The night sky was moonless and starved of stars. It mirrored the hollow gaze of Leuliang as he looked upward, a heavy breath escaping his lips. The mist of his sigh was as cold as the air biting at his skin. He wore a threadbare jacket and faded trousers; his shoes were beginning to fray at the seams, though he kept them meticulously clean. It was the wardrobe of a man clinging to his dignity by a single thread.

  "I have to find another job," he muttered, his voice barely a ripple in the silence. "If this keeps up, I’ll be on the streets by the end of the month."

  He trudged down the rain-slicked sidewalk, passing beneath the sickly yellow glow of dying streetlights. Seeking a moment’s respite, he slumped onto a bench at a deserted bus stop. The distant hum of traffic was his only companion until a soft, pathetic meow broke the rhythm.

  Leuliang looked down. A scruffy kitten was curled beneath the bench, its fur matted and dull, eyes gleaming with a desperate hunger. He hesitated, his hand hovering over his backpack. Inside was a single packaged sausage—his dinner.

  With a faint, bittersweet smile, he pulled it out. "Eat," he whispered, holding out the offering. "Consider this your lucky day."

  The kitten devoured the food instantly. Leuliang watched until the small creature began to lick its paws, satisfied. He zipped his bag, ignored the hollow ache in his own stomach, and continued walking into the dark.

  The path led him to the city park. The air here was cooler, heavy with the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. Near the entrance, illuminated by the cold blue light of a smartphone, sat a girl. She looked out of place, a lone figure in the shadows.

  Why is she here alone? Leuliang wondered.

  As he drew closer, the sound of soft sobbing reached his ears. He hadn’t intended to intrude, but his timing couldn’t have been worse. Just as the girl stood to leave, they crossed paths. In the sudden silence of the park, Leuliang’s stomach let out a traitorous, loud growl.

  The girl froze. Her eyes were puffy and red. "Are... are you hungry?"

  Leuliang looked at the ground, his face heating up. "I'm fine."

  Ignoring his protest, she reached into her bag and pressed a packet of biscuits into his hand. "Take this. Seriously, you look—"

  "Honey? Where have you been?"

  A man emerged from the shadows of the trees. He wore an expensive wool coat, his expression shifting from worry to sharp suspicion as soon as he saw Leuliang.

  "Who is this?" the man snapped.

  "Nobody," the girl said quickly, her voice trembling. "He's just hungry. I was just—"

  "I see." The man’s gaze swept over Leuliang, lingering on the torn shoes and the worn jacket with visible disdain. It was the look reserved for litter on a pristine sidewalk. "Do you make a habit of begging here?"

  Leuliang bristled. "No. I was just passing through."

  "I'm not accusing you of anything," the man sneered, his lips curling into a patronizing grin. "But keep your distance from my girlfriend."

  He reached into his leather wallet, fluttering through high-denomination bills. He didn’t throw them at Leuliang. He simply held the cash out and let go. The bills fluttered to the damp pavement.

  "There. Buy yourself a meal. And stay away from her."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The girl looked at Leuliang, her expression a mix of pity and confusion. "I'm sorry... I just wanted to help."

  As the couple walked away, Leuliang stood frozen. He looked at the biscuits in one hand and the money lying in the dirt. His fingers trembled. He didn't know which cut deeper: the hunger or the humiliation.

  He sank onto a park bench, the biscuits feeling like lead in his hands. He tore the wrapper open, but the sight of the food made his throat constrict. Every crumb felt like a reminder of his own perceived worthlessness. He closed the wrapper, the feeling of rejection far more suffocating than the emptiness in his gut.

  Slowly, he reached down and picked up the damp bills.

  "Even pity can feel like a knife," he whispered to the trees. "It’s funny... I’ve lived long enough to reach the point where help feels like an insult."

  He leaned back and closed his eyes. The exhaustion dragged his mind backward, spiraling into a memory he couldn't escape. He was back in that cramped HR office, the air smelling of musty paper and stale coffee.

  “Thank you for coming, Leuliang,” the woman had said. Her voice was flat, professional, and utterly heartless. “We will not be renewing your contract.”

  The memory felt so vivid he could almost hear the clock ticking on the wall. No explanation. No second chances. Just a handshake and an empty desk.

  Leuliang snapped his eyes open. His head throbbed, a dull ache born of stress and starvation.

  "If this keeps up... I'll lose everything," he croaked, looking at the black sky. "This is officially the worst day of my life."

  Then, the world changed.

  A sudden warmth blossomed in the air, soft and inexplicably soothing. The oppressive darkness began to retreat. Leuliang gasped as the starless void above transformed—thousands of diamonds scattered across a velvet sky, and a brilliant moon bathed the park in silver.

  A soft, cerulean light shimmered in front of him. Within the glow stood a girl. Her brown hair cascaded down to her waist, and her eyes held the depth of polished topaz. She wore a silk veil and a simple white dress that seemed to radiate peace.

  "AHHH!" Leuliang scrambled back, nearly toppling off the bench.

  "Are you hurt?" the girl asked. Her voice was like a calm tide.

  "Who—who are you?"

  "A question is important, but a sincere introduction is more valuable, isn't it?" she replied with a gentle smile.

  Leuliang tried to find his breath. "Leuliang... Leuliang Esculenta."

  "Esculenta..." She tasted the name. "I am Serenity Peaceraft. But you may call me Serenity. I am an Observer of this world."

  "An Observer?" Leuliang narrowed his eyes. "What does that even mean?"

  "It means we watch from a different vantage point." She stepped closer, her gaze piercing yet kind. "I appeared because I saw what you did. Even when you had nothing, you chose kindness for that small creature."

  Leuliang looked away. "It was just a sausage. It's a small thing."

  "No kindness is truly small," Serenity said, clasping her hands. "The world may judge you by your pocket, but the universe judges you by your heart. Do not act as if you alone carry the weight of the world’s destruction."

  Leuliang felt a strange calm wash over him. It was irrational. A celestial being was standing in front of him, yet his panic was fading.

  "Lian," she said softly.

  "Huh? Who?"

  "You." She beamed. "Leuliang is quite a mouthful."

  "No one has ever called me that..." He muttered, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "Whatever."

  Gurgle. The sound of his stomach shattered the moment. Serenity’s eyes softened. "You haven't eaten."

  "I'm fine, really—"

  Before he could finish, she took his hand. Her skin was impossibly warm. "Go back to a time when you weren't hungry."

  The sensation was electric. The gnawing ache in his stomach vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of vitality that raced through his nerves. The physical and emotional weight he’d been carrying for months simply... evaporated.

  "What did you do?" he whispered, staring at his hands.

  "Just a small secret of mine," she teased, watching his face turn bright red with a look of pure mischief. Then, her form began to flicker, radiating a soft internal light. "Time flies when I'm with you, Lian."

  "Wait, what's happening?" He reached out, but his hand passed through the shimmering air around her.

  "Since this isn't our first meeting, I’ll leave you with a gift," Serenity said. Her body began to dissolve into silvery particles, like diamond dust caught in a gale.

  "Not our first meeting? What do you—"

  "We will meet again, Lian. I promise."

  The light intensified, turning into the brilliance of a thousand stars. Leuliang shielded his eyes. A warm breeze swirled around him, and then, as quickly as it had begun, the light vanished. The park returned to its natural silence.

  Leuliang sat alone on the bench, breathing hard. He looked down at his right palm. A faint, blue octagonal symbol glowed there for a moment before fading beneath the skin. A lingering warmth remained, humming like a gentle fire in his veins.

  "Serenity..." he murmured, staring at the spot where she had stood. "Why does her name feel like a memory?"