Dylan

I strolled down a quieter, sunlit corridor on the third floor of the administrative complex, chatting casually with Paige in my head as I took in the bustling scene through the massive glass windows.

[So, Host,] Paige giggled, her tone full of playful curiosity. [Now that you've conquered the rehearsal studio, what's next on your grand backstage tour?]

'Honestly, I'm just enjoying walking around without a boss breathing down my neck,' I replied, slipping my hands into my pockets. 'After spending years stuck in a cramped kitchen, just wandering through a place like this feels pretty great.'

As I rounded the corner near a quiet lounge area, my eyes fell on a brightly lit vending machine stationed against the wall.

Sitting on a small wooden bench directly in front of the machine was a ten-year-old boy. He wore a neat dark blue sweater and shorts, his chin resting in his hands as he stared at the vending machine's glass display with a ridiculously sad pout.