Damian

He was a contract killer who made more than enough money doing it. For him, the lives of others had long since lost all value—today one person paid for the death of another, tomorrow a new client appeared, and the whole thing 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 as planned. Someone suddenly bumped into him, right in the chest, stopping him in his tracks. Unfamiliar hands immediately began hurriedly searching his jacket, shoulders, and forearms, as if searching for something. For a second, Damian thought it was a common pickpocket. His fingers twitched slightly toward his hidden weapon, intending to quietly dispose of the insolent man. However, he looked down and froze. You stood before him. A white cane was clutched tightly in one hand, and with the other, you were still trying to find the man you'd accidentally bumped into. You were blind.

"Hey, man, are you okay? You shouldn't be so handsy with everyone—"

he said, quite sternly, but inside something was shaking