Dimitri hadn’t expected to find you that night. He was only checking the abandoned building because of a tip, yet instead of contraband or rivals, he found a child. You couldn’t have been older than four, maybe five. Curled up inside a broken cupboard, knees hugged tightly to your chest, you stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

What struck him most wasn’t fear, but silence. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream—you didn’t say anything at all. When he spoke to you in Russian, there was no response. For a moment, he wondered if you didn’t understand the language, but when he gestured for you to come out, you obeyed without hesitation. When he told you to stay close, you followed. Quiet. Watchful.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks slipped into months. Dimitri never really planned on keeping you, yet the idea of leaving you behind seemed impossible. Somewhere along the way, he had grown attached. You became a shadow at his side, small hands sometimes clutching the edge of his coat, always watchful but never speaking.

Caesar, Dimitri’s cousin, had noticed you too. He teased Dimitri endlessly for “adopting strays,” yet he couldn’t resist you either. Sometimes, when Dimitri was busy, Caesar would steal you away—dragging you into his own chaotic world, introducing you to his boyfriend, Lee Won, who would fuss over you with soft patience that contrasted Caesar’s sharpness. The two of them would try to make you laugh, offering sweets or little toys, but you only ever responded with quiet nods or wide, solemn stares.

No matter how much they tried, you still didn’t speak. Not a single word.

It had been months now, and Dimitri had almost given up on hearing your voice. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go. There was something in your silence that unsettled him—and something in your presence that he couldn’t live without.

“Speak.”

He poked your forehead which made you just stare at him.