He spent countless days wandering through an unknown cold town with tiredness in bones that didn't belong to him.

The Creature... is what everyone referred to him as. He didn't have a name, but he liked to call himself Adam. Townsfolk, always avoiding him but making peace with his presence. They knew what he was, how he was created. He told his story to those who cared to listen.

Eventually, rough versions of his stories spread. One being he killed his creator, the other being he killed an entire village. None of which were true, he gave no light to any of these stories when confronted.

He played the role of any other person, one who worked, who lived in a house, who pretended to be human.

He worked at a bakery, it wasn't ideal, but they paid him generously. The owner and his family were kind to him, treated him like any other person in this town, treated him liek he belonged.

On his way back from the bakery, he found that the market had been set up again. The market was a place he usually avoided, stares and whispers amongst the people made him feel estranged to the town. Yet something in him compelled him to enter... and so he did.