The new comer

I didn't mean to stare at him.

But something about him was… wrong. Or maybe right—in a way this city rarely allows.

The way he looked at the park—

lost and amazed, like someone seeing color for the first time and a miracle he might lose if he blinked.

He looked the same age as me but

his hair was wild, orange-red, catching sunlight like it had stolen the last flare of a dying sunset.

It wasn't just color—it was rebellion, loud against the washed-out bones of Elexers.

And What interested me most were his eyes—

They didn't just glow.

They burned.

Two stars trapped inside flesh.

His clothes were almost painfully black—too dark for a city that breathed with endless light, like a silent shadow slipping through a world drenched in sunshine. White cuffs edged his sleeves, sharp and clean, as if the light itself tried to contain the darkness he carried within. The same white trim ran down the edges of his trousers, crisp and deliberate, like the markings of a uniform—something official, something confining, or maybe something he was desperate to escape. Every detail whispered a story of walls built and a shadow fighting to stay hidden.

For a heartbeat, I forgot the nightmare under my ribs.

All I could do was watch him stand in the light, as if it belonged to him.

and his uniform looked like a those for prisoners and I wondered what if he was running from—something. 

Then he turned, catching me staring.

Our eyes locked.

"H… hey," I said. My voice sounded foreign, like it hadn't been used in weeks.

"Oh—hey," he replied, 

His smile caught me off guard — no walls, no suspicion. Just something honest

I braced for a frown or a sharp, "Why are you staring?"

But he didn't care

I hesitated, then words slipped out like a quiet prayer

"I heard you saying his place is amazing," I said, glancing toward the park.

"What makes you say that?" I paused, unsure if he'd answer—but somehow, I wanted to hear what he thought.

Then I added, "Is it the people? The lake? The trees? Or maybe… for once, everything here just feels okay?"

He looked around, drinking it all in, like he was trying to memorize every detail.

"Everything here is amazing. And yeah… it just feels okay. I never knew a place like this existed in this world. It's beautiful."

His words hit a chord—a fragile peace I thought I'd lost forever and didn't sound like a tourist.

More like someone tasting freedom for the first time, afraid it might be taken away.

"For me, it's amazing too—and it always has been, a light flickering in shadows, fragile but never fully gone," I said.

I stepped toward the gate.

"Let's enter the park and take a short tour—together."

His face lit up. Whatever shadow had been in his eyes was gone.

Lincoln Park was a rare pocket of calm in the city's endless noise—but even peace like this wasn't immune to breaking.

We entered the park, one of the green spaces in Elexers. Grey cobblestones wound along the paths, their edges set in deep red stone. Benches brimmed with people; children darted between walkways, laughter cutting through the city's usual hum. The air carried the scent of grass, faint flowers, and—somewhere close—the warm sweetness of roasted nuts.

Under a scattered canopy of oaks, shade pooled across the path.

A black-and-white cat sprawled in one of those shadows.

I watched him crouch slowly, hands trembling as if the cat might dissolve beneath his touch.

There was a fragile wonder in him — like he was rediscovering something he never knew existed, and it made my chest tighten.

"What's the name of this animal?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, surprised at how much the simple question unsettled me.

"That's a cat," I said finally.

His smile blossomed, soft and genuine, lighting up those burning eyes.

"So this is a cat… not what I imagined. But it's cute. I'd love to have one."

I didn't need to ask why he didn't know — the shadows in his past were written all over that simple longing.

We passed an ice cream stand swarmed with children. Their shouts tangled with the hiss of the machine.

"That place looks crowded with kids. Is there something special going on there?" he asked.

As I observed him watching them like he was studying a rare species, his eyes tracking how their faces lit up when they laughed. It wasn't just curiosity—it was hunger, as if he wanted to memorize every detail before it slipped away.

"It's a place where they sell ice cream. Kids just love to eat it, that's why it's crowded."

"Ice cream? I think I should try some," he said, almost wistful.

"Sure. Let's get some before it's all gone."

We bought cones and started eating, the cold sweetness melting against the heat of the day.A small kid from the slums shuffled behind us, eyes glued to Leo's ice cream like it was the rarest treasure. I reached into my pocket, fingers curling around my wallet, but before I could move, Leo crouched down and pressed the cone into the boy's trembling hands.

The boy's face blossomed into a grin bright enough to crack the city's gray chill. Leo tousled the kid's tangled brown hair with a gentle smile—an unspoken promise of kindness. Without hesitation, Leo straightened up and strode back to the stand, returning moments later with a fresh cone for himself.

Watching him, I knew — no doubt, he was a good person.

Feeling lighter, we slowly wandered toward the lake. Ducks drifted lazily across the water, their reflections breaking into ripples.

"This strawberry ice cream… it's good. Almost like the vanilla I bought earlier," he said between bites.

"I wonder how they made these. Do you know?"

"I'm not sure. I just know it's frozen after it's made, that's all," I said.

He gave a thoughtful look.

"I'll find out someday. I would like to make one on my own."

His eyes burned with a quiet determination.

That quiet fire in his eyes told me he wasn't just dreaming—he was planning.

Then his gaze steadied on me—a look like something was wrong.

"You haven't asked why I'm… acting like everything is new to me."

It looked like he noticed himself.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. For a moment, I searched his eyes, wondering how much he was ready to share.

I wanted to ask , to peel back the shadows—but I held back, letting the moment stay light

"Well, you were enjoying yourself," I said. "And you looked so happy I didn't want to break that feeling. Who knows? Maybe you were locked somewhere you couldn't even see the sun—and it might remind you of your dark past."

He looked at me like I had somehow seen right through him.

"Thanks… a lot," he said quietly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

He rested his hand on the low fence by the lake, gaze drifting away for a moment.

"And you were almost right about what you just said."

"We never introduced ourselves earlier."

He hesitated, then added, "My name's Leo. I just arrived this morning and I'm from The city Sancteros."

His voice dropped, almost swallowed by the sound of the wind through the trees.

He searched my face for recognition but found none.Sancteros meant nothing to me—but something in the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine.

And this is how I met Leo—one of my future greatest allies, best friends, and one of the most powerful and greatest heroes to ever existed.

End of Chapter.