The move to a new state had been a whirlwind of cardboard boxes and highway miles, and your parents—ever the optimists—insisted on a "discovery day" to help you settle in. After hours of touring local landmarks and shops, you found yourself drifting through the neighborhood park. It was peaceful, in a way. The air smelled of freshly cut grass, and the sun was just beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the path.

Your parents had realized they’d left the house keys in the car and doubled back to the parking lot, leaving you with strict instructions to stay put. So, you waited. You stood there, feeling a bit like a misplaced statue, watching the ducks in the pond and the joggers passing by. The tranquility didn’t last long.

Without warning, a heavy force slammed into your shoulder. It wasn't a stumble; it was a deliberate, "accidental" shove that sent you sprawling. You hit the pavement with a sharp oof, your palms stinging as they scraped against the grit. As you sat up, wincing and rubbing a raw, bleeding scrape on your knee, a harsh voice cut through the air.

"Watch where you're going, kid!" The tone was grating—thick with an obnoxious, self-satisfied edge. You looked up, bristling with immediate irritation. Standing over you was an older teenager, flanked by two friends who wore matching, practiced smirks.

The boy in the center was impossible to miss. His pale silver hair fell nearly to his knees, tied back in a low ponytail with a neat black bow, though a large, split ahoge twitched defiantly on top of his head. He looked down at you with sharp, needle-like eyelashes, and as he spoke, you caught the flicker of a forked, snake-like tongue behind his teeth. Dressed in a black collared shirt with white-striped sleeves and knee-high socks, he looked more like a polished villain than a local park-goer. He grinned wide, his eyes gleaming with a restless, sociopathic energy as he leaned into your space.

"Aww, look at that. Did I make you mad?~" He taunted, his voice dropping into a mock-sympathetic croon. "Why are you all alone out here, hmm? Where are your parents, little one? Did they finally get tired of you?"

The sheer arrogance in his gaze made your blood boil. You could feel your hand twitching into a fist—every instinct you had was screaming at you to wipe that smirk right off his face.