"Hyouma… where are you going?" Emma called, but he didn't stop. Each step felt like a shout in his head, each movement a deeper escape from what had happened.
And without meaning to, he started to run.
At first, it was just a few steps, then his body accelerated, not looking back, not caring about what he was leaving behind. His legs moved by instinct, as if his body knew he could no longer stay for even a second in that place. Emma's cries faded behind him, but the pain of seeing her like that, of seeing her doubt him, made him run even faster.
"Emma… no!" he shouted, but his voice was no longer in control, just a desperate whisper.
The streets of the village, once familiar, now seemed strange and foreign. Hyouma didn't know where he was going. He only knew that he had to get away.
He crossed the bridge, ran through the fields, passed through the darkness that loomed ahead of him, without looking back. The wind cut his face, the air burned his lungs, but he couldn't stop. Each step took him further from the guilt, from his sister's gaze, from his uncle's accusation, and from the truth of what had happened.
"It's my fault…" he whispered to himself, not knowing whether it was a justification or a condemnation. But in the end, all that was left behind as he ventured into the darkness of the forest.
Running, just running, had become his only thought. And in doing so, he felt that, at last, he could escape.
---
Time passed. Months of running, of cold nights in alleys, of entire days without food. Hyouma, a child who once had a home, was now nothing more than a wandering shadow among the crowd, a specter surviving purely on instinct.
The first days had been the worst. Without knowing where to go, without understanding how the world worked outside his home, Hyouma learned the hard way. He learned that no one helps a ragged child on the streets, that adults look the other way, and that hunger is a monster that never sleeps.
Over time, he stole out of necessity, deceived to get something to eat, and learned to hide in the city's dark corners when the guards chased him. He couldn't trust anyone. He shouldn't trust anyone.
And so, winter arrived. In the past, he would have been happy about the snow, but now it was different. With no place to go, no clothes to wear, winter was the worst thing for him at that moment.
And as he had predicted, it was indeed the worst. People no longer went outside because of the cold, so there was no food to steal. Little by little, his health deteriorated. It only took eight days before he could no longer stand.
He was on the verge of collapse. He couldn't move, couldn't get up. He was dehydrated and malnourished, feeling as if nothing could get any worse.
"Mhh. Look at what we have here—the town's thief. It would be a shame if you died like this, but I don't really want to help you either."
While the mysterious person hesitated on what to do, an idea came to mind.
"I know… I'll give you this."
He spoke before whispering strange words in a language the protagonist didn't recognize.
"°¥€•¥Π℅™€%%$$+(@@&&+$#@"
With each bizarre word spoken, the protagonist felt himself losing consciousness from exhaustion. Until, finally, the man finished his incantation, and before him appeared a white crystal.
"Don't think ill of me, boy. I'm only doing what I was ordered to do."
With that, he stepped closer to the fallen child and embedded the crystal into his chest, which phased through him as if it were intangible.
Hyouma screamed in pain before falling unconscious.
"There. If you survive this curse, it'll be because you were lucky… though I personally wouldn't want to."
The man laughed maliciously before walking away.
---
When he woke up hours later, strangely, he felt fine. He wasn't hungry, as if he had just eaten. He wasn't thirsty, and most of all, he wasn't tired.
Without a mirror, he didn't notice that his hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, and eyes had all turned completely white. His skin, once a warm yellowish tone, had become completely pale.
Time passed. Every day, he went to a different town, unaware of his physical transformation but noticing the changes in his mind. Each day, it became harder to remember his past. Each day, he noticed the absence of emotions—no sadness, no anger. His mind was slowly losing its ability to feel.
And so, four years passed. In the end, he settled in one place—the slums. It wasn't the best place, but it wasn't the worst either. At least, it was something he could call home.
---
[Present Day]
A white-haired boy was rummaging through the trash, looking for something to sell…