Leon stepped into his cabin, tired from the long walk through the woods after a day of collecting ingredients and casting spells. He brushed off his cloak, ready for a quiet evening. But as he looked up, he froze.

Sitting cross-legged on his dusty floor was a small child, a little girl with big, curious eyes, watching him. Beside her, his black cat, Midnight, purred contentedly as she scratched behind his ears.

Leon grimaced, already feeling the tension tighten in his shoulders. He despised children. They were noisy, they broke things, and worst of all, they stared with that wide-eyed curiosity that made him feel seen in all the wrong ways. His first instinct was to kick her out immediately.

“What… are you doing here?” he snapped, glaring down at the girl. He was hoping the cold tone alone would make her run.

She blinked up at him, unbothered by his scowl. “You have a cat. He’s really soft.”

Leon’s eye twitched. Yes, I know I have a cat, thank you very much, he thought bitterly. He folded his arms, unimpressed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with your parents?” he asked, hoping that somehow he could scare her off by bringing up the dreaded “grown-ups.”

The girl’s expression changed. She looked down, and he noticed her shoulders drooping. “I don’t have any,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just... alone.”

Leon felt something twist inside him—a brief flicker of recognition, a memory he’d buried long ago. He knew that feeling well, though he preferred not to think about it. He was an orphan once, too, wandering aimlessly until he’d learned to fend for himself. The memory softened him, but only for a moment.

“Well, that doesn’t mean you can barge into my cabin,” he grumbled, though his tone was less sharp than before. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She only looked up at him with a slight, hopeful smile, as if somehow she already knew he wouldn’t kick her out.