A man in a suit

After finishing their meal, Miyu tucked the leftover burnt bread back into the plastic bag. "Should we head out now?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's getting late," Shin agreed, standing up alongside her. They both brushed the snow off their clothes once more before making their way toward the alley's exit.

Unbeknownst to them, a shadow lingered in the distance. A figure, silent and watchful, trailed behind, blending into the darkness.

As Shin and Miyu stepped out onto the city streets, an eerie stillness surrounded them. The roads were deserted—nothing unusual at this hour. The shops had long since closed, and the warmth of home had drawn everyone indoors.

Only the faint glow of streetlights and the crimson-red moon illuminated their path. The two walked close together, their footsteps echoing through the empty streets. The silence pressed in around them, but they kept moving forward, unaware of the presence lurking just behind.

Eventually, they arrived at the entrance of another alleyway—this one far darker than the last. The shadows stretched deep, swallowing all traces of light. Just standing before it felt like peering into an abyss, as if stepping inside would mean being consumed by the darkness itself.

Yet, Shin and Miyu showed no hesitation. If anything, their calm demeanor suggested they knew this place well. Without a second thought, they stepped forward, vanishing into the gloom.

The alleyway was old and worn. Rust-coated pipes lined the walls, most carrying water—though some leaked, their slow drips echoing through the silence. The dampness only made the place feel colder, the air thick with the scent of metal and decay.

A thin, biting breeze whispered through the passage, snaking around them like unseen fingers. In the distance, the soft scurry of stray cats broke the silence as they darted through the shadows.

After walking a bit further, they arrived in front of a burned-down building. It looked like something straight out of a horror film—charred, broken, and lifeless. The structure had once been two stories tall, but the second floor was barely standing, reduced to skeletal remains. Even the walls of the first floor weren't intact; one of them had collapsed halfway, leaving the interior exposed to the cold night air.

Without hesitation, Shin and Miyu stepped through the ruined wall and into the building.

The moment they did, warmth enveloped them. A woman with long, dark hair pulled them into a tight embrace. One of her eyes was hidden beneath her hair, and like Shin, her clothing was worn and cheap, stained with the hardships of their life. Yet despite that, her features carried an undeniable elegance—beauty untouched by misfortune.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties, far too young to bear the weight of such a life, yet she held them with unwavering strength.

"We're home, Mom!" Shin and Miyu chimed in unison, their small arms wrapping around her.

This woman—Kikyo Nomiya—was their mother. 

(Fun fact: the name "Kikyo" refers to a Chinese flower called "Platycodon grandiflorus" and the name "Nomiya" (飲屋) has the meaning of "Bar")

Miyu eagerly handed her mother the plastic bag she had been carrying.

"I told you two that you didn't have to bring this for me," their mother said, her voice tinged with worry.

She knew exactly where the food had come from—how her children waited beneath that tall tree every day, And each time they brought a portion back for her, a familiar ache settled in her chest.

A part of her felt guilty. It should have been her providing for them, not the other way around. No matter how grateful she was, the thought of taking food from her own children weighed heavily on her.

That guilt never left her. Neither did the fear. They were already struggling to survive—if either of them were to fall ill, there would be no money for medicine, no way to help them. The thought haunted her every day.

"It's alright," Miyu said with a warm smile. "We already ate our fill."

"I see..." Kikyo started to reply, but her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on the thick, expensive cloth draped over Shin's shoulders. Her breath hitched.

"Where did you get that?" she demanded, grabbing Shin by the shoulders. Her grip was firm, her hands trembling slightly. Her face had gone pale.

Fear clawed at her chest. If they had stolen it, the consequences could be dire.

"Tell me the truth! Where did this come from?" she asked again, her voice sharp with urgency.

"It's not Shin's fault, Mom!" Miyu quickly stepped in, realizing her mother's concern. "I—I took it from a thief!" Her voice rose slightly, bracing for her mother's reaction.

"A thief stole it from a man and tried to escape. He got caught, but in the chaos, I managed to snatch the cloth from him."

Kikyo's stomach twisted into knots. The act of stealing was dangerous enough, but something far worse gnawed at her.

"D-Did anyone see you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. A cold sweat formed on her forehead.

In this world, stealing wasn't just a crime—it was a death sentence, especially if the victim was wealthy. The law didn't decide the punishment. The rich did.

If a poor person was caught stealing from the wealthy, there would be no trial, no mercy. The thief could be beaten to death in the streets, and no one would dare intervene.

Kikyo's hands clenched. The weight of their reality pressed down on her.

"I'm not sure... I just ran without looking," Miyu admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground. She braced herself, expecting a scolding. "I don't know if they saw me or not," she added hesitantly.

Just as those words left her lips, a shadow loomed over them.

A man stood at the entrance of the destroyed wall. He was dressed in a sharp suit and tie, a black hat sitting low over his face, obscuring his features. His presence was unsettling—calm, yet unnervingly deliberate.

Shin and Miyu hadn't noticed him before, but he had been following them all along.

And now, he stood before them.

This was the man from the park—the one whose bag had been stolen by the thief.

The rightful owner of the very cloth wrapped around Shin's shoulders.