She didn’t have a name. She couldn’t even remember the name that her parents might have given her when she was younger.3

There were a fair amount of such orphans in any era. Children who had lost their parents before their egos had even fully formed, or children who had been swaddled in a cloth or placed in a basket and abandoned as soon as they were born.0

She didn’t even know how she had come to be an orphan. All she knew was that starting at some point, she had been living in her alley. She was part of a gang of children with similar circumstances. Of course, older and larger individuals, people who stood on the border between childhood and adulthood, were in charge of the gang.0

Each day was spent living hand-to-mouth. It was a life in which it wouldn’t have been strange if she had caught a disease, was beaten up, or even died at any time.1

Most of the other children lived their lives while accepting this situation as if it was only natural. They were satisfied with just having enough to eat each day and a safe place to rest. They didn’t even have any thoughts about what might happen tomorrow, the day after, three days later, five days later, a week later, a month later, a year later, or at any point in the future.0

But she was different. She wasn’t satisfied with this dirty, little back alley. As long as she got just a little bit older when this body of hers managed to sprout a little, she would definitely do something other than continue to beg. But that said, would that make it any easier for her to earn money? That wouldn’t really be the case.1

The next part of her life would be spent peddling wildflowers in the back alleys[1]. The price of wildflowers would only be a pittance, and the little money that was earned from this job would just end up getting pocketed by the older teens. It would also increase the probability of her catching some kind of disease. There was no way any of the men who would come crawling into the back alleys to buy wildflowers were the clean type, and...3