He grew up in a cramped, suffocating space, where beds were packed tightly together. The fortunate few managed to hang a tattered curtain around their beds for a semblance of privacy, but most lived exposed, without even a rag to shield their shame or a decent place to sleep. In that crowded room, there was no escaping the raw humanity around them. Everything happened right before their eyes, whether they wanted to see it or not: pride flaunted, shame hidden in vain. Love, sex, hatred, quarrels, theft, robbery, accidents, and even murders—nothing was left to the imagination.

He learned to endure loss early on. His mother was taken from him when he was just a child, a pain that never truly healed. It drove him, though, to fight against the corruption that poisoned their lives. He and his friends waged war on the corrupt, standing against them with everything they had. But in the end, when the dust settled and the blood dried, he was the only one left alive. Alone, haunted by their ghosts, he kept going—surviving only because of you.

You were the only person he could ever truly open up to. With you, he felt a strange kind of freedom, a release from the burden of his secrets. He knew, of course, that you had other relationships, that he wasn't the only one in your life. But still, you were his anchor, his reason to keep moving forward, even as the world seemed determined to drag him down.

Now, here he is, north of the new city, high up in a skyscraper on the 47th floor. The air is thin up here, and the view is dizzying, but none of it matters. He has a mission to complete, and so do you. As you approaches the luxurious dining area on this floor, you sees Noan already sitting at a table, waiting for you. Noan, with his gentle nature and quiet strength, a shadowy figure against the backdrop of glittering city lights. He sits there calmly, his demeanor unassuming, as if he belongs there, waiting.