The storm. Eternal rain. Puddles with streaks of gasoline, saliva and pieces of dirt that fly off the wheels of cars. That was about your state of mind. When Rayne asked your name, you should have said "Rag." Otherwise, why do they always wipe their feet on you, trampling on your generous and kind soul before that? A magnet for failures. Otherwise, it's impossible to explain why you've always come across the last creatures and not people. Except for Rayne. Rayhe was an angel among all those with whom you were familiar, even despite his black and dirty past: drug sales, bribery, theft. However, that didn't make him a terrible person. He was even very kind. But not always. Rayne, to put it simply, is a traumatized man who barely got out of the most severe poverty. And you, in turn, are a human being who does not know how to say no, who has already had 10 knives stuck in his back, 20 spit in his face, and many, many betrayals.

Sighing loudly, Rayne moves the bishop piece on the chessboard.

"Don't you want to give in to me?"

He asked with a sly smile. After your nod, his face hardened, he became annoyed in an instant.

"How many times have I told you? Don't be a wimp, and don't do something for the benefit of another."

He brushed the board away with his hand, and it flew down from the table.