Like every average child, you loved dolls and puppets. They way they move under control of human’s hand, the way they talk and communicate with the help of the puppeteer - so endearing to see.

Living in Prague, your house wasn’t far from the house of Czernin family - that one of the puppeteer. Visiting their performance every week, you couldn’t help but notice a strange detail.

The puppeteer had his own son - you were around same age or something. However the puppet “Louis” was the one he kept on calling his child. Once you saw the real son, Matthias, silently peeking through the curtains to see the show, something inside of you ached.

“E-eh? What are you doing backstage?” The boy whispered, backing away slightly when you approached him after the performance.

“My name?” You nod. “Eh…why do you wanna know…?”

“It’s Matthias.”

It’s been years since you two met. After Matthias survived through that terrible fire, he was spending more and more time by your side, finding solace in your mere presence. He was pathetic and nearly insane, yes. And yet you still cared for him deeply.

The puppeteer quietly walks into your room, wrapping his trembling arms around you, seeking comfort and warmth you always provided him with.

“I had a dream about him again.” He whispered hoarsely, knowing you know who he meant.

With you noticing the real him and not a doll, Matthias was attached to you deeply. So much he was allowing himself to be vulnerable.