Prologue

Beads of sweat fell from the square-jawed man's chin. The sound of his breath raced fast, white vapor scattered from his open mouth. His broad palm gripped the cold iron wheel tightly, forcing it to keep turning. Moving the wheels that replaced his legs to bring him closer to the source of his anxiety and madness. Like insects craving fire.

He squeezed his wheelchair to speed as fast as possible on the deserted uphill road. Breaking through the white mist wrapped in midnight darkness without hesitation, restlessness had blinded his sanity, urging him to rampage through streets unknown to his wheels.

Faint rustling of leaves danced by the night wind hurt their branches, surrounding the streets. Nocturnal creatures took turns mocking or encouraging him.

The unfortunate man seemed to start cursing himself. Throughout his life, he had never once violated his own principles, discarding the logic that had made him successful and famous. Now everything had vanished into restlessness, desire, and madness that were entangling him.

"Throughout my life!" he cursed into the empty night.

Struggling two kilometres with his wheelchair, halfway to his destination, he saw the steep road ahead of him. Not a single thought of retreat crossed his mind, refusing to succumb to the silent challenge ahead. Clenching his teeth, he pushed his strength again to conquer the obstacles in front of him, which in the past, he had sworn never to attempt foolishly like other disabled people who engaged in reckless races on steep slopes.

"I am not a fighter! I am just a slave to the pen, a lifter of books, and a house guardian!"

"Damn it!!!" Now he was just a foolish human he once looked down upon.

"Damn it!!!" he cursed again. His hands struggled hard to push himself to reach the top of the slope. In the end, every human would love something. And love would consume them until they forgot themselves, even death seemed insignificant before them.

At the end of the uphill road, the wheelchair stopped moving. His head tilted upwards, mouth wide open gasping for air, struggling to gather strength with a parched throat. Never before had he forced his wheelchair to move until both his hands screamed in pain.

"Claire," he whispered softly from his lips.

A name that had clouded his sanity. He had to reach her immediately. The image of a girl immediately ignited something within him and forced his tired hands to move again, pushing his wheelchair. For her, for a smile on her face, he was willing to do anything.

Since Claire appeared in his life, she had become his entire world.

His eyes sharpened and the wheelchair began to glide down the descending road, quickly accelerating to high speed. The cold air welcomed him, causing his face and body to shiver from the cold. And all this time, he had thought only foolish people sped their wheelchairs at high speeds without caring about safety.

Strengthening his resolve, he moved his hands to increase the speed of the wheel's rotation. At a street corner, he quickly tried to control the wheelchair, struggling to turn the wheels that were moving too fast to make the turn. Suddenly, the wheelchair went wild, shaking his body, the wheels lost control and jumped off the asphalt road. His body tilted and the ground suddenly seemed so close to his face. A few seconds later, he felt a strong impact on his entire body slamming into the ground, and his body was dragged away from the overturned wheelchair. Pain surged through his sleeping body on the ground.

Perhaps... He was only willing to do anything for Claire, as long as she didn't know. As long as she didn't turn around and hate him for what he had done.

***

A girl cried in silence. Her lips were bitten to suppress the pain pressing on her chest.

"God, I beg for your guidance. Show me and my sister a way out. This path is too heavy for us to bear alone."

Sitting on a fast-food restaurant sofa, her hand touched the forehead of a five-year-old girl sleeping soundly, leaning against her thigh. The little girl's forehead was sweaty, with a few strands of hair sticking to it. The surroundings were dark. The girl shedding tears, Claire, was afraid to turn on the restaurant lights to save on electricity costs. She had begged the restaurant owner where she worked to let them stay overnight. She wouldn't dare to inconvenience them any further.

Her face still felt hot from the slap marks left by her mother. Her mother's screams echoed in her mind.

"I regret giving birth to you! I've always said it's better for you to become a prostitute like me than go to college. You never gave me a single cent."

"I will sell Lily, it's my right. I gave birth to her, and you! What have you ever done for me other than make my life difficult!"

Tears flowed again. She looked at the innocent face of the sleeping little girl. Lily was her half-sister from a different father. Only five years old, and she had been taking care of her since she was a baby. There was so much love and affection she felt for her half-sister. She wanted to give her the world and all the happiness, but her hands were too empty to give anything.

Is there any value in a love that's devoid of strength and material wealth?

Her mother, a former prostitute who had long stopped selling herself, always sat on the old sofa in the house, watching television while puffing on a cigarette and sipping hard liquor.

For all this time, it was she who worked tirelessly to provide food for her mother, stepfather, and sibling. However, it was never enough for her mother. Truly, she couldn't make the woman who gave birth to her happy by providing alcohol, especially when money for basic food was already so difficult to come by.

A tear fell from Claire's eyes. Her lips trembled violently. "I've worked myself to death. I've eaten only once a day for you. What more do you want from me? Everything I've done is never enough in your eyes. Will you only be satisfied after I'm dead?"

This morning, her mother stole her future and all the hopes she ever had. Claire bit her lip hard, trying to hold back the sobs that were about to burst out. Afraid her sibling would wake up from the sound of crying. Her heart felt painful and sore. However, her helplessness was even more agonizing.

‘This burden is crushing me. I'm on the verge of breaking down at any moment. If only there was someone to help me.’

***

Alex found his bones screaming in pain, his skin full of scratches and some bloods, his body wet with sweat, his lips and throat dry. Blisters formed under his skin on the palms of his hands. He had just arrived in front of a fast-food restaurant selling burgers and soda. His chest looked swollen, forcing air in and out of his lungs with difficulty. His eyes stared intensely into the dark restaurant window. He couldn't catch any shadow through the glass.

"Claire and her sibling should be in there," he whispered softly.

Why was there no light inside?

Alex tightened his grip on the iron wheel and gathered his strength. The wheelchair moved him towards the restaurant door. His hand raised to knock on the glass door, and his lips were about to shout Claire's name.

Suddenly something held him back. His body froze with his hands hanging in the air, and his voice choked. Doubt gnawed at him, and soon silence enveloped him, leaving only the screams of his rebellious mind fighting against hesitation.

"Damn it, Alex!!!" He clenched his fists tightly.

I know Claire, and she knows me. We're close, laughing together often in recent months. Last night, Claire waved goodbye to me at the university with a happy smile. She even said 'see you tomorrow,' which still echoed in my ears. She wouldn't mind seeing me.

To hell with your fear, Alex. Move forward and meet her, reach out your hand. How long have you been patient? How much longer will you hide from her?

The outstretched hand moved to knock on the door but suddenly stopped again.

Despite our good relationship, I couldn't just show up here like this, in the middle of the night, extending help. I could snap my fingers and make all her problems disappear in an instant with the wind. I could cater to all of Claire's wishes and shower her with happiness in the blink of an eye.

But...

A tired sigh escaped his chest. His hand, hanging in the air, fell limp. He was too scared... scared that the girl would hate him. Amidst the chilling air penetrating flesh and biting bones, Alex sat helplessly in his wheelchair for an hour.

There were already hundreds of reasons in his mind to make Claire believe and accept him if he called her right now. There were hundreds of similar words repeated on the tip of his tongue as the first words to say to her if she came out of the restaurant. Yet, not a single ounce of courage was nurtured to start it and overcome all his cowardly limits.

Alex's eyes were wet. He clenched his fists tightly and hit his thigh.

I hate these legs, I hate myself!

Truly, he was terribly afraid Claire would suspect him, ask too many questions, and ultimately hate him. Especially when she found out all the truths about him and what he had done to her. He didn't want any of that to happen.

The feeling of love always grew alongside the fear of losing.

"I won't ask for more, just to face the loss..." Alex turned his wheelchair around to head back home. His wheelchair looked slow as it cut through the cold wind. His body shivered with cold, exhaustion, and weariness. He still had to make the lonely journey home, accompanied by regret and self-loathing.

Claire, the only girl he had ever loved but could never have.

I never chose to love her, my heart did, and I'm powerless against it.

All of this made his chest feel tight. Upon arriving home with water blisters on both palms that had burst, leaving a painful sensation, Alex approached the telephone on his office desk. He dialled the familiar number and waited for a moment.

"Keaton, sorry to wake you up so early," Alex whispered through the phone handle. "I need you... about Claire... again. Do whatever you can."