Dongo sat behind a dark wooden desk, watching the same video clip for the third time.
The screen showed the damaged interior of Hevix Vortex.
Broken glass. Damaged equipment. Panicked guards.
Then the footage changed.
A news report about the discovery of the facility appeared on the screen, followed by the image of Unknown Z’s familiar sign.
Dongo stopped the video.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Fizo stood a few steps behind him in a black formal shirt. Two other men waited near the wall.
"Sir," Fizo said, "the police have already started questioning the people connected to Vortex."
Dongo’s fingers rested on the edge of the desk.
"How many?"
"Enough to make the situation difficult, Sir."
Dongo looked at the frozen image.
"Difficult?"
Fizo understood.
"The operation has been exposed."
Dongo leaned back.
"Unknown Z again."
One of the men near the wall spoke carefully.
"Sir, we lost several people and a large amount of product."
Dongo’s eyes moved toward him.
"Lost?"
The man lowered his head.
"Yes, Sir."
Dongo picked up a glass from the desk.
He stared at it for a second.
Then—
Crack!
The glass struck the edge of the desk and broke.
Nobody moved.
Dongo looked down at the broken pieces.
"Arrange everything."
Fizo immediately nodded.
"Yes, Sir."
"The remaining supply points. Move them."
"Understood."
"People connected to Vortex?"
"I’ll handle them."
Dongo gave a small nod.
"Bring the person responsible for security here."
A few minutes later, a nervous man was brought into the room.
His clothes were disordered, and his face was pale.
He stopped several feet from Dongo.
"Sir..."
Dongo looked at him.
"Where were you?"
The man swallowed.
"I was at the supply point, Sir. I wasn’t inside when the video was made."
Dongo said nothing.
The man quickly continued.
"I swear, Sir. I didn’t know what was happening. The guards were supposed to control the area. I only received the report after—"
"Stop."
The single word silenced him.
Dongo stood.
"You were responsible for the place, yet you didn’t know what was happening inside."
"Sir, I—"
"You didn’t know about the video."
"No, Sir."
"You didn’t know the facility was compromised."
"I didn’t, Sir."
Dongo walked around the desk.
His expression remained calm.
That made the man even more nervous.
"You may be telling the truth."
The man’s face showed a brief sign of relief.
"But I don’t believe you."
His expression changed immediately.
"Sir, please..."
Dongo looked at Fizo.
Fizo understood without being told twice.
"Take him outside."
The man began pleading.
"Sir! Give me another chance! I can fix this!"
Dongo turned away.
A few moments later, a single gunshot sounded from the corridor.
Then everything became quiet again.
Fizo returned to the room.
Dongo adjusted the expensive watch on his wrist.
"One mistake can cover another mistake."
He looked toward the dark screen.
"But there is no room for a third."
The room Irin had lived in was small and old.
Time had worn down the white paint on the walls, exposing cracks beneath it.
Thin spiderwebs filled the corners of the ceiling.
An old fan turned above her with a rusty, uneven sound.
The room contained very little.
A narrow bed.
A small wooden table.
An old chair.
And a backpack resting beside the wall.
Irin sat on the edge of the bed with headphones over her ears.
Since she couldn’t read printed text, she converted every script into audio before practicing.
A calm digital voice read the script once.
Irin listened carefully.
Then she repeated the entire passage.
Every word.
Every pronunciation.
Every change in tone.
Even the emotion matched the script.
When the recording ended, she removed one side of the headphones.
A helpless smile appeared on her face.
"Heh..."
She lowered her head.
"Such beautiful scripts... and they always give me small product advertisements."
She touched the edge of the headphones.
"Who would trust a blind person with the main character of an anime... or a role in a major audio drama?"
She paused.
Then gave a small sigh.
"That’s reality, I suppose."
A few seconds passed.
Irin smiled again.
"Still... thank you, Creator."
Her voice became warmer.
"You gave me the chance to experience this world."
She rested a hand against her chest.
"And somehow, you even allowed me to become a character in a story You wrote."
For a moment, she simply sat there.
Then—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Someone struck the door hard.
Irin lifted her head.
"Who is it?"
A rough voice came from outside.
"Open the door!"
Irin recognized the landlord’s voice.
"Oh no..."
She stood and walked toward the door.
Click.
The old wooden door opened.
The landlord stood outside with an irritated expression.
"Irin. Three months."
She lowered her head.
"Please... can you give me a little more time?"
"You said the same thing last month."
His voice became firmer.
"I trusted you once. I won’t do it again."
Irin held the doorframe.
"If you can’t pay, leave."
He pointed toward the room.
"Otherwise, I’ll put your belongings outside myself."
Irin remained quiet for a moment.
"No. You don’t have to do that."
She turned and walked back inside.
A few moments later, she returned with a small envelope.
"This is everything I managed to save."
She placed the money in his hand.
He counted it.
His expression remained dissatisfied.
"Still not enough."
Irin lowered her hand.
Her fingers moved toward the small silver nose pin she always wore.
She carefully removed it.
For a second, she held it between her fingers.
Then she offered it to him.
"This should cover the rest."
The landlord examined it.
He placed it in his pocket.
Without another word, he walked away.
Irin remained at the doorway.
The corridor became quiet again.
A cool breeze passed through the empty room.
She turned her face toward the room.
This place had never been beautiful.
But it had been her home.
A small smile touched her lips.
"Thank you..."
She wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular.
She was thanking the memories she was leaving behind.
Irin lifted her backpack.
She stepped outside.
Then she closed the door for the last time.
Click.
She walked away.
Evening had arrived.
Rain clouds covered the sky, and a cool wind moved through the streets.
Irin walked away from the apartment building with her old backpack over one shoulder.
Her white cane tapped against the sidewalk.
Tap... tap... tap...
She didn’t look back.
After several minutes, she found an empty bench beside the sidewalk.
She sat down.
The city continued around her.
Cars passed.
People hurried along the road.
Voices came from nearby shops.
Yet Irin felt completely alone.
She pulled her backpack closer.
"Creator..."
A faint smile appeared.
"Your way of testing people is really strange."
She tilted her face toward the sky.
"But I’ve always believed that people who continue trusting You will eventually find something better."
A gust of wind passed across her face.
Thunder sounded in the distance.
"Storms are frightening."
She paused.
"Everything feels uncertain while they’re happening."
Her voice softened.
"But after the storm ends..."
She smiled.
"...somehow, the world looks brighter."
Irin closed her eyes behind the black ribbon.
A small black butterfly drifted through the air.
It landed gently on the ribbon covering her eyes.
She didn’t notice.
But she smiled anyway.
Someone sat down beside her.
The wooden bench made a faint creaking sound.
Irin’s head turned slightly.
"Who?"
A middle-aged man’s voice answered.
"Oh? You noticed immediately."
He gave a small laugh.
"I own a convenience store nearby."
"My name isn’t important."
His attention moved over her old backpack and worn clothes.
"You look like you’re searching for work."
He leaned slightly closer.
"If you’re willing to adjust to the situation, I might be able to arrange a job for you."
Irin’s smile disappeared.
"No."
"Don’t refuse so quickly."
The man’s voice changed.
"You should understand your situation."
His hand moved toward hers.
Before he could touch her, Irin stepped back.
His fingers met empty air.
He moved closer again.
"Please..."
Irin’s voice remained controlled.
"Don’t touch me."
The man’s expression hardened.
"Arrogant."
He looked at her.
"You’re blind and homeless. You should be grateful that anyone is even offering you something."
Irin tightened her grip around her white cane.
The man gave a cold laugh.
"What?"
"You think that stick can scare me?"
For a second, the street seemed quieter.
Then a familiar voice came from behind them.
"Hey! Irin! I’m here!"
The man froze.
Footsteps approached quickly.
A young man carrying a black umbrella came into view.
Yemir.
The store owner immediately turned and tried to leave.
"Wait."
Yemir’s voice stopped him.
The man turned.
"Who are you? Don’t interfere—"
He didn’t finish.
Yemir grabbed his collar.
Boom!
One punch sent the man to the ground.
He went unconscious.
Irin turned toward Yemir.
"Why did you do that?"
Yemir looked at the unconscious man.
"He deserved it."
He adjusted his grip on the umbrella.
"I stopped him before he could escape."
Irin slowly relaxed her grip on the cane.
Then she recognized his voice completely.
"You’re definitely Yemir."
Yemir stopped beside her.
His eyes moved toward the large backpack.
Then toward her face.
"Why are you sitting here?"
He paused.
"And why are you carrying all your belongings?"
Irin didn’t answer.
Yemir scratched the back of his head.
Then he sat beside her.
"Can I ask you a strange question?"
"What?"
He gave an awkward smile.
"If a blind person cries..."
He tilted his head.
"Do the tears still roll down?"
For a second, Irin said nothing.
Then—
"Pfft..."
A small laugh escaped her.
Yemir blinked.
"You laughed."
He smiled.
"Looks like my terrible jokes still work."
Irin shook her head.
"You’re strange."
Then she added,
"But thank you."
Her smile faded again.
"My landlord made me leave."
Yemir’s expression changed.
"Why?"
"I couldn’t pay three months of rent."
Yemir looked down.
"I’m sorry."
After a moment, he asked,
"How much do you usually earn from voice acting?"
"Not much."
Irin held the strap of her backpack.
"Most companies give me small advertisements."
"Sometimes I earn fifty dollars."
"Sometimes nothing."
"It changes every month."
Yemir listened.
Then he smiled.
"You know..."
Irin turned toward him.
"You’re stronger than you think."
She paused.
"Really?"
"Nobody has ever said that to me."
She gave a small, uncertain smile.
"I don’t even know how I’m supposed to respond."
Yemir looked at the ribbon covering her eyes.
He would never know what colour her eyes were.
Yet her smile somehow seemed brighter than many people’s eyes.
Irin noticed his silence.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He looked away.
"I was just wondering..."
"How do you keep smiling after going through so much?"
Irin answered without hesitation.
"Because the Creator gave me the chance to experience life."
She smiled.
"Even with the painful parts, I’m grateful."
Yemir laughed softly.
"There’s no arguing with you."
Irin smiled.
"You think too highly of me."
"No."
He shook his head.
"I don’t."
He paused.
"Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"I have an extra room."
Irin remained still.
"It’s small."
"Small...so?"
"There’s nothing special about it."
"But if you have nowhere else to go..."
"You can stay there."
"O-ow...but..."
Yemir immediately raised both hands.
"Wait! Don’t misunderstand!"
"I’m not forcing you."
"I know that..."
"You don’t have to accept."
"I just..."
He looked away.
"I couldn’t leave you here alone."
Irin covered her face with one hand.
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"You’re overthinking again."
Yemir blinked.
"Does that mean..."
He looked at her.
"You trust me?"
Irin lowered her hand.
"Yes. But... "
Yemir’s face brightened.
"Really?"
"Thank you!"
Irin smiled.
"Thanks... But why? You should be the one I thank."
She stood.
Yemir reached toward her white cane.
"Can I take it?"
Irin hesitated.
Then she placed the cane in his hand.
"Lead the way."
Yemir opened his black umbrella.
Together, they began walking down the sidewalk.
High above them, the small black butterfly opened its wings.
And the evening carried it away.