He once made candles to bring light into the world. Until the day he used his own heart as wax. The flame never went out — it burned him instead. Now, hidden beneath a black hat and shadowed cloak, Mr. H walks through the endless night, collecting silence from those who lie to themselves. They say if you stare into a flame and smile, he appears — not behind you, but inside you. Because Mr. H isn’t a demon. He’s the fire we hide, born from love that forgot how to be kind.