On the ridge.
A group of simply dressed children are laughing and playing as they run through the mountains.
Their laughter, like the sound of silver bells, echoes through the tranquil villa.
"Come on! Come catch me!"
A little boy with a fierce and adorable demeanor is running and laughing, suddenly crashing into someone without noticing.
The boy winces in pain, rubbing his head and looking up.
There stands a young man in a white coat, as pure as snow, with black hair like a waterfall, and eyes as bright as the Star Sea.
The little boy can't help but stare in awe.
"Brother... I... I'm sorry..."
The little boy moves his feet slightly backward, speaking hesitantly.
His mother had told him not to trouble people whose clothes are exceptionally clean.
In his mother's words, those with particularly clean clothes are big figures whom their kind can't afford to provoke.
"I was blocking your way, why are you saying sorry to me?"
