This sudden, violent downpour swept in, with thunderous clouds pressing heavily over the small town, suffocating its stifling heat and leaving no gaps for escape.

As midnight arrived, the world fell silent. In the dense darkness, raindrops collided with the earthly realm, sending ripples across the once-mirror-like surface of the lake.

In the resort, a faint yellow light emanated from the corner of a villa, like a lonely star drifting through the boundless night.

In the dimly lit, blue-toned room, the rhythmic patter of rain outside disturbed the boy lying on the soft bed. His brows were tightly knit, his limbs stiff, and his breathing grew heavier, as if an invisible hand was clutching his throat.

His body began to tremble uncontrollably, the shaking intensifying with time. Nameless fear and nausea gathered within him, crawling slowly up his throat, intertwining, conspiring, and devouring his fragmented consciousness with excruciating precision.

His heartbeat suddenly accelerated. The searing pain brought by the rising panic foreshadowed an inevitable suffocation, driving him to the brink of death.

In a desperate struggle, he suddenly opened his tightly shut eyes. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, and his deep, dark eyes were filled with blood-red veins, feral and menacing.

Like a damned soul fallen into a hellish abyss, he resisted with the last frayed strands of his spirit. Raindrops fell, and the clock ticked, composing a symphony of life.

Julius stared intently at the smoky blue ceiling, tracing each pattern. His chapped lips quivered as he let out painful and helpless sobs.

Teetering on the edge of losing control, he searched for a glimmer of hope, kissing the depths of despair. Sweat drenched the sheets beneath him, and his dry eyes brimmed with burning tears.

Amid the misty haze, light gradually gathered, and the clouds at the horizon's edge glowed an eerie red, casting a vivid hue on Julius' s pale face.

He refused to let shadows dominate his life.

Better to live freely in imperfection than to exist as a puppet in wholeness.

Finally, the suffocation eased. Awareness returned, and the despair of near-death was replaced by the sensations of his body. His vision focused. Surviving brought no relief or joy—only utter exhaustion.

The cold floor beneath him, Julius walked barefoot toward the balcony. The chilling wind and gentle rain brushed against his thin frame. His long, thick lashes lightly concealed the redness at the corners of his eyes, and his pale lips carried a faint blush.

Raindrops landed on his silk sleepwear, revealing glimpses of his collarbones, like fragile yet captivating roses blooming in the chill. The coldness brought an odd sense of comfort.

At the horizon, the half-risen crimson sun illuminated every inch of Julius's body, generously bestowing what it called hope. Yet his deep, enchanting eyes flickered with unhidden tired.

Having showered, Julius finally looked a little more alive. He casually picked up a perfume bottle from the dresser, its scent gently dispelling the chaos of the previous night. Sitting on the bed, he sorted through the haute couture shirts Vanessa had sent earlier, matching colors and patterns. He settled on a simple white shirt with silver embroidery.

He loosely tied his shoulder-length wavy hair, revealing a slightly tarnished silver earring shaped like a clover—its craftsmanship rough but meaningful.

Summers in Switzerland weren't hot. The cool breeze and fine drizzle accompanied Julius as he strolled leisurely by the lake. With some time left before the dessert shop opened, he decided to personally pick up ingredients for the Cafè.

Gentle morning light filtered through the gaps in the trees and early mist, scattering across the lake's surface. Small ripples sparkled, stirring a golden shimmer.

"Good morning!"

The church bells rang melodiously. A neighbor's cat lazily sprawled on a swing. Across the lake, a couple argued over the plot of a new movie, while the siblings next door began another day of bickering.

The moist wind swept away the remnants of last night's nightmare and discomfort. Julius opened his arms to embrace the tenderness of the morning.

Returning to the shop, the manager Cynthia was busy preparing for the day. The wind chime on the door, the hammock in the yard, the woven red tablecloth, and the flowers on the windowsill all carried traces of her meticulous care.

"Thank you for the hard work, Julius!" Linda inspected the ingredients.

"I'll make the peach cakes today!"

"Sounds great!" Julius's voice brightened at the mention of peach cakes.

"Save me some extras, okay?"

When Julius came to Europe for recovery, he brought only Linda, the nanny who had raised him since childhood. To her, Julius was like her own child. She didn't know the specifics of his struggles, but she had heard that people with mental challenges needed distractions, so she encouraged him to open this small café to give him something to focus on.

"Hello!"

The voice of a customer interrupted his thoughts.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

The dark blue sky fully faded, and the sun shone radiantly, lifting the morning mist and unveiling golden waves over the lake. [16t29 Cafe] had become a must-visit hotspot in the resort, bustling with tourists. Julius politely declined requests for photos.

He brought two glasses of chilled pear juice to a low table near the flower bed, where two little girls, no older than six or seven, sat. One, with a ponytail, was slightly taller, while the other, with braids, was shorter.

"Enjoy," he said with a polite smile.

"You're so pretty!"

the ponytailed girl exclaimed; her eyes wide with surprise.

Caught off guard, Julius met her gaze and noticed her features.

The lake breeze brushed away the warmth around them. Her rosy cheeks, fair skin, and naturally curly brown hair gave Julius a strange sense of familiarity.

"Really!" the braided girl agreed.

"But isn't 'handsome' the right word for boys?"

Julius chuckled at their innocent remarks and politely thanked them.

"Do you have someone you love?" the ponytailed girl asked bluntly.

"..." Julius rubbed his forehead, bemused by the question. Kids these days were so direct! He rolled his eyes playfully, deciding to tease her.

"Do you?" he countered, crouching down to her level, dimples surfacing as he smiled.

"No, I don't!" she replied earnestly, her amber eyes sparkling.

"But I know you do! Someone you love very, very much."

"Why do you say that?" he asked, curious.

"Because you have dimples! Dimples are marks left by the one you love most!"

Her words struck a chord deep within him.

Julius couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion at the words. Time had passed, and years of separation had come between them.

The sunlight after the rain filtered through the thin morning mist, passing through the tall and lush ginkgo branches overhead before scattering across the campus paths.Clad in a clean white sports uniform, the person carried a fresh, subtle scent. Their smile gradually appeared, radiant as a blooming flower. Amber eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief, and the light-brown short curls of their hair glowed faintly golden under the sunlight.

"Stand by me."

"Your name sounds really nice."

"Look for stars; maybe we'll get lucky and find a matched pair."

"By the bike shed."

"Look, it's just like you."

"But you're not. You're real."

"Materialism does not stop me from believing in spirits."

"This is platinum, a fragment of a star."

The fleeting promises of youth brushed past his heart like a breeze. Those cheesy, childish conversations he once scoffed at—every word, every phrase—had secretly given him everything he held dear. What he thought was ethereal and insignificant had etched deeply into his blood, unforgettable and seared into his soul.

"Are you ok?"

The voice of a girl with braided hair snapped Julius's drifting soul back to reality. He avoided her questioning gaze, bending slightly to drizzle syrup over their desserts.

"Enjoy your meal," he murmured, turning swiftly to escape.

He had long grown weary of this torturous slow death.

He thought time could heal all wounds.

He thought he wouldn't spend his life running from it.

Under the golden hues of the setting sun, the gentle breeze carried the sugary aroma of food. Local elders chatted about mundane matters. Outside, a young couple on a hammock whispered sweet nothings, while a toddler wobbled toward their mother, leaning on the fence for support.

He thought the hustle and bustle of everyday life, this earthly warmth, was enough to fill his gallery of memories.

Yet, when the past clawed its way back, tearing through his mind—the screams, the sorrow, the fear devouring his dreams—he questioned whether he truly had the strength to face the ominous shadows of the future alone.

For four years, he tried. For four years, he tried to cast the darkness aside. But every step of those four years, every moment, reminded him:

He couldn't escape it.

The pain and despair were like a needle buried in his veins, cycling through his heart at intervals, leaving him in unbearable agony, crying out in silent anguish.

For four years, he deceived himself evading the weight of the future.

The one thing he both resented and cherished, the one corner of his heart he couldn't let go, was tied to the shadow of the same person.

"Evander."

In his incomplete soul, half of it belonged to Evander.