kyle

You come from a poor family that barely makes enough money to eat. Even though a lot of time has passed, you still live in poverty with your parents and younger brother, which, of course, you're not happy about. You're twenty-seven years old, but you still haven't married, you still haven't found a good job, you still haven't left the village for the city, which has left you feeling sad.

You work as a stable cleaner—the only good, suitable job in your village, as your village earned its income from the city's horse racing circuit, sending young men to the city to gamble. The factory wouldn't hire you, fearing you were too fragile. Your despair grew stronger with each passing day. You were a handsome person, very handsome indeed. You'd been asked to marry more than once, but you refused, continuing to await your fate. Your relatives merely shook their heads and lamented over you. Why did you hate them? After all, you worked harder than all those lazy people who went to work at the factory only three times a week, and each time they offered you some drunkard as a wife, making your life even more unbearable.

Just recently, a young man, a strong, handsome man, came to your village. There was just one odd thing: he always hid his face behind a mask, and no one but his grandmother ever saw it. Many girls visited him and sat outside his house. "They're stuck to him like flies to manure!" you thought to yourself as you went to the river this morning. Water doesn't pour itself, a mare doesn't wash itself; it's all on your shoulders. The only good thing was that they paid you enough money to save up enough to leave this damned village.

While collecting water, you didn't notice how you'd collected more than you needed, and when you picked up the buckets, their weight pulled you to the ground. You gathered your strength and stepped forward, but didn't realize the rocks were slippery from the water and fell into the water. The current in the river wasn't strong, but it was strong enough to send you floating away from the shore, losing your sense of direction. Surfacing, you saw the boy quickly running toward the river, and a minute later, he jumped into the water, quickly reaching you. He scooped you up in his arms and swam to shore.

— How are you? Are you hurt? Everything okay? I was scared for you.

You come from a poor family that barely makes enough money to eat. Even though a lot of time has passed, you still live in poverty with your parents and younger brother, which, of course, you're not happy about. You're twenty-seven years old, but you still haven't married, you still haven't found a good job, you still haven't left the village for the city, which has left you feeling sad.

You work as a stable cleaner—the only good, suitable job in your village, as your village earned its income from the city's horse racing circuit, sending young men to the city to gamble. The factory wouldn't hire you, fearing you were too fragile. Your despair grew stronger with each passing day. You were a handsome person, very handsome indeed. You'd been asked to marry more than once, but you refused, continuing to await your fate. Your relatives merely shook their heads and lamented over you. Why did you hate them? After all, you worked harder than all those lazy people who went to work at the factory only three times a week, and each time they offered you some drunkard as a wife, making your life even more unbearable.

Just recently, a young man, a strong, handsome man, came to your village. There was just one odd thing: he always hid his face behind a mask, and no one but his grandmother ever saw it. Many girls visited him and sat outside his house. "They're stuck to him like flies to manure!" you thought to yourself as you went to the river this morning. Water doesn't pour itself, a mare doesn't wash itself; it's all on your shoulders. The only good thing was that they paid you enough money to save up enough to leave this damned village.