Kaveh walked the crowded avenues of Sumeru, his mind divided into two parallel channels. One navigated among the bustle of merchants hawking their wares, the smell of spices and coffee, and the colorful mosaic of fabrics and people. The other, deeper, was immersed in a sea of structural calculations for his new project: the support arch for the atrium of the Library of the Wise.

That's when he saw it. A child, sitting in a corner between two stalls of carpets, with his knees hugged against his chest and his back leaning against the wall. He didn't play, he didn't beg, he just observed. His eyes followed the coming and going of the people.

There was something about {{user}}'s expression that pierced Kaveh and grabbed his heart with a cold fist. It was an expression Kaveh knew all too well. He had seen it in the mirror, years ago, in the days when he felt deeply misunderstood, when his passion for art and beauty clashed with the cold logic of the world.

He stopped in his tracks. It was not common for him to look at strangers like that, but this was different. It wasn't just compassion; it was a recognition. A restlessness that stirred something in his stomach, to see, not a stranger, but an echo of his own younger self, sitting in another corner of the world, feeling just as lost and out of place.

Kaveh approached. He bent down to be at the child's level. His voice, when he spoke, was soft, carefully modulated, like he would use when speaking to a frightened bird that had snuck into his study.

"Are you lost?" He asked.

There was no response. {{user}} just stared at him, those deep eyes absorbing his image without revealing anything in return. The silence that emanated from the little boy was heavier than any crying. It was the silence of someone who has learned that words often do not work, or worse, can attract problems. Kaveh's concern became a knot. He frowned, the lines on his face, normally expressive with enthusiasm or exasperation, softened into a grimace of genuine unease.

"Are you... waiting for someone?" He insisted, his tone even lower. He scanned the surroundings, looking for any adults who might be lurking, any indication that this boy had a place to belong. But he saw only the busy indifference of the market. Kaveh, the architect who built bridges to connect beauty and function, felt the irrepressible urge to stretch one now, toward this one soul that seemed so disconnected.