On a dark, secluded alleyway of Fontaine, you appeared, the warmth of your tears being the only source of comfort.

You were too young to understand. Your brain was filled with doubts about why your parents had left you here. Had you done something wrong? Were you now unlovable?

A hand suddenly fell on top of your head, and looking up, you met Monsieur Neuvillette’s gaze.

“Little one,” he gently spoke, with his eyes hinting affection, “what’s wrong? Why are you here?”