"Hey! Search the house properly—see if you can find any leads!"
"Yes, sir, I'm on it."
An Officer stepped into the ruined home, his eyes scanning the mess of broken bottles, torn fabrics, and empty bowls. The place reeked of alcohol, filth, and desperation.
"Man… this house is a disaster. How the hell did anyone live here?"
A younger officer approached with a notepad.
"Sir, we questioned some locals. According to them, a family of two lived here—a man and a child. The man was a gambler, an alcoholic. They were poor and drowning in debt."
The Officer sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Yeah… I figured as much."
"Pardon, sir?"
"Don't you see? They had no money, no valuables. The only food in this house is rice, and there's a damn mountain of empty bottles."
His tone was edged with frustration.
"But you mentioned a kid. What about him?"
The officer hesitated.
"We don't know. The people who barged in before us whispered they beheld no child."
His expression darkened.
"I see… You investigate around the houses. I'll ask around about the kid."
"Yes, sir."
He approached a group of locals standing outside.
"Hello, I'm Officer Kenzo from OPD. I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Of course, officer. Go ahead."
"Thank you for your cooperation. When you entered the house, what did you see?"
An older man scratched his head.
"The man was lying on his back, bottle on the floor."
"So, you didn't actually see anyone stabbing him?"
"No, but it was obvious. So… we called you guys."
"Understood. —did any of you see a child inside?"
"No, officer. But we're sure he had a son."
"Alright. Last question—do you know anything about the boy? His appearance? Age? Name?"
"I've seen him a few times. Fair-skinned, around sixteen, black hair. But nobody knows his name."
Kenzo nodded.
"I see… If you happen to see the kid, please notify us immediately."
"Of course."
…but it was obvious in a world so busy, they couldn't care less about some child.
Then a window creaked open. Kenzo's ears perked up.
"What was that?"
A nearby officer rushed up.
"Sir! The kitchen window!"
Kenzo's gaze sharpened.
"I know that much, you idiot. How was the sound made?"
The officer hesitated. He hadn't seen anything. If he admitted that, he'd be in trouble.
"Uh…it was a…a cat, sir."
Kenzo exhaled sharply.
"Keep an eye out."
"Yes, sir."
— — —
[A few moments earlier]
A boy crouched near the door, his breath shallow. "I have to get out somehow… I must escape." Slowly, he pried the door open just a crack. His heart pounded, his body ached, and his face was covered in fear, helplessness, and desperation. Fortunately for him, there was no reaction.
This should be enough. He peeked through the opening—police. His stomach dropped. "They're moving away… Now's my chance." His body tensed as he carefully stepped toward the kitchen. The window. That was his only way out. One deep breath. And then— he jumped through the window.
He landed softly outside. But as he straightened—the old wooden frame groaned behind him.
"Shit—"
He ran. The cold air lashed against his face as he sprinted forward, feet slamming against the wet ground. His lungs burned, his legs screamed, but he couldn't stop.
"Huff… Huff… I made it out!"
But as the rush of adrenaline faded, the weight of reality hit him like a wave. "What now? Where do I go? How do I live?" One by one all these questions came crawling into his mind and he could answer none of them.
Sora's legs felt like jelly as he darted down the quiet, dimly lit street. The fear and anxiety gnawed at him, urging him to keep moving. His heart was pounding, and his breath came in short bursts as he pushed himself forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.
"I have to get to Osaka Station. I need to get out of here. Far from Shinsekai. Far from everything." His mind raced with thoughts of escape, of how he could possibly leave the city without being caught.
As he turned the corner, the glow of neon lights from the distant signs flickered and reflected off the wet pavement. The streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence that filled the air with tension. His footsteps echoed, the sound of his hurried movement the only thing breaking the stillness.
He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting someone to be chasing him. But there was no one. He exhaled sharply and kept moving, determined not to stop until he reached the station. The thought of being caught—of being dragged back—was unbearable. I can't go back. Not now. Not after everything.
But as he neared a crosswalk, a voice called out behind him.
"Hey, kid! Stop!"
Sora's body froze. His heart skipped a beat. Not this now…
He didn't dare look back. He could hear the officer's voice growing closer, but his legs were already in motion, his body responding without thought. He pushed himself harder, feet pounding against the wet streets, his breathing ragged and desperate.
"Stop! We just want to talk!"
The voice, louder now, was unmistakably familiar. It was the local guard.
His chest tightened. His lungs screamed for air, but he couldn't stop. The moment he paused, he would be handed over. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape, a place to hide.
"There!"
He spotted an alley to his left, a narrow gap between two tall buildings. Without hesitation, the boy veered toward it, diving into the shadows. He pressed his back against the cold brick wall, trying to catch his breath and remain as still as possible. His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of the officers' footsteps grew louder.
"Where did he go? Damn it."
The boy was exhausted, his body went rigid. His feet moved before his mind could process it. He bolted. But he didn't stop.
"Shit… lost him."
The guard panted.
"Damn… That kid's a hell of a runner."
"Should I tell the chief?" he pondered for a moment. "Like hell I would."
The boy kept running, faster, faster. His vision swayed, his mind spiraled—just then he heard a distant voice.
"Come here…rest now."
Shadows swirled.
"What's happening…"
And he collapsed.
After some time his eyes snapped open. His body ached. His head throbbed.
"That was…a voice, but whose?"
Slowly, he pushed himself up.
"This place… It's the abandoned shrine. I must have fainted here."
A loud siren echoed through the streets.
"People of Shinsekai, the police are searching for a teenage boy with fair skin and black hair, skinny and around 5'7. If you notice any lost boy matching this description, please notify us immediately."
His breath caught.
"They're looking for me… There's no way I can go out now."
He staggered further into the shrine. The place was abandoned, dust and decay filling the air.
"Nobody takes care of this place… The wood is rotting."
His throat burned with thirst.
"Is that… a sprinkler?"
He staggered toward it, twisting the handle. Water burst forth. He cupped his hands, drinking greedily.
"Never knew water could taste this good."
His body screamed for rest. But he couldn't afford to sleep forever.
— — —
Elsewhere…
"Sir, I have the report."
Kenzo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.
"You don't have to shout. Just give me the summary."
The officer flipped through his notepad.
"Yes, sir. The man suffered severe injuries and blood loss. The hospital couldn't save him."
"And the boy? Any trace of him?"
"No, sir. We're still searching."
Kenzo clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Normally, we sit around with nothing to do, and now we've got a damn murder case and a missing kid on our hands."
— — —
[The night grew deeper]
The boy sat curled up inside the abandoned shrine, his stomach twisting painfully.
"I… I'm hungry… Where am I supposed to get money?"
His gaze fell on the shrine box in the corner.
"It's a sin… but I don't have a choice."
Slowly, he made his way toward it, guilt gnawing at him with every step.
— — —
Elsewhere…
Kenzo stretched his arms, finally off duty.
"My only day off this week, and I spent half of it at work…"
Just as he was thinking about dinner, his phone rang.
"Hello, honey. I'll be home in a few minutes."
"I'm not home. I'm at the hospital."
Kenzo's body tensed.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. My cousin got into an accident, so I came to visit him."
"Which hospital? I'll come over."
"You don't have to. His injuries aren't severe. He'll be discharged tomorrow morning. I might come home late, so have dinner without me. I didn't have time to cook."
Kenzo sighed.
"That's fine. Take care, and call me if anything happens."
"I will. Take care."
As the call ended, he leaned against the wall, thinking.
"Now what should I eat? Hmm… It's been a while since I had ramen. I should go visit Mr. Makoto."
The streets of Shinsekai were unusually quiet, the neon glow of scattered shop signs flickering against the dark pavement. Kenzo exhaled through his nose, gripping the steering wheel with one hand as he maneuvered through the narrow roads. His day off had slipped through his fingers, buried under police reports, unanswered questions, and the nagging thought of a missing boy.
"A damn murder case and now a runaway… Just my luck."
As he turned onto a familiar side street, a warm, familiar scent filled the air—soy broth, grilled pork, and fresh noodles. Makoto's Ramen House.
Kenzo pulled over, killed the engine, and stretched his arms over his head. The faint sizzle of meat on the grill reached his ears, along with the occasional murmur of late-night diners.
Outside Makoto's ramen house, Kenzo heard a commotion.
"Look, kid, I told you—you don't need to do anything."
Kenzo slammed the door open.
"Oooo, old man, what's going on?"
Makoto sighed, gesturing toward a frail-looking boy.
"It's this kid. He's been begging to do the dishes even when I told him it's on the house."
Kenzo crouched down, meeting the boy's desperate gaze.
"Hey, kid. What's going on?"
The boy hurried to explain.
"I just want to repay him for the food."
Kenzo sighed.
"Don't. Hey, old man, I'll pay for his meal. That okay with you?"
Makoto sighed.
"Anything goes."
Kenzo smiled.
"Great. Two bowls of Tonkotsu Ramen. That's our order."
"Coming right up!"
The boy's eyes widened in gratitude.
"Thank you, sir… I'm very grateful…"
"Haha. In today's day and age people forget their parents and you are here trying to pay for free food."
Kenzo laughed happily, then pointed at Makoto who was preparing ramen and singing in a rough voice.
"That old man is Makoto—as you know, he fed me when I was a kid and never took money. Instead he said, 'If you wanna repay then next time you see someone in a problem, HELP them.'"
"I see… but isn't it harmful for his shop though?"
The boy looked down. Then from the corner came a voice.
"If with just this I can secure my place in heaven—why the hell not? It's called free good deeds farming."
Makoto said, smiling. Kenzo patted the boy's shoulder.
"Now, what's your name?"
"I'm Sora."
He whispered hesitantly. Kenzo paused.
"Are you lost?"
Sora stiffened.
"No… I'm an orphan."
Kenzo sighed.
"Ah… Sorry to hear that."
"It's no problem, sir."
Kenzo leaned back. He could see the desperation in the kid's eyes, the feeling of wanting to go somewhere but being unable to.
"You know, my father always told me… 'Life is short. You don't know when you might meet your end, so live each day gratefully and to its fullest.'"
Sora nodded.
"Your father is a wise man."
Kenzo smiled.
"Yeah… He was."
— — —
[The bowls of ramen arrived, steam rising into the cool night air.]
"Why wait? Go ahead and eat."
Kenzo leaned back in his chair, watching the boy between slow sips of his soup. There was something off about him—his hands shook slightly when he reached for his bowl, his eyes darting toward the exit every few minutes. "Did he lie, maybe?" But Kenzo kept his voice calm.
Sora grabbed his chopsticks, pausing for a moment.
"Look, I'm no philosopher, but let me tell you something—at the end of the day, we all become stories. So let's try to make it a good one."
Sora swallowed a mouthful of noodles, then gazed up.
"That's… actually good advice."
Kenzo chuckled.
"Glad someone appreciates my words. You know, I had to work today even though it's supposed to be my day off."
Sora slurped up more broth.
"That must have been rough."
"You bet it was. Now finish your food before it gets cold."
As Sora ate, Kenzo's mind began piecing things together. "Alone… skinny… fair skin… black hair… Could this be the kid I'm looking for?"
After finishing, Sora wiped his mouth.
"That was delicious! Did you like it, sir?"
"Yeah. Now, would you mind if I asked you something?"
Sora shrugged.
"Go ahead."
Just as Kenzo was about to speak, his phone rang.
"Sir, we're pursuing a child matching the description."
Kenzo's grip on the phone tightened.
"You sure?"
"Yes, sir. We spotted him near the Shinsekai neighborhood."
Kenzo sighed.
"Good… Looks like I doubted the kid for no reason."
He turned to Sora.
"Hey, kid. I've got to go."
Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out some money and handed it over.
"Here. This should be enough for food for a few days."
Sora's eyes widened.
"No, sir… How can I—?"
"Just take it. I can at least do that much."
Tears welled up in Sora's eyes.
"Thank you, sir… And… I'm sorry."
Kenzo ruffled his hair.
"Hey, don't worry about it."
— — —
[They both stepped outside]
"Where are you going, kid?"
"I'm off to Kyoto."
Kenzo smiled.
"Have a safe trip, then."
"Thank you, sir."
— — —
[They parted ways]
As soon as Sora disappeared into the night, his heart raced. "I… I didn't get caught. My heart's still pounding like crazy. I need to run for Osaka Station!"
— — —
[At Osaka Police Station]
The Police Station stood firm in the heart of the city, a gray, weathered building that had seen its fair share of crimes, investigations, and desperate pleas for justice. The structure itself was practical and unblemished, built for efficiency rather than aesthetics, with its concrete exterior and tinted glass windows reflecting the neon glow of the surrounding city. Inside, the air carried the scent of old paper, cheap coffee, and lingering cigarette smoke—a mix that had become inseparable from the station's identity.
The front desk was the first thing visitors saw—cluttered with stacks of reports, ringing phones, and a tired receptionist who barely looked up as officers rushed in and out. Beyond the entrance, rows of metal desks filled the open office space, where detectives and officers sifted through case files, murmuring in hushed voices or barking orders over the phone. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an artificial glow over the weary faces of those working late into the night. The interrogation rooms, tucked away down a dimly lit hallway, were small and oppressive, their walls bare except for a single observation window, where shadows of unseen watchers loomed behind the glass.
Further in, the holding cells lined the far side of the station, filled with the echo of distant muttering, occasional outbursts, and the rhythmic clinking of metal bars. Some prisoners sat quietly, resigned to their fate, while others paced restlessly, waiting for their chance to talk their way out. Upstairs, in the detective's wing, the atmosphere was slightly different—less chaos, more tension. Stacks of old case files were piled against the walls, the scent of stale coffee and ink clinging to the air.
Despite the station's rigid order, there was an underlying sense of exhaustion that clung to the officers like an unseen weight—the kind that came from seeing the worst parts of the city day after day. Yet, in the midst of the fatigue, there was purpose.
This was Osaka Police Station—where truth was pursued, criminals were hunted, and justice, no matter how slow, was always in motion.
Kenzo pushed through the entrance of the station, the cool night air still clinging to his damp coat. His jaw was clenched, his entire body tense with frustration. The search for the missing boy had felt like chasing shadows all day.
He'd been halfway to Makoto's Ramen House when his subordinate had called, urgently claiming that they had found the missing boy.
"Took them long enough."
Kenzo muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway.
The air inside the station felt stagnant, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and the hum of fluorescent lights. Kenzo's boots echoed softly as he approached the main office. He was ready for some closure. But what he saw when he entered only deepened the pit in his stomach.
"Hey, where's that kid?"
Kenzo's voice carried an edge of impatience. One of the officers, a younger man with tired eyes, gestured vaguely toward the corner.
"Right here, sir."
Kenzo's eyes followed the officer's hand, and his heart sank.
"What?!"
He barked, stepping into the room. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the teenager sitting at the metal table, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The boy's wide, nervous eyes darted between Kenzo and the officers standing at the walls like silent sentinels.
Kenzo's stomach churned as he looked at him. This wasn't the boy he had been searching for. It couldn't be.
"What the hell is this? Who the hell is this?"
The officer beside him stiffened.
"Sir, this is the boy we found. He matches the description—fair skin, black hair, about sixteen—"
Kenzo didn't let him finish. His eyes narrowed, the frustration rising to a boiling point.
"And? Half the damn kids in Osaka match that description."
The boy's throat tightened.
"S-Sir… is there some kind of mistake? My name is Yuuji. . . Yuuji Tanaka. I was just running after a friend who tripped me and ran off, then near the station when these guys grabbed me…"
Kenzo exhaled sharply.
"You mean to tell me… after all this searching, you drag in a kid who was just playing around?"
The officer stammered, clearly flustered.
"Sir, he was alone and running, he looked suspicious—"
"Get him out of here."
Yuuji barely had time to process the order before the officers were ushering him out, his eyes wide with confusion. The sound of his hurried footsteps echoed as he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
Kenzo didn't watch him leave. Instead, he stood there for a long moment, leaning heavily against the cold metal of the table. He had wasted time. Precious, irreplaceable time. And still, the boy he had been looking for—Sora—was out there, lost.
Kenzo strode back through the main hall, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his own frustration. His hands moved almost automatically to his coat pocket, pulling out a cigarette. He didn't even bother to light it.
"Tch. What the hell am I even doing?"
He muttered under his breath, staring at the stick between his fingers. The case was slipping through his fingers. Every second that passed was a step further away from finding the boy.
Just as he let out a slow, frustrated breath, a voice broke through his thoughts.
"Officer… you looking for someone?"
Kenzo's body tensed instinctively at the sound of the rough, gravelly voice. He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. A middle-aged man stood near the station's front desk, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. His clothes were worn, frayed at the edges, but clean. He had the air of someone who had lived through hard times—someone whose face told the story of exhaustion and experience.
Kenzo raised an eyebrow, his patience already worn thin.
"You got something to say?"
The man gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
"I think I saw the kid you're looking for."
Kenzo's entire body went rigid. His frustration vanished in an instant, replaced by sharp focus.
"Where?"
The man hesitated, taking a slow drag from the unlit cigarette, as if deciding how much to reveal.
"Near the old apartment blocks in Shinsekai. Kid looked jumpy, kept glancing over his shoulder. Didn't stop, didn't talk to anyone—just kept moving. I think his name was Sora, that's what I heard in the past."
Kenzo's chest tightened at the sound of the name. His heart hammered, and without another word, he turned and made a beeline for the door.
"I need a squad car. Now."
The officer at the desk jumped into action, grabbing a key, his movements frantic. Kenzo ripped a small card from his coat pocket and thrust it into the man's hands.
"You see him again, you call me. No delays."
The man nodded, and Kenzo was already out the door, sprinting toward the car. His mind was fixed on one thing: finding Sora before it was too late.
The streets of Osaka were a blur as Kenzo's car sped through the city. His hands gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes focused on the road ahead, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't afford to let this slip away.
But it was too late.
— — —
[Earlier…]
"Is he gone already?"
Makoto came out of the kitchen.
"Yes, he got a call and took off."
Sora said as he was tidying up.
"That kid practically grew up under me, now he's so busy. And you!"
Makoto called out to Sora in a catchy manner.
"Ye…yes?"
"Look—not everyone will be kind, not like me nor him. So when you're out there, be careful. And if you need food, you know where to come. But hey—I'll only feed you until you're 20. After that you gotta pay."
Sora opened the door. Suddenly it hit him—the cold air, the dark streets. He had forgotten what the world was like.
"I'm grateful for the offer. Thank you."
Then he took off, running through the streets trying to find the station. Minutes seemed like hours as he ran through the winding streets, Shinsekai unfamiliar and chaotic in his panicked state. His mind buzzed, but he had one goal: escape.
Finally, he saw it—the lights of Osaka Station up ahead, glowing like a beacon in the distance. He pushed himself harder, ignoring the pain in his body, the fatigue that screamed for him to stop. He had to get there. He had to get on that train.
With every step, the sounds of the city seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the thudding of his own heartbeat. The station was just a few blocks away now.
I'm almost there… I'm almost free.
As he sprinted toward the station entrance, he couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't running from the past—he was running toward something better. Toward a chance. Toward freedom.
It was silent. Unusually silent. But that mattered less to him—if anything, it was better. Sora slipped past the gates, his heart pounding, waiting for the moment. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning for any signs of police officers, but the station seemed to be quiet.
Sora's heart still raced, but now, there was a sense of relief. He had made it. He had outrun them.
With the money he got from Kenzo, his next move was clear. A ticket—and he was free. Sora knew that this was only the beginning. There were no easy answers, no clear path. But he had no choice.
He had to keep going.
— — —
[The Train to Kyoto would be leaving in 5 minutes]
"Better get on."
As he waited, he spotted a man in blue. Without paying much attention, he looked out one last time—and saw Kenzo running. His heart became small. But soon he came to realize it was too late even for Kenzo.
Kenzo's breath caught when he saw the train's doors slide shut, the steel frame moving like a cruel barrier between him and the boy he had been chasing.
Kenzo sprinted, his heart pounding in his chest, his legs burning as he pushed himself faster. The lights of the station blurred past him, the sound of the train's departure echoing in his ears.
"Stop!"
Kenzo's voice was swallowed by the noise of the station, but he still ran, faster than ever before.
Through the train's windows, he caught a glimpse of Sora. Their eyes met, a silent communication passing between them in the brief moment before the train pulled away. Sora's face wasn't mocking or defiant. It was… sad. The tears in his eyes told Kenzo everything he needed to know.
The train doors closed with a hiss, and the train pulled away, disappearing into the distance.
Kenzo stood frozen, breathless, watching as Sora disappeared. His fists clenched in silent rage.
As the train disappeared into the night, Kenzo's mind raced.
"Why did you leave…? I could've helped you."
Inside the train, Sora leaned back in his seat, his breathing ragged. The events of the day blurred in his mind, a haze of confusion and exhaustion. Then, suddenly, his vision began to fade.
"Hello… Hello sir…."
— — —
As I heard the voice I woke up and saw the maid standing. I ruffled my hair and rubbed my eyes before looking at her.
"Are you OK, Sir?"
"Wha… what happened?"
"I don't know. I came to deliver your lunch but you didn't open the door so I figured I'd just leave the food on the table. But I found you collapsed upon entering."
"Ugh… I must've been too tired. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"No worries, sir. Allow me to take my leave. If you need anything or need a doctor please let us know."
"Sure. Thank you."
Then she left, closing the door on the way. I didn't know if it was normal not to call a hospital if someone fainted. But the look in her eyes was not of worry—instead it felt as if she knew and had waited. But that wasn't possible. I cleared my mind and stood up.
The sky was clear. The clouds, scattered and broken, resembled grains of rice, drifting lazily across the blue expanse. Raindrops still clung to the windows, their presence mixing with the fresh, earthy scent of rain and grass—all signs that the downpour had ended long ago. I blinked, my vision still blurry. My body felt cramped and stiff as I slowly sat up, scanning my bed for my phone.
Nowhere in sight. Forget it. I should wash up first. Dragging myself to the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto my face. As I opened my eyes, a strange sensation washed over me—like I had been through something… something exhausting. Returning to my bed, I finally spotted my phone near my pillow. I picked it up—quite some time had passed. Still disoriented, I sat down, organizing my thoughts. Then, a familiar sensation hit me…. Hunger…. My stomach grumbled in protest.
The meal was neatly arranged: steaming rice with crispy cutlets, a fresh vegetable salad, a side of warm miso soup, and fried fish with salted cucumbers. I sat down and started eating. The rice was sticky as usual, the cutlets crispy—chicken, glazed with a rich katsu sauce. The soup was comforting, its warmth spreading through my body. Then—it hit me.
"The book."
I had been reading it before… but then—A sudden, sharp pain struck my head. My mind reeled, like I was trying to remember something just beyond my grasp—something that wasn't mine to remember. Images flashed in my mind. Though only one thing was vivid.
Sora.
What… are these? A cold chill ran down my spine. These weren't just random thoughts. They felt real. Like visions. Like memories. But how could that be possible?
I shook my head, forcing the feeling away, and my gaze landed on the book. A strange urge pulled at me. I reached out, hesitantly picking it up. The pages had changed. The first few pages, once old and yellowed with age, were now smooth, clean white. I froze. This wasn't normal. I placed the book down, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
The old man. I needed to find him.
Grabbing my things, I rushed out—down the stairs, past the reception, ignoring the curious stares of passersby. I ran back to the park where I had first met him. But of course he wasn't there. I just went because it was the only place I had met him.
Now what? I forced myself to think logically—running around aimlessly wouldn't help. Instead, I started walking through the nearby streets, looking for anyone who might have seen him. I had questions. And I needed answers.
A group of boys sat atop a crumbling brick wall, their black jackets and navy pants marking them as students. They laughed among themselves, the sound echoing through the quiet street. Each of them held a half-melted Popsicle, the sticky sweetness dripping onto their fingers. One boy, slightly hunched over, flipped through the pages of a manga, occasionally glancing up to join in on the conversation.
I approached them.
"Have you seen an old man around here?"
They exchanged glances before shaking their heads.
"Nope."
I moved on, stopping a passing man—a businessman, judging by his suit and hurried steps.
"Excuse me, sir, have you seen an old man around this area?"
He barely spared me a glance.
"No, sorry."
I tried again. A woman leaving a grocery store, arms full of shopping bags.
"Ma'am, have you noticed an elderly man—average height, dark eyes?"
She furrowed her brows, thinking for a moment.
"No, can't say I have."
The answer was always the same. No.
Eventually, I gave up. Letting out a sigh, I wandered back to the park and dropped onto the swing—the same one I had sat on before. The sky stretched endlessly above me, clear and calm, as if mocking my restless mind. The ground beneath my feet was still damp from the rain. I took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of earth and wet grass. The gentle chirping of birds filled the silence, a rare moment of peace settling over me.
"Hello, Mister! Are you sleeping?"