I was always alone.
The earliest memory I had was when I lived in the small and cramped orphanage. The adults over there called me “Firis”—they said that there was a writing embroidered on the clothes I wore when I was found in the middle of a forest. They said that I was around one-year-old, and that I was glancing here and there, seemingly looking for someone.
But who was I looking for? I couldn’t remember.
Also, the writing “Firis” might be embroidered on the clothes I wore, but has anyone think that it might not be my name? However, even if I continued to ponder, I would never find out....