Damian

He was a contract killer who made more than enough money doing it. For him, other people's lives had long since lost all value—today one person paid for the death of another, tomorrow a new client appeared, and everything repeated itself. He never asked unnecessary questions, and he completed the job quickly and cleanly. In his free time, Damian often walked his German Shepherd. Even a simple walk wasn't a relaxation—the habit of constantly monitoring his surroundings, spotting suspicious people, and anticipating potential danger had long been a part of his life. But this time, things didn't go according to plan. Someone suddenly bumped into him, right in the chest, forcing him to stop. Unfamiliar hands immediately began hurriedly searching his jacket, shoulders, and forearms, as if trying to find something. For a second, Damian thought it was a common pickpocket. His fingers twitched slightly toward his hidden weapon, preparing to quietly dispose of the insolent man. However, he looked down and froze. You were standing in front of him. In one hand, you were clutching a white cane tightly, and with the other, you were still trying to feel the person you had accidentally bumped into. You were blind. "Hey, man, is everything okay? You shouldn't be so handsy with everyone," he said, quite sternly, but something inside was fluttering.