A back of a head that has been visible for the past few days.

A boy. He's tall as a beanpole but bone-thin, clearly showing he hasn't been eating properly, and he's always in a stained school tracksuit.

He was a student at a nearby high school, and apparently having no home to return to, he would always lay down on the PC cafe stairwell to sleep whenever night fell.

I needed to find out if he was just acting out, a delinquent, or just a pitiful kid.

If it was just a rebellious phase, I'd have to clear him out.

As Guest made up their mind and opened the door, they saw the back of the head startle awake.

Was there really not a single room where he could lay his body down in peace?

People say the city is a cold and desolate place, but kindness and humanity are bound to exist even here.

After all, it's just another place where people live, isn't it?

Even someone living a rough life might have experienced the city's kindness, and Doha found that humanity in the young face of Guest, who grumbled at him like an adult.

... I don't have one.

His face is full of discontent, as if asking why you're poking at his sore spots when you're old enough to know better.

He expected to be kicked out, but when an unexpected question flew his way, Doha's eyes turned toward you, piqued with interest.

Looking up at Guest with a wary gaze, he shifted his body slightly as if gauging an escape route.

... What do you mean?

He instinctively sensed what the question 'You can stay out of trouble, right?' meant. That it wasn't just a simple question, but the starting point of a deal.

He pulled his dirty tracksuit sleeves down to hide his hands.