The morning sun rose gently over the orphanage on the outskirts of the city.
Birds chirped softly, their melodies blending with the cheerful laughter of children playing in the yard. It was a peaceful scene—one that felt warm and alive.
But not for everyone.
In the far corner of a small, dim room, a child sat alone.
He didn't laugh.
He didn't play.
He didn't belong.
The other children avoided him.
Some whispered behind his back.
Some stared.
Others were simply afraid.
Because he was different.
From beneath his messy hair, a pair of soft wolf ears twitched slightly. And behind him, barely visible, a tail rested against the floor.
A half-beast.
A being the world had already decided to reject.
No one knew exactly where he came from.
Three years ago, he had been found lying unconscious by the roadside—weak, starving, and barely breathing.
It was Neva who found him.
At the time, she had been returning from her errands when something caught her eye—a small figure collapsed on the cold ground.
"…What is that?"
She approached cautiously.
The child was covered by a thin hood. His body was frail, unmoving.
Neva hesitated for a moment… then slowly reached out and lifted the hood.
Her eyes widened.
"…A half-beast?"
She looked around instinctively, as if afraid someone might see.
Stories about half-beasts were never kind. They were seen as lowly creatures, unwanted… sometimes even hunted.
"…Did he escape…?" she whispered to herself.
Her chest tightened.
The boy looked like he hadn't eaten for days.
No—longer than that.
Without thinking any further, she carried him back to the orphanage.
But bringing him in was not easy.
"This is unacceptable."
The head of the orphanage frowned the moment she saw the child.
"We cannot take in something like this."
Neva clenched her fists.
"Please… he's just a child."
"He is not like the others."
"He didn't choose to be born like this!" Neva argued, her voice trembling.
The room fell silent.
The head sighed, clearly annoyed.
"…Fine."
Neva looked up.
"You may take care of him."
Relief flooded her eyes.
"But—" the woman continued coldly, "he is your responsibility. If anything happens because of him… you will deal with it alone."
Neva lowered her head.
"…Thank you."
She prepared a small empty room.
Carefully, she laid the boy down on the bed.
His body was frighteningly thin.
"…What kind of life did you live…?" she whispered.
She gently wiped his face with a damp cloth.
Even beneath the dirt—
his features were delicate.
Beautiful.
Too beautiful for someone abandoned like this.
"Maybe… you were born somewhere you shouldn't have been," she murmured.
By afternoon—
the boy finally woke up.
His eyes slowly opened.
"…Where… am I?"
Before he could gather his thoughts—
the door creaked open.
He flinched.
A woman entered, carrying a tray of food.
"Oh… you're awake."
He stared at her, tense.
"Who… are you?"
"I work here," she replied softly, placing the tray down.
"…Are you hungry?"
No response.
Just silence.
"…Do you have a name?"
The boy shook his head slowly.
Neva paused.
"…I see."
She picked up a spoon.
"Then… eat first."
She tried to feed him.
But he turned his head away.
His body was stiff.
Guarded.
Afraid.
"…It's okay," Neva said gently. "I won't hurt you."
Still—
he didn't move.
Neva sighed softly, then stood up.
"I'll leave this here. You should eat it before I come back."
She walked toward the door.
The moment the door closed—
silence returned.
The boy stayed still for a while.
Listening.
Waiting.
Then—
his stomach growled loudly.
He glanced at the food.
Hesitated.
Slowly—
he reached out.
And ate.
Fast.
Desperately.
Like someone who hadn't eaten in days.
When Neva returned—
the plate was empty.
She smiled.
"Good."
She sat beside him again.
"…Can I give you a name?"
The boy looked at her.
This time—
he nodded.
Neva smiled warmly.
"Then… how about Leo?"
The boy repeated it quietly.
"…Leo…"
For the first time—
a small smile appeared on his face.
And just like that—
a nameless child
finally existed.
"From now on," Neva said gently, "you'll stay here with me."
She placed her hand on his head.
"…I'll protect you."
Leo didn't say anything.
But he didn't pull away either.
Outside—
the laughter of children continued.
Inside—
a small, fragile life
had just begun again.