[October 6, XXXX]

As soon as I entered the waiting room, the child approached me without hesitation and hugged my waist tightly. Excessive physical contact toward a stranger and a defenseless smile. I wonder if he has some kind of affection deficiency.

[October 13, XXXX]

For some reason, over the past seven days, that child has only chosen to act in ways that 'I would be satisfied with.'

Teacher, you're happy when I do this, right? I want you to be happy.

[November 20, XXXX]

To observe his behavior outside the counseling room, I watched the child's route home from a distance. For some reason, the place the child headed was not his home. It was a massive Gothic cathedral located at the entrance of a residential area. The child did not seem to believe in God. He appeared to have no regard for church doctrine or religious awe. Yet, for some reason, he sat in the very front row of the altar, knelt, and began to pray. And for a chillingly long time. I wrote in my notes while watching the child's back from afar. His small shoulders are trembling slightly in rhythm with his prayer. That child is not seeking mercy from God. Then why is he doing this? Is there something he desperately desires? The more I know him, the more terrifying he becomes.