The night air pierced his skin as Anza sipped the last of his coffee. The café was nearly empty now, leaving only a waiter tidying up the messy tables. The warm glow from the hanging lamps lit up his half-empty cup, leaving a dark stain inside.
Outside, the rain still poured heavily, soaking the sidewalks and streets that now glistened under the streetlights. He stared at his phone—the screen reflected his tired face, and behind the app icons was a faint image of a woman's gentle smile as his wallpaper. His mother.
For a moment, Anza's gaze hardened before shifting to the row of unread notifications, trying to distract himself from everything. Client messages still lined up, Hana's texts remained unanswered, and his head felt heavier.
It was almost half-past eleven when the last waiter began turning off the lights in several corners of the café. Anza sighed, grabbed his jacket, and stepped outside. As the glass door shut behind him, the cold air rushed at him.
He walked briskly, avoiding puddles scattered along the sidewalk. His jacket was already damp, and his sneakers soaked when he accidentally stepped into a shallow pool of water.
Then, through the sound of the rain muffling everything else, he heard something.
Thud.
A heavy sound, like something hitting the ground. Anza stopped.
His eyes scanned around, searching for the source. No one was on the street—only rows of lights illuminating the wet asphalt and the shuttered shopfronts. But the sound came again—softer this time, followed by labored, uneven breathing.
He turned toward a small alley to the left. Dark and quiet. The back doors of several shops lined the narrow path, and the smell of wet asphalt mingled with a faint scent of rust from the old pipes on the walls.
"Don't get involved, Anza," he told himself.
But his curiosity couldn't be held back. Something inside him said there was someone—or something—there that needed help. Hesitantly, he stepped into the alley.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw it.
A small figure lay in the middle of the wet path. At first, he thought it was just a bird or a stray cat. But as he got closer, his breath caught.
It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before.
Its body was tiny, about the size of a kitten, with golden fur drenched and matted with blood. Small wings drooped at its sides, limp and torn in places. And the most striking thing—a small silver arrow was lodged deep in its shoulder, gleaming under the faint streetlight.
Anza swallowed hard.
"What is this…?" he whispered, his eyes fixed on the fragile creature.
His heart pounded faster. He tried to find a rational explanation—maybe this was a nightmare? Or fatigue messing with his senses? But no, it was real. Warm blood seeped onto his shoes, and the creature's labored breathing was clear in his ears.
Slowly, the creature raised its head.
A pair of large eyes met his—filled with pain, yet piercing, as if staring into his soul. In that instant, Anza felt something he couldn't explain. As if an invisible thread connected them, something deeper than a mere encounter.
The creature tried to move but only managed a weak blink before collapsing again, completely drained.
Anza crouched, reaching out hesitantly. Up close, he could see it more clearly: golden fur faintly glowing like starlight, and wings that, despite their size, had patterns that looked almost mystical.
"I don't know if you're an animal, a bird, or some kind of myth," he murmured, half to himself. "But you definitely need help."
The creature let out a soft sound—not like a typical animal cry, but something deeper, almost like a signal.
Anza bit his lip, then pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Hana:
> Anza:
Hana, I found something. I need your help. Don't ask anything. I'll be home soon.
Without thinking further, he took off his jacket and gently wrapped the small creature. He could feel its fading warmth against his hands, making it clear he had to act fast.
Carefully, he picked it up and cradled it against his chest. The rain kept pouring, soaking his face and jacket, but he didn't care.
He had to take this creature home.
Whatever it was, whoever was after it, however it ended up in this world—Anza knew one thing:
He couldn't just leave it behind.