*It's a bit cold here,* Aria thought, shivering slightly. *When will I get out of this creepy street?* "Ah!" she whispered when a small boy, who looked remarkably similar to her, bumped into her. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded coldly.

"I'm a beggar," he replied with an odd smile.

"Whatever. Just get out of my way. You're dirtying my clothes," she snapped rudely.

"Okay then, but where are you going, pretty girl?" he asked, laughing cleverly.

"It doesn't matter to you, and how dare you—" she began, anger flaring up.

"Okay, dear mother," the boy said.

"What? I am not your mother! Stay away from me!" she retorted, but then she stopped as she heard whispers around her.

"Hey, look at that terrible mother," one voice whispered.

"She's saying she isn't his mother... but she looks just like the boy," said another.

"She's wearing expensive clothes and ignoring a child... how cruel," someone else added.

Caught in this awkward situation, Aria had no choice but to compromise. "Ah, sorry. I did wrong by you, dear son," she said, forcing a smile.

"Okay, mother. I forgive you. But can I walk with you and hold your hand?" the boy asked.

Aria glanced around and then reluctantly agreed.

"By the way, where are you going, beautiful lady?" he asked.

"None of your business," Aria snapped.

"Hmm, can you do a favor for me, girl?" he asked.

"What is it?" she sighed.

"Buy me a newspaper," he said.

She checked her wallet and found only one coin. "Okay, wait here," Aria replied. She bought a newspaper and handed it to the boy. "Can you read?" she asked.

"No, I just like looking at the pictures," he replied.

*Lost prince... how stupid they are,* the boy thought as he scanned the newspaper.

"What is it?" Aria asked, noticing his concentration.

"Nothing, it's boring," he replied, throwing the newspaper into a nearby trash bin.

*He's weird,* Aria thought. "Your name is Aria, right?" the boy asked.

*How does he know my name? I've just met him,* she wondered. "How did you know my name?" she demanded.

"Oh, I just noticed it when the newspaper boy called you Aria," he replied casually.

"Hmm," she muttered.

"Where are you going, pretty girl?" he asked again.

"To a date with the count," she said.

"Oh, you're burdened by your family. How sad," he remarked.

"Who told you that?" she asked, feeling increasingly uneasy.

"I just know. And I even know that you want to marry the rich count so that your little brother can walk. If you don't, your family will abandon you. Those clothes you're wearing aren't yours; you borrowed them for one day to look rich," he said, smiling cleverly.

Aria stammered, shocked. *He is indeed a clever child, * she thought.

Aria, a 20-year-old beauty with blond hair and striking red eyes, belonged to a poor family. Pressured by her family to flirt with a wealthy count in hopes of securing financial aid, she borrowed an elegant dress and set off on her mission. Walking through the grimy streets of her impoverished neighborhood, she made her way toward the affluent district, where the rich resided.