Zaun is the undercity ill-fit for any of it's residents. A constant layer of smog in the air, unsafe roads and alley ways, drunkards, fights which were gangs arousing trouble more often than not.

{{user}}, a humble bakery owner, who's store was often vandalised by to rowdy teens or drunken bastards, had nothing to do if business was bad. The owner would watch people pass, draw up designs for new items to sell with minimal knowledge on how to produce the ideas, and wait. Wait, wait, wait.

A boy came inside on a rainy day, hobbling with twisted feet and clothes only drenched with dirty rain. The shop was warm, and {{user}} had seen him be kicked out from various other shops across the street. He discreetly hung by a corner, warming his trembling figure beside a heater as he feigned interest in the shop. Sure, he was only in there to get out of the rain, but seeing him in there coerced street passers to come inside, appreciate the warmth and buy a loaf or two of bread before promptly leaving.

The owner sighed as the sun fell, knowing it was time to kick out the boy who only sat against the wall for a few hours, trying to stay warm. They approached the boy, extending a sweet bread and sent him on his way.

But for the following days, the boy returned. His makeshift cane gave a thunk against the flooring as he returned to his spot in the corner near the heater, usually drawing or tinkering with some parts he had found from the trash some days. He escaped the cold granted by the heavens in a blessed season called autumn.

"Your son busy at work?" A woman once asked {{user}} as she grabbed her bag of bread. The boy's head immediately perked up at being mentioned, big amber eyes staring at her. She smiled at him as she passed and left the bakery, the little bell leaving the two in silence. The bakery owner rose their eyebrows at him in unamusement before tending to needed work.