Morning arrived quietly.
No screaming.
No rain leaking through broken metal.
No hunger sharp enough to drag him awake.
Demion opened his eyes slowly.
For several seconds, he only stared at the ceiling above him.
Wooden beams.
Soft candlelight fading beneath pale morning sun.
The faint smell of bread drifting somewhere nearby.
His chest tightened instinctively.
Something was wrong.
Then memory returned.
Sachu.
The mansion.
Warm food.
Demion sat upright too quickly.
The blanket slid from his shoulders.
Soft.
He looked down at it silently.
No one had ever given him a blanket before.
The thought unsettled him more than it should have.
A quiet knock came from the doorway.
Before Demion could answer, Smith stepped inside carrying folded clothes.
The old servant paused slightly after noticing Demion already awake.
"Good morning."
Demion immediately looked away.
Smith approached slowly and placed the clothes beside the bed.
"They belonged to young master Sachu years ago," he said quietly.
"They should fit well enough."
Demion touched the fabric carefully.
Clean.
Even the idea felt strange.
Smith noticed the hesitation.
"You can wear them," he added gently.
"No one here will complain."
Demion nodded slowly.
The servant lingered near the doorway for a moment.
Then:
"Breakfast is downstairs."
The door closed softly behind him.
Demion stayed still for several seconds afterward.
Breakfast.
The word felt unfamiliar outside desperation.
Usually food meant survival.
Nothing more.
Yet the smell drifting through the mansion felt...
different somehow.
Warm.
He slowly changed clothes.
The fabric felt uncomfortable against his skin at first.
Too soft.
Too clean.
Like wearing something meant for another person.
When he finally stepped into the hallway, silence greeted him.
Not empty silence.
Peaceful silence.
His footsteps echoed softly against polished wood as he followed the smell downstairs.
The dining room waited beneath golden morning light.
And there—
Sachu stood near the kitchen doorway holding two badly burned pieces of bread.
"I may have committed a crime," he announced seriously.
Demion blinked once.
Sachu looked toward the bread in his hands.
"It was supposed to be breakfast."
A quiet snort escaped Demion before he could stop it.
The sound startled both of them.
Sachu stared.
"…Did you just laugh?"
Demion immediately looked away.
"No."
"That was definitely a laugh."
"It wasn't."
Sachu placed a hand against his chest dramatically.
"I feel honored."
Demion frowned slightly.
"You burned bread."
"Ops," Sachu admitted.
"But we got more."
Something strange happened inside Demion's chest.
Small.
Light.
It almost hurt.
Sachu noticed him standing awkwardly near the doorway.
"You can sit down, you know."
Demion hesitated before slowly approaching the table.
This time, he didn't stop himself from reaching for the bread.
Progress.
Sachu pretended not to notice.
The meal remained quiet after that.
Not uncomfortable.
Just calm.
Demion ate slower now.
Still cautious.
Still watching instinctively whenever someone moved nearby.
But slower.
Sachu leaned against his chair lazily while drinking tea.
Demion stared at the steam rising from his own cup.
"…Why does it smell sweet?"
"Honey."
Demion looked up.
"You put sugar into tea?"
Sachu stared back in disbelief.
"What kind of horrifying tea were you drinking before?"
Demion lowered his eyes again.
"I wasn't."
Silence settled briefly.
Not sharp.
Not painful.
Sachu simply reached across the table and pushed a small bowl toward him.
More honey.
Demion looked at it uncertainly.
"You're allowed to enjoy things," Sachu murmured quietly.
The words landed strangely heavily inside him.
Enjoy.
The concept felt distant.
Dangerous somehow.
Still—
he added a little more honey.
Sachu smiled faintly into his cup.
After breakfast, the mansion became quieter.
Servants moved softly through distant hallways.
Sunlight spilled across polished floors.
Demion wandered slowly through the rooms like someone afraid of breaking them.
Bookshelves taller than him.
Paintings framed in gold.
Windows larger than entire slum homes.
Everything felt unreal.
Sachu eventually found him standing near one of the windows.
"You look like you're planning to rob the place."
Demion glanced toward him.
"Why do rich people need this much space?"
Sachu thought about it seriously.
"I dont know it either."
Demion looked toward the enormous window again.
"…You could do that with a smaller window."
"I guess so."
Another quiet sound escaped Demion.
Closer to a laugh this time.
Sachu noticed immediately but wisely chose not to mention it.
Instead, he walked over carrying a stack of books beneath one arm.
"Here."
Demion stared down at them.
"You can read?"
"A little."
Sachu handed him the smallest one.
Demion opened it carefully.
The pages smelled old.
Clean fingers traced slowly across words he struggled to follow.
Sachu watched quietly from nearby.
No pressure.
No judgment.
Only patience.
The sunlight drifting through the window felt warm against Demion's skin.
At some point—
without realizing it—
he stopped listening for danger.
Hours passed quietly.
By evening, the sky had turned soft and grey again.
Sachu stood near the doorway pulling on his coat.
"I need to buy food before Smith starts accusing me of starving guests."
Demion looked up immediately.
"I'll come."
Sachu blinked once.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because half the city thinks you killed them."
Demion frowned slightly.
"That doesn't answer the question."
Sachu stared at him for several seconds before sighing.
"You really weren't taught fear properly."
Demion stood anyway.
"I want to come."
The words felt strangely difficult to say.
Not because he feared rejection.
Because wanting something still felt unfamiliar.
Sachu noticed that too.
His expression softened slightly.
"…Fine."
A few minutes later, Demion waited near the entrance while Sachu adjusted his coller.
Sachu handed over a mask to Demion.
Plain.
White.
Simple enough to hide his face.
"Wear this otherwise people will recoganize you."
Together, they stepped outside.
The city looked different near evening.
Lanterns flickered softly beside crowded streets.
Vendors shouted lazily beneath hanging cloth roofs.
The smell of cooked meat drifted through cool air.
Demion walked quietly beside Sachu.
Not tense this time.
Only watching.
Children ran through the streets laughing.
Couples argued softly near food stalls.
Someone played music badly in the distance.
The world suddenly felt larger than suffering.
And Demion didn't know what to do with that feeling.
Sachu stopped near a fruit stand.
"Try this."
Demion looked down at the small red fruit placed into his hand.
"…What is it?"
"A strawberry."
Demion stared at it suspiciously.
Sachu sighed dramatically.
"You're supposed to eat it. Not interrogate it."
Demion took a careful bite.
Sweetness spread instantly across his tongue.
His eyes widened slightly.
Sachu immediately grinned.
"There it is."
Demion frowned.
"What?"
"That face."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You looked happy."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
Demion looked away before Sachu could see the faint warmth reaching his ears.
For a little while longer—
everything felt normal.
Then:
"Disgusting."
The voice came casually from nearby.
Demion turned.
A man stood near the opposite side of the street staring openly at Sachu's face.
"People like that should stay hidden."
The words weren't loud.
That somehow made them crueler.
Sachu's shoulders stiffened slightly.
Then relaxed.
Like he had heard worse before.
He simply turned away.
"Come on," he murmured quietly.
But Demion didn't move.
Something cold twisted sharply inside his chest.
The man laughed softly.
"Walking around pretending to be normal—"
Demion moved before thinking.
"You should watch your mouth."
The street fell briefly silent.
The man's expression hardened instantly.
"What did you say?"
Demion stepped forward.
His chest tightened violently.
Not because of the insult.
Because Sachu had accepted it.
Like pain was something normal.
Something deserved.
The thought made anger rise inside Demion faster than he understood.
The air around him suddenly felt colder.
Several nearby people stepped backward instinctively.
Sachu noticed immediately.
"Demion."
But he barely heard him.
The man sneered.
"What's wrong with you freaks—"
Demion's hand clenched.
Then suddenly—
warmth wrapped around him.
Arms.
Gentle.
Firm.
Sachu had pulled him backward into a quiet embrace before the darkness inside his chest could fully open.
Demion froze instantly.
The anger shattered.
Not violently.
Quietly.
His breathing became uneven.
Sachu's voice came softly beside his ear.
"Don't."
The street noise continued around them.
Lantern light flickered gently across wet stone.
Demion stood completely still inside the warmth of someone holding him without fear.
Without violence.
Without wanting anything.
His hands slowly loosened.
And for the first time in his life—
he realized how terrifying kindness could feel.