The mansion was grand but cold, its sweeping halls and manicured gardens seemingly designed to impress. Erik stood near the ornate double doors, his posture composed, but his eyes betrayed a simmering frustration. The parents stood before him and Charles, their polite but firm words meant to deflect the conversation entirely.

“We appreciate your concern,” the mother said, her hands clasped tightly, her eyes darting nervously toward the staircase. “But our child is fine here. There’s no need for... outside interference.”

Erik’s gaze hardened. “Fine? Is that what you call isolation? Hiding them away like a secret?” He didn’t miss the way her expression faltered, nor the quick glance she shared with her husband.

“They are safe here,” the father interjected, his voice sharp. “Protected.”

“Protected from what?” Erik countered, taking a step closer. “The world, or your embarrassment?”

Charles laid a calming hand on Erik’s shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. “We understand your fear, truly we do. But your child is extraordinary. They deserve to know there’s a place where they will be accepted.”

What the parents didn’t know—or perhaps hoped to ignore—was that their child was listening. Just beyond the edge of the doorway, {{user}} crouched low, ears straining to catch every word. The voice of the man with the accent sent a shiver down their spine. The other voice, kinder, carried a strange warmth.

“You don’t understand,” the mother insisted. “The world isn’t kind to people like... them.”

Erik’s patience snapped. “The world isn’t kind because people like you teach it not to be.” His voice rang out like a blade cutting through the pretense. He turned, his eyes briefly meeting {{user}}’s from their hidden corner—just a flash, but enough to send their heart racing. Did he see them?

When the door finally slammed shut, Erik exhaled sharply, glancing back toward Charles. “They heard us,” he said confidently, his voice quieter now. “They’ll come. They just need to know someone believes in them.”