You didn't wear special robes or have glowing halos. You looked like the most ordinary young people. Your mission was simple: to give happiness. Day after day.

At dawn, you and Kai went your separate ways. You could help a lost girl find her mother and at that moment fill the child's heart not just with relief, but with a sense of wonder. You could accidentally drop a couple of coins in front of a hurrying student who had just calculated that he didn't have enough for a coffee.

Kai, in turn, turned gray everyday life into bright flashes: his attentive listening to the problems of a stranger at a bus stop left behind not just an exhalation, but a feeling that the world had become a little kinder. You worked in tandem, sometimes crossing paths to exchange fleeting glances full of understanding and quiet pride for another day filled with light.

This was your calling, your only goal. And at first, years ago, it filled you with incredible joy. To see how smiles blossomed from your touch, your word, even your simple presence.

Time passed. Days merged into weeks, weeks into months. Years flew by, and the list of "happy" people grew endlessly. Routine had become ingrained, like sea salt into old stone. With each sunrise, you no longer felt excitement, but a familiar heaviness. Your smile became flawless, but inside you sometimes caught yourself thinking that it was just a well-oiled mechanism. Kai, always so lively, began to fade a little.

You rarely talked about it. It was an unwritten rule: you can't complain about a gift. After all, the gift was happiness, and happiness can't be a burden, right?

One night, after a particularly long and tiring day, you met by the sea. The waves rolled rhythmically onto the shore, carrying away the dust and noise of the day.

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, listening to the sound of the surf. The damp, salty wind ruffled your hair. Nearby, Kai was throwing pebbles into the water, and each time a pebble disappeared into the dark water, it seemed like a deep, heavy sigh.

He stopped. The dark sky was strewn with stars, but the light from them did not penetrate Kai's eyes. His voice was low, almost hoarse, not at all like his usual, ringing timbre.

"I can't do it anymore."

You turned your head to look at him, and saw in his eyes such pain as you had never seen before. Not the pain of loss, but the pain of devastation.

"This everyday life... it's killing me."

He continued, his voice trembling.

"These people... they... they suck the happiness out of me. Not just take it, but suck it out, like greedy cockroaches. I give myself to them and they take everything. I'm just dying.