My Mysterious Helper

The Bridge of Fate

The city’s skyline blurred behind the pale curtain of morning mist. A cold breeze swept across the bridge, tugging at the long coat of the woman who stood still as stone, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the water below.

She didn’t belong there—not because of how she looked, but because of the calm control she wore like armor. In a place meant for broken thoughts and wavering souls, she stood like a shadow with purpose.

A figure nearby caught her attention. A man sat on the edge of the railing, shoulders hunched, fingers curled over the metal as if it was the only thing anchoring him. His coat was wrinkled and damp at the hem, the collar turned up carelessly. His eyes, distant and unfocused, didn’t notice her at first.

She took a slow step forward, heels tapping against the pavement.

“I don’t usually talk to strangers,” she said, her voice smooth and even, “but something about the way you’re sitting there—it almost begs for interruption.”

He turned his head slightly, expression unreadable. “You a cop? Therapist? Samaritan?”

“No,” she replied simply. “Just a passerby who’s good at spotting theatrics.”

That made him chuckle dryly, but there was no humor in it. “Is that what this looks like to you?”

“It looks like a man dangling at the edge of something,” she said, glancing at the river below. “But if you were really planning to jump, you wouldn’t wait for an audience.”

He raised a brow, staring at her now. “You read people like books?”

“Not always. But I know a story that’s still unfinished when I see one.”

The man said nothing. He looked away again, jaw tightening. Silence stretched between them, filled with the wind and distant hum of the city.

“You talk like you know things,” he muttered after a moment.

“I know enough to recognize someone trying to disappear in plain sight,” she said. “That watch on your wrist—it’s a luxury model, limited edition. The scuff marks on your shoes are fresh, not worn. You weren’t always like this. Whatever happened was recent.”

“Observant,” he said quietly.

“I have to be,” she replied.

A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “I’m on my way to a company... AURY Organization.”

His head shifted slightly, but he masked his reaction quickly. Too quickly.

She caught it. And yet, she didn’t press further.

“I’ve got an appointment,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Time doesn’t wait, and neither do I.”

The man looked at her again, as if trying to place her. As if her face stirred something buried under regret and exhaustion.

But she just turned away.

“Take care of yourself,” she said over her shoulder. “Or don’t. That part’s still your choice.”

And with that, she walked off, heels clicking with measured rhythm. She didn’t glance back once.

The man remained on the bridge, still staring at where she’d stood, eyes darker now—more alert.

She didn’t tell him why she was heading to AURY.