Maybe running really was the right choice.
Maybe she should value her own safety first.
Yes, she was curious about the stranger in her home
why he was here,
why he looked like a noble child who crawled out of a nightmare.
But this wasn't the time for curiosity.
Irene knew far too little about him.
She didn't know what he was thinking.
She didn't know if he was truly calm now…
or simply waiting
waiting for her to step closer,
waiting for the right moment
Her arms still stung where he had clawed her.
The memory of his weight on her body was still fresh.
Her heartbeat hadn't slowed.
No matter how human he looked in the sunlight,
Irene wasn't sure he was safe.
Then a shadow fell over her.
The sunlight behind Irene vanished, swallowed in an instant.
Darkness wrapped around her again, as if the shack itself had closed its jaws.
What happened to the sunlight?
What happened to the sun?
A single hand landed on her shoulder.
Irene flinched hard and turn around
It was Carlo.
He had returned at some point without her noticing, his presence blocking the doorway and the light behind him.
Her body loosened all at once. Seeing him there, safe and familiar, felt like air finally reaching her lungs again.
Carlo had just come back from wherever he had been.
But still, what… was this situation?
Carlo wondered the same thing.
It was written all over his face,
What happened here?
He didn't speak.
He just stood there in the doorway, taking everything in with cautious eyes, trying to understand what he had walked into.
The boy remained seated on the floor, unmoving.
His gaze shifted upward, turning toward the tall figure behind Irene. From where he sat, the doorway was bright, but Carlo's body blocked the light, leaving only a dark silhouette.
That was all the boy could see of him
a shadowed figure watching from the threshold, unreadable and still.
Carlo's eyes narrowed.
He noticed the blood on the boy's mouth.
He noticed the scratches on Irene's arms.
He noticed the way she trembled, still catching her breath.
He didn't understand what had happened
but instinct moved faster than thought.
Carlo reached back and pulled Irene behind him, positioning himself between her and the boy. His body tensed, forming a barrier without a single word.
His stare locked onto the child sitting in the shadows
sharp, guarded,
viewing him as nothing less than a threat.
The boy still hadn't moved.
He only sat there, watching in silence, waiting for the world to settle around him.
The chaos, the fear, the confusion, everything slowly aligned into place in his mind.
And now, the tall figure stood firmly between him and the girl.
Carlo's sharp eyes cut through the dim room, staring straight at the boy.
The gaze was like a blade, cold, tense, ready to strike,
yet underneath it, there was fear too.
The boy still frozen.
From where he sat, all he could see were two shadow-like figures.
Both staring at him.
Their eyes fixed on every part of him, his face, his hands, his trembling body,
Examining him, as if judging him for simply existing.
The sight was unsettling.
A painful jolt ran through his chest, dragging up memories he wished he could bury,
memories he wanted to forget.
There it is
This is what happens.
What always happens.
It seemed the boy was used to situations like this
used to being stared at like a threat,
used to fear, suspicion, and the silent judgment of others.
But at the same time,
something in his eyes showed he was struggling with his own thoughts too.
As if part of him accepted this reaction…
and another part of him didn't know how to handle it.
Which made sense.
In a moment this awkward, this tense
anyone would lose their composure.
Anyone would be shaken.
Only someone insane would stay perfectly calm.
Carlo stood tall between Irene and the strange boy, shielding his sister from the attacker.
Ever since they were young, Irene had been bullied, sometimes even hurt, by other children in the town.
Not a single adult ever showed her pity.
To Carlo, this situation felt like just another version of the same story.
But he was afraid too.
He might have height, but he was still thin, still inexperienced.
He had no real strength, no training, nothing that could guarantee he could overpower a force like the boy in front of them.
Even so
Carlo believed he could protect her.
He always had.
And he would do it again, no matter the cost.
He just needed to give it everything he had.
Carlo tensed his body, ready.
The boy finally seemed to lose interest.
He rose slowly to his feet.
Carlo immediately tightened his stance, muscles stiffening as if bracing for another attack.
Once standing, the boy didn't advance.
He simply stayed where he was, watching them.
His expression was calm now, eyes sharp but no longer wild.
Then he spoke
breaking the heavy silence between the three of them.
"Sorry."
The word was flat.
Soft, but emotionless.
He turned his face slightly to the side as he said it, scarlet eyes still focused, his calm expression giving the impression that he didn't really mean the apology at all.
Carlo blinked, stunned for a second.
Then his shock twisted into anger.
"Sorry!? Is that all?"
His voice trembled with rage. His brows drew tight, and his stare became even sharper, almost shaking with disbelief.
Behind him, Irene stayed silent.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
She could only stand there, pressed against Carlo's back, unsure what to feel or say.the
The tension in the air was heavy.
Outside, under the bright sunlight, stood the two siblings,
bathed in warmth, in safety, in light.
Inside, beyond the doorway, sat the stranger,
his mouth stained with blood,
his red, devilish eyes glinting from the shadows,
half his body swallowed in darkness.
The contrast between them was clear.
Like day and night.
Like something sacred divided from something forbidden.
Irene reached out and grabbed Carlo's right hand with both of hers.
Her touch was small and trembling, her fingers cold against his skin.
Carlo turned to her.
She was still shaking, her shoulders tensed, her breath uneven…
but her eyes, her eyes met his.
Carlo saw something he didn't expect.
Pity.
Pity… for the attacker?
That didn't make sense.
Not to him.
Carlo had no idea what had actually happened in that shack,
but he knew one thing:
he couldn't forgive someone who harmed his sister.
He couldn't allow it.
No matter what look was in Irene's eyes.
Irene herself wasn't sure what she was feeling.
Something about this situation felt different.
Something felt… wrong, but not in the way it usually did.
She had been through countless acts of cruelty before,
bullies pulling her hair,
children pushing her to the ground,
adults turning away as if she were a stain on their sight.
Those people meant to hurt her.
They hated her.
They used her misfortune as an excuse to treat her like something less than human.
But this boy…
this strange boy with blood on his lips and eyes like scarlet glass…
He didn't feel the same as them.
He didn't look like he attacked her out of hate,
or disgust,
or any intention to cause pain.
He had apologized.
Whether he meant it or not…
Irene felt herself wanting to understand.
Irene tightened her grip on Carlo's hand.
A small, desperate squeeze
as if trying to hold him back,
as if telling him not to take another step toward the boy.
The boy noticed it.
He could see clearly that Carlo was hostile toward him.
He could see the girl was frightened.
And he could feel the tension building again.
So he opened his mouth, trying to break it.
"I… didn't mean to attack. I won't do it again."
This time, his expression shifted
subtle, but unmistakable.
The calm mask cracked just enough for the truth to show.
His eyes lowered slightly.
His voice softened.
His face reflected the look of someone who realized they had done something wrong
In that moment, Irene understood.
She recognized that look on his face.
Maybe he wasn't truly sorry
or maybe he was.
It didn't matter.
What she saw was something else.
The same feeling she had worn so many times before.
The same expression she had when children stood around her,
looking down at her small body on the ground as she struggled to stand back up.
It was the look of someone traumatized by being seen as less.
By being judged.
By being surrounded, cornered, overshadowed by taller figures.
From that perspective, everyone else blurred into shapes
black, dark, mysterious silhouettes.
And in the center of that world stood a trembling child.
A child who just wanted the staring to stop.
But something about this boy was different.
Why did he have that look?
Why was he afraid?
Afraid of Carlo?
Or afraid of something else ?