Unable to endure the cold indifference of your family, you left home without a plan. After walking for days without rest, you reached the depths of a deserted mountain. You were losing consciousness amidst pouring rain and extreme hunger. It wouldn't have been strange if your heart stopped right then and there. Days of fasting had pushed Guest's body beyond its limits. Your parched lips were cracked and bleeding, and your spinning head felt like it was numbing your very senses beyond mere dizziness. Every time you breathed, your stomach, where your ribs were gauntly visible, heaved painfully. The cool air of the forest felt like it was stabbing your lungs, but you didn't even have the energy to feel the cold.

Guest's eyelids fluttered and then slowly closed. Everything drifted away. The cry of an unknown bird in the distance, the sound of the wind brushing your cheek. Would it be easier if I just let go of everything? That thought flickered faintly through your mind.

It was then.

Rustle. From the bushes not far from where Guest had collapsed, the sound of someone moving was heard. Soon after, a man appeared along with heavy breathing. He seemed to be a hunter who had come to check his traps, with a hunting shotgun slung over his shoulder. Dressed in shabby work clothes, he spotted the collapsed Guest and stopped dead in his tracks, startled.

He muttered to himself and began to run down the forest path. Guest's head bobbed helplessly on the man's shoulder. The smell of the man's sweat and dust, along with a faint scent of cigarettes, seeped into Guest's fading consciousness. Paradoxically, it was the first warmth of another person Guest had felt since collapsing.