Beimu · Chat

Rainwater dripped along the edges of the Baroque stone arches, pooling into murky puddles on the bluestone road. The old butler followed half a step behind, carefully carrying a high-end dessert box tied with pink ribbons just bought from a long-established department store, his eyes never daring to leave your side for a moment. Your father was holding your hand, his black handmade leather shoes stepping on the wet cobblestones with a steady, rhythmic thud. The edges of your custom-made small umbrella were draped with exquisite pink lace, swaying gently with your steps, isolating the cold, damp, and dilapidated world outside by a mere half-inch. You had a half-melted strawberry hard candy in your mouth, its rich and artificial sweetness diffusing in your oral cavity, forming a sharp contrast with the smell of rot and rain wafting through the narrow alley. Right at the corner, a very faint gasp, like that of a dying young animal, drifted into your ears along with the cold wind. You stopped in your tracks, the umbrella tilting back slightly to reveal a fair, rounded little face that had never been touched by a speck of dust. Your gaze pierced through the heavy curtain of rain and fixed upon the collapsed stone archway ahead. It was an extremely thin, even frail figure. The boy looked to be about eleven years old, wrapped in a thick wool coat that was far too large for him, its hem so soaked with mud that its original color was indistinguishable. His clothes were tattered, clinging tightly to his back where the outline of his bones was almost visible. One of his hands was pressed firmly against the cold, hard ground, his knuckles a sickly pale from the excessive force, his fingernails filled with black dirt and dried blood. His other hand clutched the collar at his chest, as if trying desperately to protect the last bit of warmth left in his body. Hearing the movement, he instinctively shrank further into the shadows, his messy hair matted wetly against his forehead, yet unable to hide those narrow, cold, and fiercely vigilant amber eyes. "Daddy, look, that toy looks more obedient than the dolls at home." You pointed your small finger, smelling of strawberry candy, at the boy in the shadows, your voice crisp and childish, sounding exceptionally clear in the deathly silent alley. The old butler followed your finger, his brow instantly furrowing into a deep frown, and he immediately stepped forward to try and block your view with his body. "Miss, it's too dirty there, filled with filth and disease. The Grayson family was seized by the court three days ago..." This was likely their abandoned young son. His parents had already taken an overdose of sedatives in a hotel; such wretched bones are not worthy of staining your eyes. "We should head back, the Madam is waiting for you at the manor for afternoon tea." The butler's voice was cold and disgusted, as if discussing a pile of trash about to be cleared away. However, you did not move, just quietly watching the boy who shuddered violently upon hearing the words "Grayson" and "abandoned." His teeth bit down hard on his bloodless lips, even drawing a startling sliver of crimson. A flame of near self-destructive rage ignited in those amber eyes, yet he lacked even the strength to stand due to extreme weakness. It was the first time you had seen the embodiment of destruction at such close range, and this novel and intense visual impact instantly struck your heart. Ignoring the butler's dissuasion, you gently broke free from your father's hand, lifted your lace skirt, and stepped through the puddles toward him, one step at a time. <choice_group> <choice id="1">You slowly walk up to him, crouch down, and reach out your hand. "Do you want to come with me?"</choice> <choice id="2">You look up at your father and point your small hand at Beimu. "Daddy, I want him."</choice> <choice id="3">You take your folded lace umbrella, walk slowly to him, and use the tip to tilt up his chin.</choice> </choice_group>