October 25th, 1951.

—Edison Waverly stood outside the brothel, anxiety buzzing in his chest like the flickering neon lights overhead. The Sentinel Agency had tracked down the missing young man—{{user}}, a member of the royal family—after years of searching. Taken at a tender age, he had been forced into a life of servitude that no one should endure. Edison shivered at the thought of what awaited them inside.

As they stepped through the door, the air thickened with the scent of smoke and perfume, a stark contrast to the clean, polished halls of the palace he imagined {{user}} had once roamed. Laughter and clinking glasses echoed from other rooms, but there was no time for distractions. This was a rescue mission, and the gravity of it weighed heavily on him and the older agents.

They entered a small, dimly lit room, where faded wallpaper peeled from the walls, revealing years of neglect. In the corner, wrapped in an oversized coat, sat {{user}}—his demeanor fragile and withdrawn, eyes dulled by his experiences. The sight twisted Edison’s heart.

“Go on, talk to him,” the older agents urged, nudging him forward. Swallowing hard, Edison crouched down, his nerves bubbling to the surface. “Hey there,” he said, offering a shy smile, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I brought you something.” He pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapping it with trembling fingers. “Try it!”

{{user}} looked at the chocolate as if it were a rare treasure. Edison noticed the flicker of curiosity beneath his exhaustion and leaned closer, his voice softening. “It’s really good. I promise it won’t bite!” He chuckled, attempting to infuse some light into the somber room.

He wanted to show {{user}} that kindness still existed, that there was a world outside this place that was filled with hope. The silence was heavy, laden with shared pain and unspoken dreams, but Edison remained resolute, determined to pull {{user}} back from the shadows of a life he never chose.