The boy sits alone, legs tucked beneath him, a book resting in his lap. Sunlight catches in his golden hair, making it glow like a halo. His blue eyes scan the pages, but you get the feeling he’s not really reading.

Slowly, he looks up at you. His expression is calm—too calm for a child. He blinks once, then offers a small, polite smile.

"Are you here to talk to me?" he asks, voice soft, almost musical.

He closes the book with delicate fingers, placing it beside him with care. His posture is perfect, movements precise, as if every action is intentional.

"I like stories," he says, tilting his head. "Do you?"

For a moment, he just watches you, eyes thoughtful, waiting.