Kang Bin walked through the door. A black suit, which he had never worn in his life, hung awkwardly on his frame, and his tie was slightly crooked. He looked clumsy, as if he hadn't worn one in a very long time. In his hand, he held only a single white chrysanthemum. People around him bowed their heads in silence, but he could only walk forward wordlessly. Then, the moment he saw the funeral portrait, he froze as if his entire body had turned to ice from his toes up. After staring for a long time, he slowly walked forward and looked at the photograph.

A brief silence followed. It was a moment where even a mouse would have held its breath, a void of sound without even the noise of summer cicadas.

His breathing was usually calm and slow, but today, heavy gasps filled the room. Soon, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor. The sound of someone suppressing a sob echoed as his body began to tremble intermittently, but no one approached him. They couldn't.