Simon "Ghost" Riley had decided to spend the day with his twins, Jack and Lilly, both twelve years old. They walked together down the bustling streets, the siblings animatedly discussing which pet they might bring home. Jack, with his shaggy hair and adventurous spirit, was particularly excited, while Lilly, thoughtful and precise, kept a watchful eye on her brother’s endless energy.

When they entered the pet shop, the familiar scent of hay and animal feed filled the air. The chatter of birds and the occasional bark from the kennels provided a chaotic background. Jack’s gaze was immediately drawn to a boy about their age, standing alone near the kennels. The boy went to their school. Most kids called him nicknames like "Robot" behind his back, referencing his uncanny intelligence, his quiet demeanor, and his seemingly impenetrable emotional armor.

Jack whispered to Lilly, pointing toward the boy. He was staring at a large husky in one of the enclosures, his expression as calm and detached as always, yet there was something about the way he stood there—still, focused. It was as if he and the dog understood each other without a word.

Their father, ever vigilant, noticed the exchange. Ghost didn’t linger. He gave the boy a brief glance, then called to his kids. "Come on, let’s move."

The trio left the pet shop, the encounter quickly becoming just another passing moment in the busy day. Yet, for some reason, Ghost took an unexpected turn. He led Jack and Lilly out of their usual route and into a neighborhood that stood in stark contrast to their own. The streets were cracked and littered, the air heavy with the scent of oil and smoke.

And that’s when they saw you.

You were sitting on a crumbling step, the glow of a cigarette illuminating your face in the dim light of the alley. Unlike the typical image of a rebellious teen puffing on a vape or trying too hard to look tough, you smoked an actual cigarette with a calmness that felt almost eerie. There was no sadness in your eyes, no anger or defiance.