The dim light of dawn began to filter through the small gaps in the curtains, slowly shining down on the small room where the young boy was sleeping.
The space was quiet, with only the steady ticking of the clock echoing like the silent breath of time.
The old bed, with a thin faded blanket and an old pillow, reflected the simple, peaceful life of a young boy.
The familiar alarm clock rang, breaking the silence, but the boy was in no hurry to wake up.
He lay there, his eyes slowly opening and staring longingly at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling like a stormy sea.
He felt that his life was a long series of days struggling with himself, with loneliness and a feeling of being lost.
Those were lonely moments in the small room, surrounded by only basic items and basic furniture.
He slowly sat up, feeling the coldness of the wooden floor on his bare feet.
He got out of the warm bed and took light steps, looking around his room.
The plain white walls, decorated with his own hand-painted pictures - scenes of angels flying in the bright light of dawn or sparkling under the magical moonlight - seemed to be the only source of comfort for his lost soul.
The small wooden table was filled with detailed drawings, specialized assembly tools and unfinished angel models.
He slowly walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower and let the cold water wash away the dust and fatigue on his body.
The water rushed over his skin, bringing him a sense of calm and clarity.
Then he looked into the mirror and saw a thin face with jet-black hair reflected in the mirror, with clear but deep eyes and a cold face, this was Ventair Kirizato.
He grew up in a cold orphanage.
He had no parents, no siblings.
The only memories of his childhood were of lonely days, living on the kindness of strangers, frugal meals and long lonely nights.
Although he sometimes interacted with people in the camp, those around him.
He still felt lost and lonely.
In that monotonous world, he once went to the camp library and accidentally found old tattered books about mythology and religion.
He read them curiously and was attracted to those stories about angels.
The stories about angels with pure white wings, supernatural beauty and absolute loyalty took over his mind.
Then the story about angels was no longer just a hobby, it began to become a strange passion, a source of motivation for him to persevere through the harshest challenges of life, helping him to continue living and not feel bored.
Then, after 23 years of persistent study, Ventair made constant efforts, overcoming all difficulties to graduate from university with honors.
He then found a job at a model design company - a place that seemed like a simple job to make a living, but was an opportunity for him to satisfy his burning passion for sophisticated and elaborate angel models.
He could spend hours researching documents, examining detailed drawings of wing structures, body proportions and angel facial expressions to create the most realistic models.
Although life was still difficult and his income was not abundant, his small apartment with a few modest items was still his only home, where he could temporarily forget the chaotic and boring world out there.
Ventair's breakfast was usually very simple, just a slice of bread and a cup of bitter black coffee, enough to wake up his mind and start a new tiring working day.
He wore a neat and tidy business suit, putting on a professional appearance, preparing to step out.
Looking around the room, on the glass cabinets and shelves were pictures, models of angels.
He looked at each pair of meticulously cared-for white wings, each delicate carving carried a deep meaning - a symbol of flawless purity.
Each model was a part of his soul, a part of his dream.
He whispered softly to those models, his warm words carrying hope.
"When can you fly far away, take me to another world, where I can truly belong?"
That sentence, although just a lonely whisper in the empty room, contained all the most burning desires in his soul.
He left his room, locked the door, sighed and started going to work.
On the way to work, Ventair walked through crowded streets, where modern life swirled endlessly with the sound of honking cars, loud laughter and bright lights from flashing billboards.
The urban air was heavy with dust and haste.
Among the bustling crowd, each with their own appearance and purpose, he was like a quiet spot, a faint figure, his eyes distant and thoughtful as if living in a separate world, separated from the hustle and bustle of reality.
He felt like an outsider, a lost soul in the sea of people, not belonging anywhere, not having any real ties with anyone.
Sometimes he wondered, was he really living or simply existing, like a faint, invisible shadow in this turbulent and bustling life?
Everyone around him seemed to have a purpose, a place to go, someone to meet, but he did not.
After arriving at the company, he greeted a few colleagues with an emotionless tone and a cold face.
Someone saw him and whispered to the partner next to him:
"Hey, do you think this guy is a strange person? Since he joined the company, he has always been cold and friendly with everyone. I have never heard of him having a girlfriend or close friends, and I don't know why he can work here."
The other person replied: "I also think he is a strange person, but let's put that aside and the reason he can work here is that I heard that the models he made are quite famous and loved by many people, so the company's recruiters directly invited him to work."
"Huh!!? Is he that good?"
"That's right, but there's one strange thing… He only made models of angels before and after coming here, but those models all looked so real that it gave people the feeling of meeting a real angel."
As Ventair continued walking, he would occasionally hear such gossip, but he ignored it and continued to his work place.
Once he sat down at his work place, he started to turn on his computer and took out the modeling components and started to design and create his favorite angel model.
His talented hands turned the inanimate pieces into exquisite works of art.
He had the ability to see the smallest details that others overlooked, and his meticulousness was second to none.
He could spend hours perfecting a pair of angel wings, finding joy and peace only in such meticulous, highly focused work.
For him, it was not just a job, but a connection, a whisper to the creatures he loved more than anything.
Day after day, Ventair's life continued to go on as usual, but deep inside, he continued to search for the true meaning of his life — not just mindless designs or models, but something beyond reality.
He longed to be freed from the loneliness, from the feeling of being lost that had haunted him for so many years.
When the night fell, it was dyed a brilliant red-orange and gradually sank into deep darkness, swallowing the last rays of sunset.
When everyone had gone home, he cleaned up and started to leave.
Then he left the company, he walked through the quieter streets, the warm yellow lights filtering through the trees and the misty road, creating a quiet scene, a feeling of loneliness all around.
Tired after a long day of work, he looked up at the deep night sky, where the stars were twinkling, distant and mysterious, he made a prayer, a vow he knew was impossible to come true:
"I really want one day, I will find them — the real angels"
His footsteps stopped at the deserted intersection, where the street lights were dim and the cars were passing by.
The traffic light had just turned green for pedestrians, Ventair walked slowly, his heart filled with thoughts.
He was imagining a new angel model, with more sophisticatedly designed wings, with feathers as soft as clouds.
Suddenly, a deafening, terrifying screech of tires tore through the quiet space, a fierce, piercing and sudden sound, like a terrible omen from hell, a warning from death.
A truck lost control, rushing straight towards him from somewhere at a terrifying speed, like an unstoppable steel monster.
Its blinding headlights shone straight into his eyes, turning everything around him into a white screen, leaving him no time to react.
His body seemed to freeze in place, unable to move even an inch.
Time seemed to stop in that terrifying moment, all the surrounding sounds seemed to disappear, leaving only the violent, frantic beating in his chest, and the sound of the wind whistling past his ears.
Ventair could only look up, his eyes wide with surprise but also a strange acceptance.
In the last moment of his life, before darkness swallowed everything, his mind did not think of fear or regret for his short life, not about the boring job or the monotonous life. Instead, a single image emerged clearly, shining like a divine halo: the truck's bright headlights were like an Angel with giant white wings, spreading her arms as if to embrace him, her eyes filled with love, kindness, an unimaginable beauty.
It was a symbol of everything he believed in, desired, and loved, the passion that had shaped his entire life, since he was an orphan.
He whispered regretfully:
"Ahh... Angels... they are so beautiful... I wish I could meet them..."
Then the collision happened, the sound was strong, dry like the sound of fate closing a door forever, unable to return.
The sound was deafening, terrifying and brutal, tearing the night and the quiet air apart.
The head-on collision hit him without any mercy.
Crimson blood soaked the cold, patchy and gloomy pavement, forming a bright red pool under the dim streetlights, coloring Ventair's dream that had not yet begun, his life.
In the last moments of consciousness, when all his senses were fading away, he saw a bright light shining on him, as white as the wings of an angel and as white as their souls – a color of life, a symbol of purity.
And he lost consciousness.
"Oh my God! Someone was hit by a car! Call an ambulance!"
A man nearby rushed over in panic, hurriedly took out his cell phone and shakily dialed the number for help.
His voice was anxious, mixed with the panicked screams of a few passersby.
Another person, approaching Ventair, gently shook his shoulder, trying to call:
"Can you hear me? Hey, wake up! Wake up!"
His voice was full of anxiety and despair.
But Ventair remained motionless, his face strangely calm, his eyes closed.
The ambulance siren sounded from afar, getting faster and faster, tearing apart the night, dispelling the crowd blocking the road.
Two police cars also quickly appeared, their red and blue lights flashing continuously, blocking off the scene, setting up a barricade.
Medical staff and doctors rushed to the scene with full emergency equipment, their eyes filled with urgency.
They immediately checked Ventair's condition quickly and professionally.
A doctor looked at his vital signs seriously, then turned to his colleague, his voice filled with regret:
"The condition is very critical... the pulse is very weak, almost gone... We need to transfer him to the hospital immediately!"
But then when he put Ventair in the car. The doctor sighed regretfully.
"We... may have lost him..."
Then the car sped away.
Everyone stood silently watching the ambulance rush away in the bright red lights, the siren wailing mournfully in the night, dragging a life that had just been extinguished.
But, that was not the end.