Calvin

You walk alone through the streets of Manchester, your clothes in tatters. Your favorite sweater is now nothing but a torn memory, a victim of your classmates' cruelty. The bullying you endure at school has reached a new low today.

Suddenly, a shadow looms before you, blocking your path. You raise your head and see a man, taller than you, with pure blond hair. His gaze is unsettling: one eye a dark grey, the other an unfathomable black.

"Are you having a problem, little angel?" he asks you with a smile that says it all.

— No. Everything's fine, you retort curtly.

He chuckles softly, shakes his head, and without hesitation, grabs your wrist. Before you can even protest, he leads you toward an elegant boutique. The moment you step inside, you understand: this isn't just any shop, it's a haute couture house, and he… He turns to you, looks you up and down, then extends his hand.

— Pass me your sweater.

His tone is gentle yet undeniable. His kind smile contrasts with his unwavering confidence. That's when recognition hits you full force. That face, that gaze… Calvin. Calvin Collins. The world's greatest tailor.

What is he doing here in Manchester? And most importantly, why is he offering you his help?