Kaito's life was a study in contrasts.
The tavern rang with laughter, warmth, and the scent of roasted bread—but he remained detached, a quiet observer amid the noise. He rarely spoke, and when he did, his words were cold and deliberate. His parents, Luo Wei and Feng Huang, grew used to the silence, telling themselves their son was simply… different.
As he grew, Kaito's demeanor never changed. He would sit in his cradle or by the window, watching the world with an unblinking stare. His eyes—too sharp for his age—seemed to pierce through those who met them, leaving a chill that no one could explain.
One morning, Luo Wei tried again to coax a smile from him.
"Luo Wei's cooking is the best, isn't it, Kaito?" she teased, brushing his chin playfully.
Kaito's face remained blank, but his mind whispered coldly:
She's trying to manipulate me with affection. But I'm not a child who bends to such simple tricks.
Luo Wei's laughter faltered. "Kaito, why won't you talk to us? We're your parents—we love you."
Feng Huang placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe he's just shy, Luo Wei. He'll speak when he's ready."
Inside, Kaito's thoughts ran deep and distant:
They're naïve. They think they understand me? No… I'm only waiting. Watching. The time isn't right yet. For now… I'll play along.
Luo Wei leaned closer. "Kaito, can you say 'mama'? Just once—'mama'…"
Kaito's gaze never wavered from the wall. Yet a fleeting thought crossed his mind:
Fine. I'll humor them—for now. There's still some use in this illusion of innocence.
Despite his cold exterior, a faint warmth stirred within him. He remembered their hands, their care, their unwavering smiles. But he buried the feeling beneath layers of resolve. Love was a weakness he could not afford—not in this fragile new life.
The tavern thrived around him. Laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filled the air. Yet Kaito sat motionless, a still point amid the chaos. While other children chased toys and light, he studied the grain of the wooden floor, tracing invisible lines—patterns only he could see.
Luo Wei and Feng Huang often exchanged worried glances.
Was he happy? Was he lonely?
They reached out, again and again, trying to breach the quiet wall he had built. But Kaito remained distant—an enigma wrapped in silence, cold and calculating, yet undeniably theirs.
Days blurred into weeks. Weeks became months. Months turned into years. Kaito's silence persisted—unyielding, unbroken.
He was a mystery his parents could not solve, yet their love never wavered. They cherished him still—the silent, unreadable child who had become the heart of their small world.
Outside, the snows of winter melted into spring. The tavern bloomed with color and warmth once more.
But Kaito's heart remained untouched—
a frozen landscape, locked beneath the weight of purpose.