Chapter 1

In the frigid night, three men, cloaked from head to toe, stood within the confines of an ancient crypt. The eerie cry of a baby reverberated through the cold, concrete walls. Chanting strange and unrecognizable words, two of the men positioned themselves on each side of the infant, while the third advanced with a dagger in hand. Their sinister intent was clear – a ritual sacrifice was about to unfold.

As the final chants filled the air, the man with the dagger, gripping it with both hands, raised it high above his head. In a sinister descent toward the baby's heart, mere inches away from tragedy, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.

Suddenly, three mysterious winged figures materialized, their radiant presence dispelling the darkness that clung to the crypt. Angels. Their luminosity flooded the once-creepy room, illuminating the grim scene. One of the celestial beings exerted an otherworldly force, slamming the dagger-wielding man into the concrete wall with a power that seemed to defy the laws of nature.

Simultaneously, the remaining two angels seized the other would-be sacrificers by the neck, their ethereal grip unyielding. The angel who intervened with the dagger now extended comforting wings towards the terrified infant, a stark contrast to the malevolence that had moments ago enveloped the crypt.

The blaring sound of an alarm abruptly filled the room, prompting a groggy boy to sit in bed. Rubbing his eyes, he swung his legs over the side and headed towards the source – an insistent alarm clock perched on his drawer. With a swift motion, he silenced the disturbance and surveyed his surroundings.

A yawn escaped him as he took in the state of his room. "I should clean my room," he mumbled to himself. Shuffling into the bathroom, he embarked on his daily routine – a refreshing shower, diligent teeth brushing, and dressing in a gray shirt paired with black pants.

Moving with purpose through his apartment, he arrived in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he hoped to find something to satiate his morning hunger. However, disappointment crept in as he sighed, "I could have sworn there was some leftover rice from yesterday." The fridge yielded nothing but emptiness. Scratching his head in mild confusion, he closed the door.

Undeterred, he made his way to the door, grabbed a black jacket on the way, and slipped into his shoes. "I must have eaten it all yesterday," he muttered resignedly before stepping outside.

As Kibo stepped outside his apartment, he was met with a narrow corridor. As he moved toward the stairs, an old lady emerged from her apartment. Hastily, he averted his gaze, pulling on his jacket and cap.

"Ah, Kibo," the old lady called out. A sudden chill ran down his spine, momentarily freezing him. He tried to avoid her at all costs since engaging in conversation with her meant enduring hours of non-stop chatter.

"Good morning, Lady Boba," Kibo responded, attempting to keep the exchange brief.

"Kibo, my dear, how have you been, son? I was looking for you yesterday to remind you to go to the store, but you were not home." Kibo mumbled to himself, "It's not that I was not home; I just ignored you." However, he accidentally spoke aloud, and Mrs. Boba overheard him. "What did you say, dear?" she inquired.

"Ah, me? Nothing," Kibo stammered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Fortunately, Mrs. Boba's hearing wasn't the best. "Anyways, listen, Kibo, I have baked cookies. Ah, yes, cookies! Let me go get you some."

"How nice of you, Mrs. Boba," Kibo replied. Seizing the opportunity, he made a quick escape for the front door of the building while Mrs. Boba went back into her apartment to retrieve the jar of cookies. Perplexed, she returned outside only to find Kibo gone, leaving the apartment behind. 

Outside, Kibo left a relieved sigh, his hands finding refuge in his pockets as he strolled down the street towards a stoplight with a zebra path. The cross light turned green, and with a brisk pace, he swiftly crossed the path. After a while, he reached the store and entered, picking up essentials such as rice, ramen, bread, chocolate, pasta, and some sodas. With his shopping complete, he headed to the cash register.

However, the owner of the store was assisting an elderly lady who seemed to be struggling to unload her basket. Kibo observed the delay and couldn't help but think, "How old is this lady? Probably 90, heck maybe even 100 years old. It shouldn't take someone this much time to just get their things out of the basket," he muttered to himself—or so he thought.

To his surprise, the elderly lady burst into a rage, hitting him with her bag. "What did you say, brat?" she exclaimed. Kibo, taken aback, yelled, covering his head. "Hey, hey, what's your problem, lady?"

"Who are you calling 100 years old?" the lady retorted. Confused, Kibo responded, "Lady, what are you talking about?" The lady stopped hitting him, but her scolding continued. "I heard what you said, you little..."

This left Kibo perplexed, prompting him to question the lady, "Lady, are you a telepath?" However, he unintentionally said his thoughts out loud. The lady, undeterred, continued scolding him, and the store owner watched the spectacle unfold, harboring his own thoughts about Kibo's behavior.

As Kibo headed back to his apartment, he approached the stoplight he needed to cross. Seeing that the light to cross was green, he proceeded to cross the street. However, the light quickly turned red, unbeknownst to him. Oblivious to the change, Kibo continued, and just as he reached the middle of the road, a blue truck approached at high speed.

The truck, now in his path, honked relentlessly. Panic surged through Kibo as he comprehended the imminent danger. His heart raced, eyes widened, and he braced for impact, convinced it was the end, the world around him seemed to slow down.

However, in a surreal twist, he found himself miraculously on the other side of the road, sprawled on the ground. His eyes still wide he witnessed a white feather hovering in the air and disappearing, he snapped back to reality, realizing he was still alive. Disbelief washed over him, "I can't believe it."

"Kiboo! Kiboo, dear!" Lady Boba, who happened to witness the ordeal, rushed towards him. "Are you alright?" she asked, helping him up from the ground. The shock of the incident lingered in Kibo's eyes as he processed the miraculous escape.

Lady Boba, still concerned, meticulously checked every corner of Kibo, ensuring he wasn't hurt. Persuading him with genuine worry, she insisted he come to her apartment for some hot chocolate and the cookies she had baked. Kibo, trying to assure her, stated that he was fine and that she shouldn't worry.

Persistently, Lady Boba continued, indicating that he was shaking. She assured him that her hot chocolate and cookies held secret powers that could make him young and beautiful, just like her. Inadvertently thinking aloud, Kibo muttered about how old people could be so delusional, not realizing Lady Boba heard him.

Tapping him on the back of the head and grabbing his arm, Lady Boba exclaimed, "Kids these days, no respect for the elderly." Despite Kibo's attempt to reassure her, he reluctantly pulled towards her apartment, the promise of hot chocolate and cookies outweighing any protest he might muster. 

Back at Mrs. Boba's apartment, she gestures for Kibo to take a seat as she heads into the kitchen to prepare the hot chocolate. As Kibo settles into a chair, he takes a moment to survey his surroundings. Mrs. Boba's apartment is impeccably organized, a stark contrast to the clutter of his own living space. The sight serves as a gentle reminder that he needs to tidy up when he returns home.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Boba returns bearing a tray laden with steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies. Placing them on the table with a warm smile, she says, "Here you go, my dear."

Kibo reaches out, accepting the mug of hot chocolate with tentative hands. He takes a cautious sip, the warmth spreading through him, and his expression lights up in surprise. "Wow, it's good," he remarks.

Mrs. Boba's smile widens at his reaction, a hint of relief evident in her eyes. Lost in her own thoughts for a moment, she reflects on Kibo's journey. "Kibo has been living on his own ever since the accident that took his parents two years ago," she muses silently. "Normally, a child would feel like it's the end of the world, but Kibo is different. I can't forget the feeling when we had to tell him. Somehow, it was as if he already knew."

In her musings, Mrs. Boba's heart swells with affection for Kibo. "Kibo is special," she thinks, her resolve strengthening. "That's why, no matter what happens, I will always take care of him."

After sharing a quiet moment together, Mrs. Boba and Kibo exchange fond farewells. Kibo, feeling a sense of warmth from their interaction, gathers his belongings and heads towards the door. Mrs. Boba watches him go, her heart filled with a mixture of affection and concern for the young man she has come to care for deeply.

As Kibo steps out into the crisp evening air, his thoughts drift back to the curious sight he witnessed earlier—a solitary white feather hovering in the air before vanishing without a trace. It's a peculiar occurrence that nags at his mind, leaving him pondering its significance as he makes his way back to his own apartment.

Lost in contemplation, Kibo walks the familiar path with a sense of anticipation tinged with uncertainty. What could the appearance of the feather signify? And why did it seem to vanish so mysteriously? These questions swirl in his mind, casting a veil of intrigue over his thoughts as he disappears into the quiet embrace of the night.