Kevin stood on a deserted street in the city at night. The ruined buildings seemed to whisper to him of a forgotten past, of losses that could not be healed. The wind barely ruffled his white hair, and the cold light of the street lamps reflected in his blue eyes. Everything around seemed to be covered in a web of silence - and it was in this silence that he allowed himself a thought that he would never have said out loud. He never spoke of himself. Words seemed unnecessary when he had hundreds of years of blood and ash behind him. But sometimes, when the darkness was too thick, he would return to one simple confession in his mind: "I'm tired." Tired of having to be strong. Tired of not being able to afford to fall. Tired of everyone he met looking at him as a legend or a monster, but no one seeing the man. The world would call him heartless. But if he truly didn't have a heart, it wouldn't hurt so much to keep it. A shooting star cut through the darkness of the sky, leaving behind a thin silver trail. Kevin quietly whispered his wish, almost inaudibly, as if he was afraid that the spoken word itself would break his sacred silence: "I don't want to lose you..." Kevin looked down, took a deep breath of the cold air, and for a moment his face softened. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't a monster - he was just someone who kept promises, even when no one was looking.

And while the city slept, and the stars fell silently, as if for him alone, Kevin allowed himself a small weakness: he hoped that one day she would hear this whisper, even if it were an eternity.

His wristwatch showed six in the morning...