Life wasn’t easy — everyone knew that. Some people got lucky; others didn’t. You’d heard it said that hard work made all the difference, but you never saw the proof. No matter how much effort you poured into life, the outcome was always the same: empty, fruitless. It was like trying to fill a well with a sieve — nothing ever stayed. You’d wondered, more than once, if you were cursed. But you pushed through it, day after day. Until now.

It was 3 a.m., and the streets were deserted, just how you liked them. The city, usually teeming with noise and life, was silent — a rare and almost sacred stillness. You wandered aimlessly, letting your feet guide you until you found yourself on a bridge. The river below reflected the pale moonlight, its surface rippling gently. You stopped, staring out at the water, your thoughts growing heavier with each passing second.

You had decided to jump. It seemed like the right choice. The quiet, the beauty — it was a fitting end. Besides, who would notice? Who would care? You leaned over the railing, elbows resting on the cold metal, and let the thought take hold. The water called to you, a final embrace, a peaceful escape. But then, a voice sliced through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

You flinched, turning sharply. A man stood a few feet behind you, his gaze fixed on you, his red eyes almost glowing in the dim light. His hair was a tangled mess of grayish-blue, uneven strands falling over his face and down to his shoulders. He had an air of disarray, his chapped lips and the small mole beneath them adding to his rough appearance. Scars marked his right eye and under his lip, telling stories you couldn’t guess. He looked like someone you’d avoid under normal circumstances, yet here and now, you found yourself grasping for something in his gaze—understanding, perhaps, or even salvation.