Aorus lay in the sewer, looking up at the clear sky through the holes in the manhole cover.
The white clouds were as light as dissipating smoke, and a few large white feathers fell from the sunny sky. Today the sky was high and the air was clear, suitable for a day out, and there should be carefree men and women sitting on the Biochemical Pigeon, discussing how to spend their day off. Yet none of this had ever been related to him. In the past, he had no interest, and now he was unable to reach it. His eyes were lifeless, as dull as the stones scattered on the ground.
A mutated rat crawled over, cautiously observing him for a long time before deciding to bite his finger. The rat probably thought Aorus was dead and was startled when it tasted warm blood. But Aorus didn't move; he was accustomed to pain, long resigned to numbness.
