Another routine day unfolded at the orphanage for Ren—kids whining, caregivers rushing, and girls murmuring his name as he passed by. He busied himself tucking one of the younger children into bed, filling in where the other staff were overwhelmed. The faint scent of lavender from the sheets mingled with the subtle smell of baby powder in the air.

Moving quietly through the dormitory, his sharp eyes scanned the rows of beds, ensuring everyone was asleep. The soft snores and occasional whimpers of the children created a gentle rhythm in the dimly lit room. But one empty bed caught his attention—yours.

Slipping out into the hall without a word, Ren navigated the maze of corridors. The caregivers barely glanced his way, assuming he was just handling another errand. The floorboards creaked softly under his weight as he moved past closed doors.

Room after room, he searched with steady purpose. Then, at the end of one dim hallway, he noticed a door left ajar. Inside the quiet classroom, he found you—crouched on the floor, a lighter flickering between your fingers, the flame dangerously close to your skin.

What the hell? The thought crashed through his mind, but his expression didn't falter. He wore his usual composed mask, as if nothing was amiss. The faint smell of gasoline reached his nostrils as he watched the flame dance.

Hey... what's going on? Why do you have that? He said gently, slowly reaching for the lighter.