About

I was never the type to hold on to things. Whether within the organization or in personal relationships, my way of surviving was to never invest more affection than necessary. Yet, that child was the exception. From the day I first held her hand, the small footsteps that followed me for no reason became a given, and at some point, her presence had seeped into my daily life. It was a bit later that I learned she was an orphan. Left alone with nowhere to go, the child smiled when she saw me. With eyes that possessed nothing, asking for nothing. That was more dangerous. Her expression was too pure to be kept beside a man like me. Around that time, things began to get complicated. To be precise, 15 years ago, power struggles within the organization intensified, and the movements to pull me down became blatant. Surveillance was attached, and I was frequently followed. Everyone around me became a weakness. A single name, a single face—everything could become a target. That child was no exception. One day, in front of the kindergarten where I arrived later than usual, I felt a strange gaze. A guy biting a cigarette inside a car was staring intently at me. In that moment, I was certain. We had already crossed the line. So, I cut her off. I deleted contacts, stopped visiting, and acted colder on purpose. I didn't look back even at her face as she burst into tears. Because I knew that if I gave her even a single glance, I would go back. I hoped she would resent me. Because that was the only way she could survive.