Night had fallen.

  The streetlamps cast a faint glow over the offices of the Kanazuma company.

  Yet, within that dark building, a stubborn light still shone from one of the frames.

  Only a lamp and a screen were still glowing in one of the offices, at an hour when all the employees had already gone home.

  All, except one.

  Nerya was an employee who was constantly asked to work overtime to make up for her colleagues’ shortcomings.

  “One last one, and I can finally go home. Not even the slightest help when they’re the ones making mistakes. Bunch of drunks getting plastered while I work,” she breathed, her voice worn out.

  Despite those words, she accepted the overtime.

  With the high costs of her bills, her loan, and everything else, she needed the extra pay.

  Her husband did not work, so she had to provide for all of their needs.

  “Having to work on the day of my 23rd birthday, really… I thought becoming a mangaka in France would be easy. I messed up again,” she murmured.

  Since she was seventeen, Nerya had developed a passion for illustration.

  Giving shape to the words she read felt more natural to her than speaking.

  She had spent her time learning that art until it became her full-time profession.

  But she had not imagined it would be so hard, with deadlines to meet.

  Or rather, she had not imagined she would be the one filling in for her incompetent colleagues.

  Two hours passed before Nerya finally finished her work.

  She tapped on her phone, discovering it was already 9:30 p.m.

  “Finally. I’ll even be able to get home a bit early, on top of that. I can’t wait to slip into my bath,” she said, stretching her arms.

  She packed up her things before turning off her computer and the lamp, then headed for the elevator that took her down to the lobby and outside.

  The night was calm; only the sound of a few people talking at the bar and the engines of passing cars broke that soothing silence.

  “Haaa, I really made the right choice coming to this city. Dorlac is truly pleasant and beautiful at night!” she exclaimed, stretching again.

  A light breeze brushed her face, gently lifting her hair.

  Nerya was a woman who enjoyed simple things.

  She started walking home at a slow pace, savoring that cool autumn air.

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  “I hope he at least made me a small cake… or at least thought to buy one. I’d really like to eat a mille-feuille right now,” she thought.

  She slipped her fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear to clear her view.

  The day was finally over.

  She spent the walk humming and skipping lightly.

  For that brief moment, Nerya forgot all her worries.

  Once she arrived in front of her apartment, she opened and closed the door softly, hoping to surprise her husband.

  Everything was quiet inside the apartment.

  But a small sound caught her attention, a strange sound.

  Nerya took off her shoes before moving down the hallway toward the living room.

  She could hear what sounded like moans, along with rapid breathing, loud enough for her to notice.

  “What is he doing? You’d think he’s running a marathon!” she whispered, her voice slightly tense.

  She then approached the bedroom door, reaching her hand toward the handle.

  But she stopped her movement abruptly.

  The moans she had heard were indeed her husband’s… but another reached her ears.

  This time, they belonged to a woman.

  Nerya’s heart began to pound wildly, her trembling hands hesitating to open the door, afraid of what she was about to see.

  “It’s nothing, it can’t be that. He would never do something like that… Get a grip, Nerya,” she murmured, her voice almost imperceptible.

  She took a deep breath and then opened the door.

  But what she saw froze her instantly.

  Her husband lifted his head, multiple beads of sweat running down his cheeks.

  But what shocked Nerya the most was the other person lying beneath the sheets.

  “It’s not… possible, I… I must be dreaming. Yes, I’m dreaming, I’ll wake up soon. This can’t be real,” Nerya breathed, her voice trembling.

  The woman under the covers sat up.

  Nerya already knew her.

  That woman was her boss.

  The one she respected more than anyone, the one for whom she gave everything at work.

  And yet, she was there, in the same bed as her husband.

  “Sweetheart? What are you doing here? You told me you’d be home in an hour,” her husband said, surprised, his breathing uneven.

  But Nerya did not answer.

  Tears welled up in her eyes without her being able to stop them.

  Her world collapsed into total darkness.

  Her legs shaking, she stepped back and ran toward the entrance.

  She put her shoes back on, opened the door, and left, not giving her husband time to catch up.

  She ran for several minutes without knowing where she was going.

  Nothing existed around her anymore.

  Short of breath, muscles tense, she finally stopped, her tears flowing in an endless stream.

  “Why? What did I… do… wrong?” she asked herself.

  The images replayed over and over in her mind, like a film she did not want to see, yet which restarted endlessly, giving her no respite.

  She eventually fell to her knees, the pain in her chest twisting her in agony, as if her heart were trying to escape to stop suffering.

  “I gave him everything. I supported him when he lost his job, I took everything on myself so he wouldn’t fall apart. And this is how he thanks me? Him, and her too?” she breathed.

  She slowly got back up, using the railing beside her for support.

  Once standing, she looked around to see where she was.

  A small sign nearby indicated: Pont de Clairombre.

  Nerya lowered her gaze.

  Below, there was only a vast stretch of dark asphalt.

  “Why keep going? I gave everything, I pushed myself to the limit until I barely had a life anymore. I was always smiling, I helped people… and this is all I get in return?” she said, her voice soft.

  She stepped over the barrier, then turned back, her gaze lost in the void.

  But she hesitated.

  She did not want to die.

  She was not the one at fault.

  So why should she be the one to end it all?

  “Ma’am? Is everything alright? That’s dangerous, you should come back to the other side,” said a man’s voice, slightly panicked.

  Nerya flinched at the sound and gripped the railing more firmly with one hand, then turned her head toward the man.

  Her hair whipped in the breeze, and she brushed it aside to see him better.

  “You shouldn’t do this. Do you want help?” the man asked.

  Nerya could not bring herself to answer him.

  But she did not want to jump either.

  She was slowly realizing that this act was absurd.

  She lifted her head for a moment, as if searching for an answer.

  As if the stars, softly shimmering in the sky, could come to her aid.

  She turned her head back toward the man, seeing the worry etched on his face at the sight before him.

  “I… I’m fine. I just needed a moment to pull myself together, thank you,” she finally replied.

  Nerya released the railing with one hand to turn and return to safety.

  But as she pivoted, her grip — made slick by sweat and stress — gave way.

  Her body tipped slowly, as if time itself had frozen around her.

  “Now… at least I have my answer,” she whispered as she fell.

  The man on the bridge, seeing her hand slip, rushed forward to grab her.

  But it was too late.

  Nerya was falling into the void, her tears rising into the air, as if they too wished to escape that pain.

  With one final breath, she closed her eyes and surrendered to death.

  “At least, I won’t have to suffer anymore now,” she said in a low, gentle voice.

  A dull impact.

  A sensation of warmth.

  A searing pain seized her, before darkness covered her completely.

  Her mind went out with a final breath, her chest rising one last time.