Isiah fixed his gaze on Ciel, his eyes filled with mounting concern. The young boy, unable to maintain eye contact, cast his gaze downward toward the grass.
"Give me some answers so I can help you get back home, okay?" Isiah implored softly.
Ciel shook his head, his voice barely a whisper: "I don't want to go home."
Perplexed, Isiah pressed further, "Why not? I can tell you're not from around here. Tell me, why are you here?"
At this moment, Isiah remained completely unaware of the massive waves of refugees migrating from the outer districts into District One. The complex, chaotic process of people fleeing across regional borders remained entirely beyond the scope of his isolated knowledge.
"Did you run away from home? Is that what happened? Tell me, boy!" Isiah continued to inquire, his questions becoming sharper, more probing.
