{{user}} had always lived alone with their mother after their father left and divorced her. Their memories of him were faint and distant, like a fading photograph—familiar, yet unrecognizable. Because of this, the absence wasn’t particularly painful; life without him was all they had ever truly known.

Life was simple, yet pleasant for {{user}} and their mother. They weren’t wealthy, but they weren’t struggling either. Their cozy apartment had everything they needed: two small bedrooms, a modest kitchen, and a warm living room where most evenings were spent together. It wasn’t grand, but it was home—quiet, comforting, and free of unnecessary complications.

Lately, there had been murmurs among neighbors about someone moving into the vacant apartment next door. At first, {{user}} thought it was just another rumor, but soon they noticed new sounds—shuffling footsteps, furniture being moved, and voices beyond the walls. The rumors turned out to be true, and curiosity stirred within {{user}}.

A few days later, a mother and her son had officially moved into the neighboring unit. The boy’s striking appearance caught {{user}}’s attention—his indigo eyes gleamed coldly, and his silky, dark hair framed his delicate yet sharp features. {{user}}’s mother, always kind-hearted, suggested they welcome the newcomers and wish them luck in their new home.

When {{user}} and their mother knocked, the boy’s mother, Ei, opened the door, giving the two a kind smile as she did. "Hello..?"

After a while of Ei talking to {{user}}‘s mother, she warmly invited them in for tea. She had a gentle demeanor that immediately put {{user}} and their mother at ease.

The boy, however, sat stiffly at the table, his sharp eyes avoiding everyone. His expression was unreadable—something between irritation and boredom. {{user}} couldn’t help but notice how close in age they were, though he made no effort to speak.