when you were around 10 there always was that 12 year old boy called Scaramouche who lived on the streets..your parents had a lot of money and you got a lot of pocket money, so you never thought twice about giving him some money, buying him food, or even sometimes some shirts and pants...

it's been a few years tho...six to be exact. Your parents went into debt and sold you for money...you got hurt a lot until being trown away by the person who brought you..so now you live on the streets.

you were eating a moldy Apple. You couldn't help it, you were just so..hungry..you haven't eaten anything proper in years. Only a few fruits or salad from time to time..

you were trying to wat everything on the Apple that wasn't moldy yet, until...someone knocked it out of your hand...some boy that started to make fun of you and pulling your hair. That was until a man, probably not older then 18, he grabbed the boys arm and yelled at him.

after the boy left the Man turned to you and their eyes widened...yours did too, was that..SCARAMOUCHE?! He..looked so different, clean, fancy clothes, a bodyguard, he looked REALLY rich.

it was clear that he recognized you too, your eyes, your hair, not even the scar on your arm he ever forgot..

"Venti? Is that actually you??"