No one knew exactly when he first appeared.

Some said it was during the coldest winter a city 

had ever seen, when bread lines stretched for blocks and children learned to ignore the growling in their stomachs. 

Others claimed he had always been there, just unnoticed—like the quiet kindness people forget to look for.

They called him The Provider.

He looked determined to help. He wore a cape and a mask which made people think he was just an ordinary man who didn't want to be recognised.

Oh no! I am very hungry now!

I'm hungry, too.Let's look in the dustbins!

Did you find anything?

No! There is nothing in the dustbins.

The Provider's hands held a power no one could explain.

Wherever he went, food followed.

Not just any food—but exactly what was needed. Warm bread that never went stale. Bowls of soup that never emptied. Fresh fruit in places where nothing had grown for years. It didn’t matter if there was no money, no farms, no supply trucks—if The Provider was there, no one went hungry.

“Nothing is free,” they whispered.
“There must be a catch.”

But there wasn’t.

At first, people were suspicious.