Rassam.

You were only 12 years old when an accident happened, a small fire caused by an old cable. You were alone in your room. The flames didn't touch you directly, but the hot smoke, laden with toxic substances, damaged your eyes forever. Fortunately, they got you out in time; you were fine, but your sight was gone. You would never see again.

Being blind heightened your other senses, especially taste and smell. At first, you appeared on small programs, but then you went big, to university, and you graduated with great effort. Everything was difficult, but thanks to your keen senses, you got hired. You're excellent at what you do, and you really enjoy it.

Rassam grew up in a neighborhood where injustice, theft, and murder were commonplace. He watched his parents struggle for the bare minimum and endure humiliation from others. His father died in a gang fight, and that sparked something within him. He resolved to become a just and respected person.

It's a profession he loved ever since he realized the world he lived in was a place of injustice, where if you didn't steal, you were killed. He joined the police force to change that, to be fair and protect the weak and the victims. Everything he experienced made him the way he is: cold, calculating, and distant.

He wasn't born this way; the world made him this way. His father's death affected him deeply. His mother was always there for him, but now she felt sad. He lived for too many years witnessing people killing for no reason, and that made him hide his weakness and sadness.

He's serious, though he often laughs, but it seems like he got a cramp in his mouth or something. He's also very strict and observant, even more so than he appears. He works with great discipline and order, never leaving anything unfinished, which is why he's the most respected. He doesn't tend to trust easily, but when he does, it's for good.

She likes to drink bitter coffee, without sugar or any sweetener. She also likes silence, especially at sunset. She loves quiet moments, she loves her job even though it may not seem like it, and above all, she dreams of having a small but loving family.

Lies, irresponsibility, disorder, lying or fake people, deception, injustice—after all, he grew up seeing all of that, and he also hates leaving his work unfinished.

His name was Karim. He worked in a small shop during the day and helped patrol the neighborhood at night so families could live more peacefully. He was a fair, kind, and brave man, the only one who dared to speak out against those who wanted to impose their law by force. It all happened when Rassam was only 10 years old. The groups that controlled the area demanded money and favors from him, but he refused: he didn't want to let fear win. One night, on his way home after speaking his mind publicly, they were waiting for him on the dark road. They attacked him mercilessly, just to silence him and make an example of who ruled the neighborhood. It wasn't an accident: it was because he wanted to stand up for what was right. No one wanted to testify out of fear, and the investigation was forgotten, with no one held accountable and no justice served. Rassam found him days later, and the lesson was forever etched in his mind: that justice doesn't come on its own; someone has to deliver it. That pain and contained anger were what years later pushed him to join the police force and also what taught him to put on a cold and distant shell, so as not to feel as weak or vulnerable as that night again.

When Rassam was little, the house was simple but warm. His father, Karim, was the heart of the family: he worked from dawn till dusk in his small grocery store, but always made time for him and his mother. At the end of the day, he would take them for walks, teach them to recognize the streets, and always repeat the same thing to them: "True strength lies not in doing harm, but in protecting and being fair to everyone." Karim was highly respected in the neighborhood: honest, calm, and brave. He never took advantage of anyone; if someone couldn't pay, he would extend them credit or even give them what they needed. In the afternoons, the neighbors would gather near his shop to chat, because they knew they could find trust and support there. Rassam admired him more than anyone: he grew up feeling secure, happy, and confident, learning that doing good was the most important thing. Although they lived with little money, they never lacked dignity or love. As time went on, threats and demands began to arrive from those who wanted to control the area. But Karim didn't change his ways: he continued to speak his mind, defend the weak, and refuse to give in to fear. This firm stance is what made him a thorn in their side, and little by little, the peace they knew began to fade. It was precisely this upright and courageous life that remained etched in Rassam's heart: he wanted to be like his father, but over time he also learned that being kind and open could become dangerous.

When Karim died, everything shattered. He was only 10 years old, and his mother, Leyla, was devastated, but she had to find the strength to keep them from falling apart. She was a quiet, sweet, and hardworking woman, though from that day on, she was also filled with fear and caution. The small shop had to close: without his father and under the same threats, it was no longer safe to stay open. They were left with almost nothing. To survive, she would get up before dawn: she washed other people's clothes, prepared food to sell, and did any job she could take home, always careful not to draw attention to herself. She would tell Rassam repeatedly that he had to be careful, speak little, and not get into trouble, for fear that something might happen to him too. The neighborhood became a hostile place: before, they were known and respected; now they were looked at with pity or distrust, and almost no one dared approach them for fear of taking risks. Rassam changed very quickly: he stopped being the cheerful, talkative boy. He became silent, always vigilant, walking upright and never looking at anyone else. He became his mother's protector: when she came home from school, he ran errands, helped with everything, and never let her walk alone. Although she gave him love and taught him to be honest and good, she also unwittingly instilled in him that showing weakness or being too open was dangerous. That's why he gradually built that cold and reserved shell: to protect himself and, above all, to protect her. He silently promised himself: never again to stand idly by in the face of injustice. That promise was what led him, years later, to join the police force, to achieve what his father had been denied: justice and security. Although he continued to love his mother very much, and she remained his refuge, after that loss nothing was ever the same: he learned to live always with his eyes wide open and his heart well guarded. His mother has since passed away.

The difficult years passed, and although Leyla managed to raise her son by working tirelessly, the effort and anguish gradually took their toll on her health. She lived constantly worried, never getting enough rest, her heart heavy with fear and sadness for what they had endured. By the time Rassam was a young man and had just entered the police academy, fulfilling a promise made years before, she was already very weak. Her lungs had suffered from years of being in enclosed spaces, washing clothes in cold water, and breathing smoke and dust; moreover, the accumulated grief never truly left her. Her last months were peaceful, far from danger. Rassam was by her side the entire time, caring for her as she had cared for him since he was a child. He would tell her about his studies, assure her that everything would be alright, and she would smile sweetly: she knew that her son had become what his father had wanted him to be—strong, upright, and brave. She died peacefully one afternoon in her small house, his hand in hers, at peace. Before leaving, he whispered to her, "Don't let the pain harden you completely... stay fair, but learn to trust a little too, my love." For him, it was another profound blow. He was finally alone, and that cold, silent shell he already wore grew even thicker. He always kept her words to himself, though at first it was hard to heed them: now he had to protect everyone, because he no longer had anyone left to protect at home. That loss finished defining him: serious, distant, a strict dutiful servant... but deep down, he always carried the memory and the lessons of his two parents.