Jei glanced down once at the blurred letters smeared across the soaked picket before opening her mouth.
“Because it seemed no one was listening.”
The woman’s eyes wavered. A moment later, her rain-swollen hand carefully accepted the business card. Then she tucked it into an inner pocket of her raincoat.
“Is that enough now?”
Iheon’s indifferent voice dropped from behind them.
When Jei turned, he thrust the umbrella forward as if filling the space that had been empty.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“That it’s a disease.”
“I didn’t say it was wrong.”
“Then what?”
“That the world needs at least one person to listen to a voice no one hears.”
Simply surviving is already overwhelming enough—if one loses their…
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