Beneath a gray sky, heavy and lifeless, a child walked alone down the street.
People passed around him without sparing him a glance. It wasn't that they couldn't see him—it was worse than that.
It was as if his existence was too ordinary to deserve attention.
As if this scene were completely normal.
His clothes were torn, riddled with holes and crude patches. It was obvious the child had spent a long time living on the streets.
But the most striking thing about him wasn't his clothes.
It was his hair.
Gray.
His eyes were gray as well, the same color as the sky above the city.
The child couldn't have been older than six.
I'm hungry…
As he walked, the boy stopped in front of a bakery. The scent of freshly baked bread slipped through the half-open door, filling the cold air with a warm, irresistible aroma.
His stomach twisted painfully.
I want a bun…
He bent his knees slightly, preparing to run.
It was obvious what he was about to do.
Steal.
But just as he was about to dash toward the door, a hand gently rested on his shoulder.
The boy jumped.
He hadn't heard any footsteps. He hadn't felt anyone approaching.
When he turned his head, he saw the man.
He looked around thirty. His clothes were neat and well cared for, suggesting a comfortable life.
But what stood out the most were his neatly cut blond hair and his perfectly symmetrical face.
The boy's stomach tightened.
He's going to turn me in to the police.
"I'm not going to turn you in."
The man's voice was calm.
Almost as if he had read the boy's thoughts.
The child remained silent.
"Stealing is wrong," the man continued gently. "You shouldn't do that."
The boy frowned.
"I'm hungry!" he snapped. "If stealing is wrong, then is my hunger right?"
You don't know anything about my life…
The man studied him quietly for a moment.
"Your hunger isn't right either," he replied calmly. "You hate feeling hungry, don't you?"
The boy said nothing.
"Then why would you make someone else feel something you hate?"
The boy couldn't answer.
The man crouched down until they were at the same height.
His blue eyes met the child's gray ones.
"What is your name?"
"I am… Reine Natch."
The answer came out cautious and guarded.
"That's a good name."
The man then turned and walked into the bakery.
The boy stayed outside, confused.
A few minutes later, the man returned.
In his hands was a paper bag filled with warm bread.
He offered it to the boy.
Reine took it slowly, watching him with suspicion.
Even though he was starving, he hesitated to eat.
He had learned something important on the streets.
No one is kind without a reason.
The man noticed the hesitation.
"You can eat," he said with a faint smile. "I don't want anything in return."
He paused for a moment before adding,
"Just promise me you'll try to become a good person."
Then the man removed the gray scarf wrapped around his neck and placed it gently around the boy's.
"It's cold. Keep this, Rey."
A nickname.
No one had ever called him that before.
But the strangest thing happened next.
When Reine lifted his head again—
The man was gone.
Reine blinked and looked around.
The street was empty.
As if the man had never been there at all.
He had disappeared.
No sound.
No footsteps.
No trace.
The only proof that he had been real was the warm bag of bread in Reine's hands…
…and the scarf around his neck.
"What a strange man…"
Rey muttered as he took one of the breads.
He continued walking down the street.
"Since I can remember… that was the first time someone helped me."
His name was Reine Natch.
He was six years old.
An orphan who knew nothing about his parents. He didn't know if they were dead or if they had simply abandoned him.
He grew up stealing.
Fighting.
Surviving.
And now a man he had never met expected him to simply forget all of that?
Rey took a bite of the warm bread.
"Impossible…"
he muttered with his mouth full.
With every step he took, the wind seemed to grow colder.
That winter was especially cruel.
Even so, Rey didn't resent the city.
Nor the people who lived in it.
Even after everything he had endured.
He looked down at the bread in his hands.
And remembered the man's small gesture.
"I'll try…"
he whispered.
Deep down, he knew one thing.
Living while hating everyone wasn't the life he wanted.
So he made a decision.
One day, he would do for someone else what that stranger had done for him.
He wanted others to feel it too.
That small warmth.
The seasons passed.
Winter after winter.
The child grew.
Rey failed many times.
He fell.
He learned.
But two things followed him through all those years.
The first was the feeling the man had left in his heart.
A small warmth.
Something fragile, like the flame of a candle fighting against the wind.
The second was the gray scarf.
It was worn now, covered in clumsy patches that Reine himself had sewn over time.
Ten years had passed since that meeting.
Now older, faint dark circles rested beneath Rey's eyes. His face had lost some of the innocence of childhood.
Even so, his eyes were still gray.
Just like the sky over that city.
He walked once again through the streets of one of the so-called Five Wonders of the World.
Berlin.
He had truly tried to become a better person, just as that man had asked.
But the world was…
too gray.
In his attempts to help others, Rey had been deceived many times.
He learned something important.
Kindness alone wasn't enough to survive.
Even so, although he no longer helped every person he met…
…he still wanted to believe in that man's words.
And his kindness had not been completely wasted.
There had been one moment.
Just once.
When he had truly managed to help someone.
That single moment was enough to keep the small flame in his heart alive.
"She must be waiting for me…"
Rey murmured, quickening his pace.
After a few minutes of walking, he reached his destination.
A small, worn-down building.
It could barely be called a house.
In truth, it looked more like a shack than anything else.