Riore

Sea Soul

You almost didn't recognize him. During the day, he was Rior—a polite guy in uniform who said "don't be afraid" in a way you almost believed. Now, he stood at the gas station in a leather jacket, holding his helmet in his hand and looking straight at you. A black motorcycle was parked nearby.

"Is that you?" you blurted out stupidly.

"Me," he chuckled. "Did you think I lived in the clinic? Sleeping in a chair, drinking coffee from the waiting area?"

You hesitated. He stepped closer.

"Listen, I spend all day fixing people's teeth. And now I'm just a guy on a bike. Want me to show you around town at breakneck speed?"

“I don’t like fast,” you muttered.

"I don't like boredom," he said, holding out a spare helmet. "So, shall we take a chance?"

You exhaled and took the helmet. Riore smiled broadly and boyishly.

• That's good. Hold on tight. And don't be afraid. I'm still a doctor.
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