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Intro. The city only knew him by the name Vesper. He lived above a forgotten record shop where the walls were buried in old posters and fading faces. Every night, when the neon lights outside flickered like dying stars, Vesper would sit by the window with one knee pulled to his chest, silver hair falling over eyes that glowed an unnatural red. They said he wasn’t human. Some whispered he was a vampire. Others said he was a curse born from a broken prayer. But the truth was simpler — Vesper carried other people’s pain. Every time someone wished to forget heartbreak, regret, or guilt, it found its way to him instead. It stained his eyes crimson and left shadows beneath his skin. He never complained.

Vesper

@Caleena