In a small, dark room lit only by a flickering bulb, a seven-year-old boy sat curled up in a corner, hugging his knees tightly. His body trembled—not from the cold, but from fear. His name was Kenta.
The door creaked open.
Footsteps echoed. Then came the voice.
"It's time... for work... my son," said Togo, Kenta's father, with a chilling smile stretched across his face.
Kenta's eyes widened. "No... No, Dad, please... I can't…" he cried, tears already streaming down his cheeks.
Togo grabbed his arm firmly. "Let's go," he said.
That night, under the cover of darkness, father and son stood outside a quiet suburban house.
"Watch me," Togo whispered.
They crept inside.
A man, woman, and a young girl were sitting together. Within seconds, Togo lunged forward and brutally slaughtered the man in front of his family. Blood soaked the floor. The girl, about Kenta's age, stood frozen in terror.
"No... DAD!" she screamed, as Togo turned and murdered the woman next.
Then, he turned to his son, handed him a knife, and pointed at the crying girl.
"This is your first kill. Do it," he said coldly.
"No... no, I can't..." Kenta shook his head violently, unable to stop crying.
Togo sighed and poured gasoline all around the house. "Then burn with her. Your choice."
The little girl stood motionless in shock, not even crying anymore.
Kenta stared at the knife, his heart racing, his body frozen. His hands trembled. He dropped the knife.
"I... I can't..."
"I see," Togo muttered.
He lit a match.
Flames roared as the house caught fire. Togo escaped through the window without looking back. Inside, the ceiling cracked and wood began to fall.
As one burning beam fell toward the girl, Kenta, without thinking, pushed her out of the way. The beam struck his back.
His scream echoed, then silence.
The fire consumed everything—except a miracle.
Hours later, firefighters pulled Kenta's unconscious body from the wreckage. He had survived, his back severely burned.
Hospital Room – Morning
Kenta's eyes fluttered open. Bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.
"Wh...where's the girl?" he asked the doctor.
"You know her?" the doctor replied, surprised.
"No... but... I need to apologize."
"She's outside. And... your father's been arrested. The whole country knows now—Togo, the notorious serial killer, finally caught," the doctor said grimly.
Outside
Kenta stepped into the hospital garden and saw her. The girl. Alive.
He walked up to her slowly. "Hey... are you okay?"
She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then she spoke.
"Why... why did you save me? Your back... it's burned. For life."
Kenta looked down. "Because... your mom and dad died because of me. I'm sorry."
He gently held her hand. "Come with me. You'll live at my place now."
They walked in silence until they sat on the floor of Kenta's tiny home.
"My name's Kenta. What's yours?" he asked.
She hesitated. "A... Amelia."
Her stomach growled.
"You're hungry. Wait here—I'll get food," Kenta said and rushed out.
In Front of a Mall
Kenta watched a man hand his daughter a sandwich. Hunger gnawed at him too, but he didn't care.
He ran forward, snatched the sandwich, and dashed away.
Back Home
He slammed the door shut, panting.
"I... I'm back..."
Amelia sat quietly, her eyes still distant.
Kenta handed her the sandwich. "Eat."
As she took it, his own stomach growled loudly.
She giggled softly for the first time.
"Here." She broke the sandwich in half and gave him a piece.
Kenta took it slowly. "T...Thank you."
That night, inside a burned world, two broken children began to heal.
The next morning, Kenta returned home carrying a small paper bag with cheap food and a bottle of warm tea. He opened the door with his usual soft call, "I'm back."
But something felt wrong.
"Amelia?" he called out.
There was no answer.
His eyes scanned the room until he saw her—lying on the floor, her face flushed red with fever.
His heart dropped. "Amelia!"
He rushed to her and gently touched her forehead.
"It's... a fever," Kenta muttered, panicking slightly. He didn't have medicine, didn't have money, didn't have a clue.
But he had determination.
He tore an old cloth, dipped it in cool water, and placed it on her forehead.
"This'll help... at least a little," he whispered, sitting down beside her. The room was silent except for her soft breathing and the ticking of a broken wall clock.
He stayed like that.
From morning…
To noon…
To evening…
Until, finally, Amelia's eyelids began to flutter open.
"You awake?" Kenta asked gently.
Amelia slowly nodded, weakly.
"Here… it's a cold drink," he said, helping her sit up and placing the bottle in her hand.
"Drink?" she murmured.
"Yeah," he replied with a faint smile.
She took a few sips, and color slowly returned to her face.
Outside, night had begun to fall. Kenta stood alone by the door, staring out into the cold sky.
"I'm a thief," he thought bitterly. "I stole food again today... I had no choice. But... doesn't that make me like Dad? A criminal?"
The thought pierced his chest like a knife.
Later that evening, he walked back in, forcing a smile onto his face.
"Hey, Amelia," he said cheerfully, "Come with me—we're going to the Christmas Festival."
Her eyes blinked, surprised. "Festival?"
"Yeah. When my mom was alive... she used to take me every year," he said, looking away for a moment. "It's been a long time... but I want to go again. With you."
He held out his hand.
She hesitated... then reached out.
Their fingers touched.
Kenta smiled. Amelia looked at him—and smiled back, just a little.
The night air was filled with joy.
The city glowed with lights and laughter. Snowflakes danced through the sky as they walked through the crowded streets of the Christmas Festival.
"Is... this really a festival?" Amelia asked in awe, her eyes wide.
"Yup," Kenta said proudly. "You've never been?"
She shook her head. "My parents always worked at night... I never got to go."
Kenta looked at her silently, then gently took her hand again. "Well, let's go. Let's see everything."
Together, they ran through the streets—laughing, spinning, looking at lights, eating candy samples, and watching street performers.
Then—BOOM!
The sky lit up in a brilliant display of golden fireworks. Reds, greens, and silvers followed, dancing in the night like falling stars.
Amelia gasped, eyes wide with wonder. "It's… beautiful…"
Kenta turned to look at her—not the fireworks, but her.
The reflection of the lights shimmered in her eyes, and for a brief moment, the world felt perfect.
He smiled.
A real, gentle smile.
And in that moment, Amelia's heart quietly changed.
She stared at Kenta—not as the boy who saved her, or the boy who brought her food, or even the boy who smiled through his pain.
But as the boy who brought light into her darkness.
She fell in love.
Silently, deeply.
Kenta didn't notice. He was just happy that she smiled.
But Amelia… would never forget this night.
Inside the small, quiet house, the cold wind whispered through the cracks in the walls. Amelia sat curled up in a blanket on the wooden floor, hugging her knees.
"I want to see the festival again..." she said softly, her eyes drifting to the window, where only darkness waited.
"Tch," Kenta clicked his tongue and sat back against the wall. "It'll be a long time before the next one."
"I'm bored," Amelia pouted, looking at him with those tired but sparkling eyes.
Kenta sighed, stood up, and disappeared into the small bedroom. A few moments later, he returned holding a worn-out book.
He dropped beside her and held it up with a grin.
"Then let's go on an adventure. This book—it's one of my mom's. She used to read it to me every night."
Amelia's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah." He opened the book, the pages soft and yellow with age. "Let's read this together."
He cleared his throat dramatically.
"Once upon a time… in a kingdom far beyond the mountains, lived a lonely dragon who hated the world..."
As he read aloud, Amelia leaned closer, resting her head gently on his shoulder. The story continued—of a dragon, of a knight, of a girl who taught monsters to smile.
And in that tiny house, under the dim light and worn blanket, the pain of their pasts melted away—for just a little while.
Two broken children…
Healing through pages of a story.