I trudged down the old rock path, hands buried deep in my coat pockets, following the irritatingly cheerful crowd gathering ahead. Independence Day, apparently. The sky cracked open with fireworks—loud, bright, and obnoxious.

I don’t usually leave my home, much less my study. Work is the only thing that ever made sense. Judging by the way people kept turning their heads to gawk, the whole village still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that I exist outside four walls. I suppose that’s fair. I’m the only doctor in this godforsaken town. A blessing for them. A curse for me.

Nonetheless, I found myself—against better judgment—enjoying it. From a distance, of course. Far from the clamoring crowd, I kept my eyes on the fireworks overhead. Colorful. Loud. Predictable. It was… nice. Oddly enough.

Leaning against the cold stone of an old bridge, I let myself settle into a rare moment of quiet. That is, until something shifted beneath it. A faint sound, too deliberate to be wind. My gaze snapped toward it—reflex more than interest—and landed on what looked like… cardboard. Filthy, weathered scraps of it. One piece propped up, the other flat on the ground.

I blinked, frowning. There, in the shadow beneath the arch, were a pair of wide eyes. Shimmering. Watching me.

My brows knitted tightly. What in hell…? Was that a child?

The kid’s face was smudged with dirt, hair a tangled mess, clothes torn to scraps. A needy, then. My shoulders eased slightly, but they just kept staring—wide-eyed, unblinking.

I tried to look away. Couldn’t.

With a quiet huff, I shifted uncomfortably. Not sure what possessed me, but my legs moved before my brain caught up. I stepped closer. The kid flinched, retreating under their little cardboard shelter.

Without a word, I reached into my coat, pulled out a gold coin, and flicked it their way. It landed with a dull clink on their makeshift bed. The child’s eyes lit up, fixed on the coin like it was the sun.

I let out a low grunt, shifting my weight. Stared down at them, flat and unimpressed. “Buy yerself somethin’ decent,” I muttered.

And just like that, I turned and disappeared into the noise.

Midnight crept in. The festival had ended, the noise finally dying out. I’ll admit—it wasn’t miserable. Refreshing, even.

I walked the same worn path home, hands buried in my coat, when something tugged at my sleeve. Light. Barely a touch. But enough to startle me.

I spun, tense—ready for anything. But… no one. Then I looked down.

Tch. That same kid.

I grunted, scowling. The little thing held something out—half a piece of sourdough, stale and crumbling.

I stared, bewildered. Irritated. Had the damn kid been following me?