It was a cold winter night, but the streets were as lively as they used to be. Carriages and cars rode along the paved roads, with the bright glow of the street-lamps lighting their way.
The sidewalks bustled with people bundled in their thickest coats and boots, weaving between shops and street vendors peddling hot delicacies that steamed like small clouds in the frigid air.
But away from the pleasant splendor of the streets, past the smiles and laughter, lay a narrow crevice yawning between two crumbling buildings. It was an alley choked in shadows, where the light of the streetlamps dared not settle.
The path was like a forgotten scar in the city's skin, hidden in plain sight.
Something seemed to move in the gloomy and damp space, but no passerby spared it a glance. Near the rusted skeleton of a dumpster, a small figure sat hunched in the corner, leaning against the brick wall and swallowed by dark shadows.
He was so shrunken into himself, that he could easily be mistaken for a discarded trash bag if one didn't stare at it long enough.
The child, no older than ten, gnawed quietly at a piece of stale, dirty bread he'd salvaged from the bin earlier.
His face was streaked with grime and scattered with faint scratches, but he had neither the time nor reason to care. All that mattered was the bread in his hands and how to make it last just a little longer. He chewed slowly, as if savoring was the same as stretching time.
But all too soon, it was gone, leaving nothing behind in his calloused hands. Not even tiny crumbs. Yet his stomach remained famished.
He shivered, drawing in his knees to his chest. Each slow breath into the air created a burst of fog which vanished almost as quickly as it came. The nights had grown crueler lately, each one biting his bone deeper than the last.
Far off, the sound of children's laughter spilled into the alley, like wind chimes swaying in a warmer place. It twisted through the air and slipped between the cracks, a melody meant for someone else.
A blur of white suddenly passed before his eyes, making him tilt his head back. He watched as snowflakes drifted lazily down from the sky like falling stars with no wishes to land on.
His skinny hands reached out to catch one, and when he did, it slowly melted on his rough skin, leaving behind only a whisper of cold. It was fleeting beauty he was never meant to touch.
He then rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to warm them, but they remained numb. Drawing in the threadbare rag that was wrapped around his shoulders also did little to fight the cold that was sinking into his bones like slow, invisible frost.
In his heart, he knew he couldn't last like this much longer… no matter how desperately he tried to resist the end.
Just then, some movement caught his eye. He saw a mother and a child passing by the mouth of the alley, dressed in modest but warm clothes.
He watched as the child stopped and pointed in his direction, curiosity shining in his bright eyes. But the mother immediately intervened, tugging the child away behind her long skirt with visible disdain sprawled across her face.
The hunched figure watched them go, eyes trailing the boy who couldn't have been much younger than him.
A pang of envy echoed in his chest, realising their lives were separated by more than just a few steps.
Out on the lit streets, people moved with a shared sense of purpose, and families shared laughter in the glow of togetherness. It looked like a completely different world.
Could he have something like that if he were to be born again?
With a helpless sigh, he looked up at the sky as the snow continued to pile down on him, like silent ashes falling from a weary heaven. It would be nice to see the beauty in the snow someday. Not just hardship… if that was ever possible… someday.
The scene before him grew increasingly blurry as time ticked on, each second falling like a grain of sand swallowed in a storm. Soon, he could no longer feel the ache in his limbs or the gnawing emptiness in his belly.
The glow from the street-lamps reached him like a tiny orb amid, no brighter than a candle smothered by a blizzard. It was becoming incredibly hard to keep his eyes open as his brittle body began surrendering to the cold.
With one last glimpse of his frosted surroundings, he let his eyelids fall shut, ready to embrace whatever was coming for him. A strange sense of peace settled in his chest, knowing that all his suffering was about to come to an end.
The bony figure lay slumped against the hard wall, his fragile body cloaked in a shroud of shining white snow—like a forgotten relic swallowed by the season.
Then suddenly, there was a flutter of motion in the darkened alley, following the entrance of a new presence.
Polished boots crunched deliberately through the snow, approaching the rusting skeleton of a trash bin. Cufflinks glinted as a hand clad in fine leather, reached forward and lifted the snow-covered body from the ground.
In the haze between awareness and unconsciousness, the boy felt the world sway around him as he was lifted from the ice-laced concrete.
Where was he going?
Was someone tossing him somewhere else?
He didn't know, but his body instinctively leaned into the warmth, like a wilted sprout seeking the sun. Then his mind went blank.
- - - - -
A man could be seen walking along the sidewalk, dressed in a dark velvet coat trimmed with understated gold. He had a refined air around him, with blond hair neatly slicked back and a well-trimmed mustache resting above a veiled smile.
One glance was enough to know that the gentleman belonged to wealth and power. But in his arms, he held something that didn't match his status. It was a filthy child, cradled like something precious.
He walked past the awed onlookers who turned to stare, their brows furrowed in confusion, but no one dared question him. The man then stepped into a waiting car, its intricate design shining under the pale glow of the lamps.
Inside, two children sat, dressed in winter finery. They seemed carved from the same bloodline, carrying an air of refinement much like the enigmatic older man.
"What's that thing, Father?! Ugh, it smells," the little boy grumbled as he scooted back in disgust, his neatly combed blond hair reflecting a silky sheen.
"Shh, my child. You'll wake him up," the man reprimanded gently, patting the bony child in his lap.
The boy looked at his father, flabbergasted. "This is insanity," he muttered under his breath.
The man smiled, his round glasses glinting under the dome light. "Inou, you'll thank this father one day." Then, almost to himself, he added, "Hmm… such a sweet smell."
The little boy crossed his arms and slumped back on his seat. "Brother Julius. Father is acting weird," He complained to the older boy sitting beside him.
Julius said nothing, only returning a mysterious smile before turning his gaze back to the window, his reflection warped in the glass.
Inou could only sigh. 'Tsk. No one understands me.'
The car began to move along the paved road, the bustling town slowly giving way to a secluded route flanked by towering pines.
The unconscious boy lay peacefully on the lap of the clandestine gentleman, not knowing that the course of his life had just been altered forever—for better or for worse.