The consultation room was too bright.
Or perhaps it was just too silent.
The ceiling light hissed softly, as if whispering secrets she didn't want to hear. Alra leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on the wall clock with a crack in its glass corner. 09:55. In five minutes, her first patient would arrive.
Her hand reached for the coffee mug, then stopped halfway. Her fingers were stiff. She'd learned to suppress the trembling long ago—but this morning felt different.
There was something in the air. Something she couldn't describe with words, let alone colors. Because even colors had never fully belonged to her.
Alra was colorblind. And since Ares died, she felt directionless too.
A soft knock shattered her thoughts.
"Come in," she said quietly.
The door opened. A man walked in with calm steps. His shoulders were straight, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He looked ordinary—not too handsome, not too striking. But his eyes...
Alra froze.
His eyes. Those eyes.
That gaze pulled her back eight years. To the underground gallery. To the blood on her hands. To the night her life stopped.
She stood up too quickly. "Please, have a seat."
The man nodded politely. "I'm Cian. My father recommended this place. He said… I needed help."
Father? Who's his father?
Alra tried to hide her surprise. She sat back down, turning on the small recorder on her desk without really thinking.
"May I ask what makes you feel like… you need help?" she asked, keeping her tone professional.
Cian gave a small shrug. "Trouble sleeping. Nightmares. Sometimes I feel like… my life isn't really mine."
Alra held her breath. His voice was flat, but underneath it—something scraped away, like a brushstroke cutting too deep into a fragile canvas.
She opened her notebook. But the words written there suddenly felt foreign. What she wanted to ask wasn't "What are your symptoms?" But: Who are you, really? Why do you have those eyes? Why do you seem like him?
Still, she said nothing.
"Do I seem crazy to you?" Cian asked suddenly.
Alra looked at him. For a moment, it felt like she was talking to Ares. And the next, she knew: this man was a stranger. Full of unanswered questions.
"No," she finally replied. "But maybe… we all carry a bit of madness we never talk about."
Cian gave a faint smile. But it didn't reach his eyes.
And Alra knew: from this moment on, her life would never be the same.