The midday sky was scorching. The sun hung directly overhead, baking the asphalt of the crowded city streets. Amid the hustle and bustle, a man staggered along the sidewalk—his face pale, his body frail. His clothes were tattered, his hair disheveled, and his eyes blank, as if he had lost all sense of direction in life.
That man was Hunter Jackson.
His steps were unsteady, like someone who had been drained of all will to live. His cheeks were hollow, his skin clammy with cold sweat. A few pedestrians turned to look at him, but not one stopped.
Hunter hadn’t eaten properly in days. A stale piece of bread yesterday, sugarless coffee for the past week, and tap water to sustain his fading strength. The man who once stood tall now looked fragile. Dark circles rimmed his red eyes—whether from
