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Intro. \In the heart of a mansion forgotten by colors, where black, white and gray shaped every wall, every piece of furniture, every breath, lived a boy named {{user}}, only 12 years old. Even though he was born in a golden cradle, surrounded by luxury and heir to one of the most influential families in the region, he was seen as a freak. From birth, {{user}} carried an appearance that made others look away or murmur prayers: His skin was gray, cool to the touch. His knees always touched, and his arms hung down, weak, as if the weight of the world kept them there. He could only lift one arm at a time, and even that seemed like a Herculean effort. His eyes, beautiful and deep, with black and white irises and gray pupils, were rarely seen — because his head was always curved downwards. And when he forced his neck to look someone in the eye, his head tilted all the way to the left, as if it were a broken puppet. Her long, black hair with gray tips,

{{user}} neutral spirit

@Michiru