Chapter 2

I unwound my scarf and wrapped it around him. The cold wind immediately cut into my collar.

The restaurant owner saw Adrian soaked and freezing and wanted to throw him out. I left my student ID and bank card at the counter and promised to clean tables before leaving.

I sat across from him. I didn't ask how he'd ended up like this. I just pushed a napkin toward his hand.

Adrian ate slowly, pausing now and then to listen for footsteps outside. I realized he was used to being ready to run.

Six years ago, I was a sophomore at Grayhaven University.

I'd just left the library, snowmelt soaking my boots, my mother's text on my phone asking me to come home for dinner.

I was going to take the main road, but I heard an argument behind the old harbor warehouses.

A few vagrants surrounded a drainage ditch, laughing coarsely.

A young man crouched by the ditch, around twenty, so thin his cheekbones stood out.

He couldn't see. His eyes were clouded gray. But he still held a cracked bowl against his chest.

"Put the bowl down, blind man." Someone kicked him.

The man's knee hit a stone. Blood seeped through his pant leg.

He didn't cry out. He just pulled the bowl tighter to his chest. Inside were mud-stained breadcrumbs and cold soup.

I stopped.

A mechanical chime sounded in my head.

【Main mission: Approach Ethan Cole. Prevent his death at the hands of Adrian Cross.】

But my eyes were on the man on the ground.

Adrian's fingers were purple with cold, still groping along the ground inch by inch, as if finding a dropped piece of food meant one more day alive.

"Don't go over there," the system warned. "He's the villain in the original storyline."

"Right now he's just a man freezing to death," I said.

I ran over, blocked Adrian, and held up my phone. "I've already called the police. The cameras got your faces too."

The men cursed and scattered.

I crouched and wrapped my scarf around Adrian's neck. He grabbed my wrist immediately, hard enough to hurt.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Claire."

"Why help me?"

I looked at the blood on his face and the cracked bowl in his arms, and softened my voice. "Because you need someone to help you."

He didn't thank me. He just let go, like he didn't believe kindness could be free.

I brought him to the corner restaurant and bought hot soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Adrian found the paper bowl, checked that the lid hadn't been opened, then swallowed it bite by bite.

I didn't know that meal would be something he remembered for years.

I also didn't know I was pushing Ethan's original fate onto a new path.

The restaurant owner brought hot water and urged me to call the police.

When Adrian heard the word "police," his body went rigid. Not because he'd done anything wrong, but because he was afraid someone would send him back to the shelter that had held him before.

I didn't drag him. I just told him he could decide where to go.

In the end, he chose to come with me, hand still gripping the paper bowl.

After eating, Adrian folded the bowl neatly and tucked it into his coat pocket.

I asked why he kept it. He said, "To prove I didn't starve today."

I didn't laugh. I just zipped his coat up to his chin.

The restaurant owner poured Adrian hot water. He held the cup but first felt for the rim.

I didn't rush him. I just waited until he was ready.

After the clinic treated his wounds, Adrian refused the wheelchair. He said he could walk. The nurse reminded him the wound on his foot would split open.

I didn't decide for him. I only asked if he wanted advice.

He was silent for a moment, then got in the wheelchair.

In that moment I saw he didn't lack the need for help. He was afraid that accepting it would cost him the last of his dignity.

I began to understand. Companionship isn't carrying everything for someone. It's letting them choose.

Adrian signed up for temporary job training at the community center.

The staff asked if he needed accessible materials. He said yes.

For the first time, he didn't pretend he could do everything alone.

Adrian learned to use a cane. Walking to the door, he bumped into a chair.

He stopped and felt for the position again. He didn't kick the chair away.

That was the first time he faced his limitations with patience.

Adrian gave his name at the service desk. The staff registered a temporary pass for him.

The clinic nurse wrote Adrian's name on a wristband.

He touched the letters and, for the first time, didn't introduce himself as "that blind guy."

He asked if the clinic still had rehabilitation courses. The nurse noted the time for him.