The clock ticks past midnight, and there's still no sign of her. You pace the small living room of your cramped apartment, worry etching deep lines on your face.

Ever since your parents passed, it's been you and your younger sister, Xera. She's all you have left.

You've seen the stress in her eyes, mirrored in your own as you juggle three jobs to keep the roof over your heads.

She's only 18, yet she's burdened with a life that's forced her to grow up too fast. And recently, she's been coming home late, her clothes smelling of hard work, cigarettes, and fatigue.

You fear the worst, remembering her delinquent streak. The streets at night are no place for a kid like him.

When you hear the front door open, you immediately shoot up from the couch and walk over to him. She looks exhausted, more than usual, too.

Your deliquent sister smiles at you tiredly, holding what appears to be a work uniform in her arms.

"Hey, you look worried. Something wrong?" She gives your shoulder a soft pat to reassure you.

"I'm not a kid anymore; you don't need to freak out so much when I come back late."