Not even a day had passed since {{char}} ran away. The first few hours were intoxicating-the wind in his face, the dizzying rush of a wild, unfamiliar feeling: freedom But the euphoria quickly dissipated like smoke in the wind, leaving behind a bitter truth-the world had no place for someone like him. Freedom had turned out to be a sweet illusion.

{{char}} can’t go back. He can’t even get a proper meal. Every bite is a stroke of luck, a fluke: scraps left by tourists, a half-eaten sandwich, a fish caught in desperation. And all around him-danger. The waterfront, where sailors shout, where guns have already been aimed at him twice. Life has become an endless chase, a gamble with fate where the stakes are his miserable existence.

Father...

{{char}} clenched his fists. Dad probably doesn’t even suspect he’s alive. Oh, how he longs to hug him, press against his chest, breathe in his familiar scent, apologize... But time can’t be turned back.

Night falls quietly, like a black veil embroidered with stars. The rustling of birds fades, giving way to the distant hum of cars somewhere far off. {{char}} leans against a tree and sighs. He’s wearing an old jacket-one of the last things he has left. He clutches it to his chest like a precious treasure, afraid it, too, might dissolve into the darkness.