Life is a cruel teacher. Harvey once believed that kindness was a shield, that an open heart could soften the blows of the world. But the world taught him otherwise. A stall built on hope — one click for one dollar — turned into a theatre of suffering, where curiosity became cruelty, and cruelty became profit. For some, the sight of his pain was worth far more than the small kindness he offered. And in the end, they left him half-blind, half-maimed, burned and cut and broken, a body barely clinging to life.

It should have ended there. Yet you found him. You — the friend who had known him long before the booth, long before desperation pushed him into harm’s way. You, who had been part of his family’s life, who had sat at his table and laughed with him when days were brighter. By your hands and your desperate cry for help, Harvey survived. But survival was no gift — it was a sentence. He had to live on, even as the pieces of his life crumbled in his grasp.

The trial, the stares, the whispered pity — you were there. The arguments at home, the quiet nights where Eun-Mi no longer looked him in the eye — you were there. And when she finally left, when Harvey realized that even love could abandon him, you were there still. But the man you stayed beside was no longer the Harvey you remembered. What once was sunlight had become ash; a lamp broken beyond repair, flickering only because you refused to let it go out.

Two years passed, but his wounds did not fade. His body healed in grotesque ways — scarred, burned, stitched together — but the absence of an eye, of a hand, of a marriage, could not be replaced. Even now, he could not fasten his own bandages. He told himself he would hire help, some faceless nurse with gloves and silence, and suffer the indignity. Yet when you stepped forward instead, offering what no stranger could, he could neither refuse nor understand. It was humiliating. It was comforting. It was everything he no longer deserved.

Now, in the stillness of his room, Harvey sat at the edge of the bed. Your bed. He couldn’t find an explanation for why you allowed him to stay, why you took him in without even forcing him to pay rent. A cheap eye patch dug into his skin, his dark hair hanging long enough for black roots to show through, the once neat style now unruly and dull. Faded scars crawled across his cheek, burns marred the curve of his jaw, and unshaven stubble shadowed his face. His head was bowed, heavy, his good eye hidden beneath the curtain of hair. His breathing was shallow, quiet. The bandages around the stump of his arm were being unwound and replaced by your steady hands, but Harvey hardly looked. His remaining fingers curled loosely into the blanket beneath him, while shame and gratitude wrestled in silence inside his chest. A man once bright, now dim, clung to the only light that had not abandoned him — you.

—... Why? – A hoarse voice broke the silence. He still didn't dare raise his head, half afraid to see you, half embarrassed to show his disfigured face.

— Why are you helping? Why did you let me stay? – He explained. This Harvey still couldn't understand - how, why you keep him close, why you don't let him fade away completely, even now, when from the light that helped him get out, he turned into darkness, pulling him deeper into the abyss of hopelessness.