could not escape responsibility.

"Hey, what are you doing? You haven't moved an inch; did you fall asleep?" A pretty little girl pouted as she noticed the boy at the dining table not moving. Realizing something, she asked, "Can't you see the food? I can help you."

"Thank you, Skye," Matt Murdock nodded, picking up his fork and knife to eat. Although physically present in the dining hall, his ears were tuned to the news broadcast echoing from afar, and he sighed inwardly. Aiden, is that really you?

"Hey, where's your quiet friend?" Skye, a girl with distinct Eastern features, looked at Matt with her big, beautiful eyes and asked curiously, "The really well-behaved little guy. Next time I see him, I'm definitely going to pinch his cheeks. It must be fun."

I hope you never have to see him again, Matt thought to himself.

Outside a Manhattan hospital, numerous media outlets waited, with those lacking connections relegated to the building's outskirts, desperately trying to gain entry. Some with the right connections had made it inside, but with Aiden under strict guard, their access was limited.

An orphan like Aiden, without financial means, wouldn't normally afford such medical care, but his condition had garnered public attention. The orphanage director, though begrudgingly and tearfully, had ensured the medical bills were paid. And now, the director probably despised Aiden, as the daily care costs were exorbitant.

Aiden lay with his eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought. The African American nurse taking care of him wasn't the kindest, her actions rough, causing Aiden unnecessary discomfort. But this was within his threshold of pain.

After his request to watch the news was sternly denied, and attempts to have the nurses read him the newspaper also failed, Aiden entered a state of isolation, cut off from the outside world.

Spending each day in the hospital room, enduring the pain in his limbs, Aiden grew frustrated with his frail body that couldn't withstand the slightest adversity.

"I might be frail, but I should never have used my age as an excuse," Aiden muttered to himself. With his gifts and a character template to guide him, he shouldn't measure himself by the standards of ordinary people. Unfortunately, Aiden, with the mindset of a child, had indulged in the warmth of family, greedily embracing the love and care from the parents he'd stumbled upon, avoiding many things in the process.

"That damned businessman, I skewered his jaw. Would you be proud, or would you blame me?" Aiden's feelings were mixed, uncertain how his parents in heaven would view his actions. But now it didn't matter. What mattered was that Aiden had chosen this path and had no intention of turning back.

The weak are destined only for bullying and humiliation.

If anyone could hear Aiden's thoughts, they might find them laughable. For Aiden, a 5-year-old, had set his sights on ruling Hell's Kitchen.

After several weeks of recovery, Aiden was doing fairly well, though still weak. During this time, he had come to understand the varied attitudes of the nursing staff.

One afternoon, as a nurse changed his dressing, Aiden suddenly spoke up: "Evelyn?"

"Hmm? Little guy?" Evelyn responded, idly flicking the IV line as she spoke.

"Have you heard of Long Island?"

"Of course, it's quite the famous place. Many girls dream of moving to the affluent areas there," Evelyn said with a smirk.

Evidently, the nurse's mind was filled with thoughts of luxury when it came to "Long Island."

"Can you show me what it looks like? Is the island really that long?" Aiden asked with wide, innocent eyes.

His adorable act indeed made Evelyn chuckle, and she leaned down to tap his cheek playfully. "Sure, it's very long, stretching beyond the horizon." Her words were no exaggeration; to see its end would indeed be a miracle.

But this wasn't the answer Aiden sought, for the nurse was clearly humoring a child. So he persisted, "Where is it?"

"To the east. Why, you want to go there? You'll have to wait until you're better," Evelyn said, her face showing a tinge of pity. She knew Aiden's status; even if he were discharged, he'd likely never see the wealthy districts—a sad reality for this poor, yellow-skinned boy.

Aiden nodded silently, and after the nurse finished changing his dressing, she hurried off.

That night, in the wee hours, Aiden suddenly opened his eyes, threw off the covers, and carefully climbed out of bed. Beyond the curtain, a nurse dozed at a desk. Aiden tiptoed to the door.

Click.

The crisp sound of the door opening was jarringly loud in the quiet, but Aiden's glance at the nurse revealed she was still asleep. He slipped through the door, relieved.

The evening hospital was still brightly lit. Aiden, in his tiny hospital gown, moved like a nimble cat, quietly making his way to the emergency exit. Instead of descending, he began to climb the stairs.

Finally, atop the hospital, Aiden emerged onto the rooftop. The sprawling city below was ablaze with lights, the deep autumn sky clear and the temperature low. Aiden shivered involuntarily, tightening his gown around him. After one last look at the beautiful night, he turned his gaze upward to the dark sky.

Gradually, Aiden's feet left the ground. Though his form was unstable, swaying side to side, he didn't give up. His face was a picture of determination as he floated higher and higher.

The rooftop shrank beneath him, the cityscape became a map, and the dropping temperature reminded him of his ascent. After some time, mist drifted past Aiden, and when he looked around again, he was enveloped in clouds.

With a breath of cold air, Aiden's already pale complexion grew whiter. He hurried out of the clouds, orienting himself by the cardinal directions.