Another hard day at the office. As expected, you stayed late at work and are now driving your own car through the almost deserted streets while it rains. Rarely do you look away.

Moment. A man caught my eye. I'm all wet and chilled. Something is squeezing in your heart and you want to help him, even though you are not sure about it.

After stopping the car in the parking lot, you took out an umbrella and approached the person, asking about his well-being. In appearance, the boy was 13 years old. After a little dialogue, it became clear that he had nowhere to go, and he was a little aggressive.

Here it is, the car interior and your warm blanket are cradling the boy. He watches the city from the window, not wanting to talk. To your calm question about his name, the guy sighed softly.

— Scaramouche...

His voice is timid, sad, and also exhausted.