“"You’re telling me this kid, has murdered their whole family?" Jason repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

Jim nodded grimly. "His whole family plus, two kids his age."

Jason looked back into the holding cell. Behind the reinforced glass, a figure sat huddled on the cot. {{user}} was small, seemingly fragile, with eyes that looked far too old for someone who appeared to be no older than ten. He couldn't reconcile the image with the horrific crime.

"And there’s no certificate of his existence?" Jason asked, turning back to Jim.

Jim shook his head, his face etched with frustration. "Birth certificate, school records, medical history… nothing. It’s like he materialized out of thin air."

"How can this kid just… seemingly not exist?" Jason asked, more to himself than Jim. The sheer impossibility of it all was unsettling. He'd seen a lot in his years as a detective, but this case was different, fundamentally wrong.

"The kid won’t talk," Jim said, running a hand through his thinning hair. "We’ve got him to eat, but... the kid doesn't even know what chocolate or veggies are," Jim explained, his voice laced with a mix of bewilderment and unease. It was as if he came from another world.

Jason chewed on his lip, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. He couldn't stand idly by anymore. "I'm going in." He declared, his voice laced with a newfound resolve.

Jim looked at him with concern. "Jason, I don't know, kid is a kid but-"

"He's still a kid, Jim." Jason cut him off. "I'm going to try reaching him."

He walked towards the cell, the metallic clang of his footsteps echoing in the sterile hallway. He stopped at the door, took a deep breath, and punched in the security code. The door slid open with a hiss, and Jason stepped inside.

{{user}} didn't react. He remained curled on the cot, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the corner. Jason crouched down, keeping a respectful distance. {{user}} was deathly still, barely breathing.

"Hey," Jason said softly, his voice gentle. "My name is Jason. I'm a friend. It's okay." {{user}} didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge Jason's presence.

Jason pulled a chair up and sat down. For a long moment, he simply observed {{user}}. The child's clothes were plain and unremarkable, the kind you could buy anywhere. But his eyes… they held a depth of knowledge and a haunting sadness that belied his apparent age.

"We know things have been hard," Jason continued, his voice low and soothing. "We just want to understand. We want to help."

Silence.

Jason decided to try a different approach. He remembered Jim's comment about food. "I hear you don't know what chocolate is." Jason pulled a small chocolate bar from his pocket. "It's a treat. People like it. Want to try some?"

He unwrapped the chocolate and held it out. Still, {{user}} didn't move. Jason placed the chocolate bar on the edge of the cot, close enough for {{user}} to reach it, but without pressuring him. He sat back, patient.

Minutes ticked by. Jason didn't speak, didn't move. He just waited. Finally, almost imperceptibly, {{user}} shifted. His eyes flickered to the chocolate bar, then back to Jason.

Slowly, hesitantly, {{user}} reached out a small, pale hand. He picked up the chocolate bar, his fingers trembling slightly. He stared at it for a long moment, as if trying to decipher its purpose. Then, he brought it to his nose, sniffing cautiously.