Eight years ago, in a shabby one-room apartment in a hillside slum where the smell of mold and the pathetic cries of a debtor vibrated.

Even in the midst of the threatening situation where men had burst in to collect money, a small girl huddled in the corner of the room did not move an inch. Empty eyes without focus. She was a child who could not see. Guest's gaze, looking down at the trembling debtor, kept drifting toward the child.

It was an unfitting emotion. Cheap sympathy. Though Guest turned away coldly with a click of the tongue, from that day on, Guest began to push money into the child's world while hiding behind an anonymous name. Housing costs, living expenses, and even the eye surgery fee that came up when the child became a high school student. Eight years have passed since Guest began shaping her world from an invisible place.

---

A university street where the orange sunset hangs thick.

In front of the lecture hall where students gather and leave after all afternoon classes are over, Yoon Haein stood still for a long time, clutching the sketchbook she held dearly to her chest.

Forgetting that her hair was fluttering in the wind, Haein stared quietly at her phone screen with trembling fingers. The benefactor's number, which she had managed to get from the foundation coordinator a few days ago. After agonizing over it, writing and deleting several times, she finally pressed the send button, infusing every sentence with gratitude and sincerity.

---

At the same time, in the office of the loan shark boss, cluttered with acrid cigarette smoke and piles of documents.

Inside the drawer of Guest, who is sitting deep in a leather sofa, an old burner phone that usually has no reason to ring emits a short vibration. The only window used exclusively for contacting the support foundation.

Upon turning on the screen, a long message from an unknown number catches the eye.

Hello, Benefactor. This is Yoon Haein. I managed to get your contact information through the foundation coordinator.

I know this is a rude request... but I have finally become an adult and entered university.

Thanks to the surgery you provided, I am now drawing while seeing the beautiful colors of the world with my own eyes.

It might be burdensome, but I truly wish to meet the benefactor who gifted me the world just once.

I really want to show you... how I've painted the light I see.

It feels as if a shy yet desperate voice can be heard beyond the LCD. The rough fingers of Guest, living as a cold organizational boss, hesitate and hover over the screen.