"Uhm, h-hello, M-monsieur, I-I'm not trying to steal."

The boy stands before me, eerily reminiscent of my younger self, stuttering nervously. He doesn't just look like me; he even acts like I did back then.

"Hey, it's okay; I'm not going to hurt you," I assure him as I kneel and offer a comforting smile.

He glances up, eyes wide with lingering fear. "R-really? Even if I'm Manaless?"

His question, filled with vulnerability, tugs at my heartstrings.

His tattered clothes clearly depict his struggles, echoing my impoverished past. The stigma of being Manaless likely makes his life even harder, a reality I know all too well.

"Don't worry, little one. I'm Manaless, too, and I promise I won't hurt you. Pinky promise!" I extend my pinky toward him, hoping to lighten the mood with this simple gesture.

The boy eyes my pinky, then meets my gaze with a puzzled look.

"Pinky promise? W-what’s that, M-monsieur?”

I gently extend my pinky toward the boy, offering a kind smile to ease his apprehension.

"A pinky promise," I explain, "is a very special type of promise. When two people link their pinkies like this," I demonstrate, curling my little finger slightly, "and make a promise, they mean it. It's a promise that you can't break because it's sealed with trust."

The boy's eyes widened slightly as he looked from my pinky to my face, processing the explanation.

"So, when I make a pinky promise with you, I'm serious about keeping my word. It means you can trust me to not hurt or let you down."

Hesitantly, the boy extends his pinky and links it with mine.

“P-pinky promise, M-monsieur?”

"Yes, pinky promise," I affirm, gently squeezing his tiny finger to seal our promise.

His expression softens, a faint smile forming as the initial fear in his eyes gives way to a spark of curiosity and perhaps a hint of hope.

"See? Now we have a special agreement. I promise not to hurt you, which means I won't. And if you ever need help or someone to talk to, you can count on me," I add, hoping to reinforce the sense of security the pinky promise is meant to instill.

The boy nods slowly, the corners of his mouth turning slightly more in a shy smile. He is clearly beginning to feel a bit more comfortable, despite the challenges he faces being Manaless and poor—challenges I know all too well from my own past.

"Doms, let's— who is this kid?"

I turn around and see Arthur approaching us with a curious look.

“M-Monsieur, w-who is that?”

The young boy beside me seems equally puzzled and a bit apprehensive.

I smile reassuringly at him, then gesture towards Arthur. "That's Arthur, a good friend of mine."

The boy looks up timidly. “U-uhm hello, Monsieur Arthur.”

Arthur, picking up on the boy's nervousness, crouches down beside me and offers a friendly smile.

"Just Arthur is fine. What's your name, kid?"

"Uhm, my name is Clark Williams."

Clark Williams. Hearing his name, it strikes me just how surreal this situation is.

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He isn't just a doppelgänger from my past; he is a living echo of it here in Sylvestria. Could this place be some sort of alternate universe connected to where I came from? But that is a stretch—Sylvestria is supposed to be a fictional world.

No matter the mysteries surrounding his presence, I know one thing: I must help him.

If Clark is here, perhaps his family is, too. Since my own story ended prematurely in my previous life, I resolve to do whatever I can for my—no, his—family now.

"I forgot to introduce myself properly. I’m Dominic Eñeforte. Nice to meet you, Clark."

"U-uhm, nice to meet you too."

Turning back to Arthur, I take a deep breath. "Hey, Arthur, could we invite Clark to join us for dinner?"

"But, I only made a reservation for—"

"Please," I interject, giving him the best puppy eyes I can muster, though I feel silly.

Arthur looks at me for a while, his right eye twitching. After a moment, he lets out a resigned sigh. "Fine, he can join us."

I grin, glad that my puppy eyes work. "Great!"

"U-Uhm, I know that restaurants here can be expensive, so you don't have to include me." Clark hesitates, his voice small.

"Don't worry about it," I reassure him, then playfully nudge Arthur. "Arthur can cover it, right, Arthur?"

Arthur, defeated yet amused, nods. "...Yeah."

"See, Clark? It's settled then."

Clark's eyes widened, and there was a mix of surprise and gratitude. "I-If you insist, then I-I will join you both!"

Seeing his reaction, I can't help but smile even wider. "Awesome! Let's go, then!"

"So, what would you like to eat, Clark?"

"U-Uhm, well..."

We are now seated inside 'La Table Royale,' and the luxury of the place seems to overwhelm him even further.

"You should try this Gratin dauphinois, Clark," Arthur suggests, pointing out one of the dishes.

While we discuss the menu, I can't help but notice the whispers and stares from other customers directed towards Clark.

"What's that kid doing here?"

"Yeah, he looks out of place."

"He should go back to where he belongs."

Hearing these harsh words, I clench my hands into fists under the table, anger flaring.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax. Now is not the time for confrontation.

"W-what about you, Monsieur Dominic, what will you order?" Clark's innocent question brings me back to the present.

"Oh, I'll have the Ratatouille."

"Ratatouille?"

"Yeah, it's a traditional French dish made with sliced vegetables like zucchini, bell peppers, and eggplant, all baked together in a tomato sauce. It's flavorful and healthy."

Clark's eyes widen. "T-that sounds delicious!"

I grin. "It is. You can order it too if you want, right, Arthur?"

Arthur gives me a resigned look but nods. "…Yeah."

Clark's face lights up. "O-Okay! I'll have one too!"

"That's settled then."

I signal for the waiter, who approaches promptly.

"Bonsoir, what will be your order?"

After we place our orders, the waiter nods and retreats to the kitchen.

Turning back to Clark, my curiosity about his situation grows. If he is a reflection of my past self in Sylvestria, how similar are our lives?

"So, Clark, where are your parents and your home?" I ask gently.

Clark's face falls, and he looks down at the table. "I…ran away from home."

His words hit me harder than I expected. They mirror my history too closely—the young version of myself also ran away, driven by desperation and a youthful lack of foresight.

"Why did you run away?" I probe softly.

"I-I don't want to be poor anymore…my parents can't buy me toys, and my classmates bully me for it."

The pain in his voice resonates with me. It's a harsh reminder of my childhood struggles.

"Clark, running away from your family is...not right, you know?"

"I-I know, i-it's just that, it's very hard."

I reach across the table, gently placing my hand over his smaller ones, trying to offer comfort.

"I understand, Clark. It's tough, especially when the world is against you. But your family loves you, even if they can't give you everything."

Clark looks up, his eyes shimmering with the start of tears.

"They do love me... I miss them."

"Maybe it's time to think about returning," I suggest softly. "I ran away once, just like you. I thought it would solve all my problems but only created new ones. Going back home was the hardest thing I did, but it was also the best decision. My family helped me find the strength I didn't know I had."

Clark nods slowly, digesting my words. "But... how do I deal with the bullying?"

"We can work on that together," I assure him. "I can talk to your school, and we can find ways to help you stand up for yourself. Being poor isn't something to be ashamed of, and being Manaless doesn't define your worth."

I pause, allowing Clark to digest what I said. "And, Clark, you've got two friends right here. We'll help you through this, okay?"

Clark's eyes widen. "Friends?"

I nod. "Yeah, we're friends,” I turn to Arthur. “Right, Arthur?"

Arthur seems surprised but quickly recovers. "Oh…yeah, of course!"

Clark's face slowly turns into a smile. “T-Thanks, Monsieur Dominic and Monsieur Arthur.”

I smile back. "No problem, Clark."

Just then, Arthur leans closer. "Doms, can we talk for a second? Privately?"

I raise an eyebrow, curious. "Sure…"

I then glance at Clark. "Stay here for a bit, Clark. We'll just be over there, and we'll be right back."

Clark nods obediently. "Okay, Monsieur!"

Arthur and I then excuse ourselves and walk to the back garden of the restaurant.

Once we are out of earshot, Arthur expresses his concern. "Doms, I know you want to help, but don't you think this is all a bit sudden?"