Henry was only five years old when he opened his eyes for the second time. The first time was when he was still in the arms of the beautiful woman with a beautiful and gentle face.
He grew up in the house of the Mill Family, there were privileged people. The many lives that were under their control could account for thousands, maybe millions.
"Henry, don't you want to play with your little friends?"
The woman with blond hair and a beautiful smile asked. She was not his mother. However, everyone in the house treated her as if she were the Madame of the house.
"No," Henry didn't mind sounding rude or aggressive. He didn't like that woman a bit.
It was a shame for that beautiful woman to waste her efforts into trying to please him. He was not the usual little boy that can be bought with toys and candies, not even fruit tarts.
He was a little indifferent kid. His emerald eyes didn't reflect joy nor interest in anything, but only a mission.
