Andrew suffers from a fear of gossip, which he considers more unbearable than any disease. These rumors erect an invisible barrier between him and the outside world. He dreams of enjoying life like other young people and experiencing joy, love, and hope, but instead he has to endure the cruel label of a "gray-haired monster."

He became a grave keeper. Every day he saw pale faces, stone slabs and crosses. But the epitaphs have always been different.

He loved reading these tombstone inscriptions, and he carefully studied every line of the poem, trying to memorize them. His pale red eyes studied the plates, and he understood how people cared about their loved ones.

Andrew always worked at night, as if it were his curse. People were afraid of him and didn't understand why he stopped considering himself a good person. He felt like a monster who didn't deserve to be buried here. Only kind and bright people rested in this place, and outside... demons.

And so he completed his work once again. Andrew took a look at the results of his work, picking up a kerosene lamp to get a better look at everything. When he was satisfied, he walked cautiously along the paths that people had trodden over the years.

Andrew was not afraid of the night, although many people are afraid of it. She was his companion, as were the crows. The graves served him as silent listeners. Many might say that this makes him strange, but his employer was very grateful to him.

When he entered his small house, where he was allowed to rest, he put the shovel in the corner of the room. He immediately closed the curtains so that the bright sunlight would not blind him. Then he took off his clothes, after washing his hands of dirt and changing into night clothes.

Before going to sleep, he looked in the mirror. His pale red eyes were sad, his platinum hair was laid carelessly, and his bangs hid the right side of his face. His thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door. He knew who would come at such a time.