When the reddish-brown leaves fell from the branches, all that could be seen in the view were red, almost black grains, pouring down from a hole that had lost its shape due to its dark color. When the twilight sky is the icon of the season, all that can be felt is the humidity, like living in a deep abyss without ever being illuminated by the sun.

Unfortunately, the scene rotates without color, not completely when black and white are considered as 'colors'.

His hand reached for the window pane, his whereabouts were a bit unclear, blurring so that the five-pointed leaf he couldn't reach.

Even though it was appropriate, the simple reason was that he was behind the glass, while the leaf fell out of place.

Like the wind blowing his blonde strands, he slowly closed his eyes, feeling the spoiled embrace of the burly arms that had been with him since the first season.

The year started so badly for him. The loss of his brother due to suicide by dropping himself off the bridge, then followed by the capture of his eldest brother and put in prison for who knows how long without being able to visit him for a minute.

Is destiny satisfied? Not yet.

He had to bear the burden of his two brothers. Become the new head of the family under societal pressure for what happened before. Jobs that involve the military of a country, not the business they run. His military superiors are good, in quotes submit all important documents so that he often forgets there is such a thing as 'eating' and 'sleeping'. His business was not far from bad, everything slumped until he felt he was running a new business with nothing in it.

But hey, he had a lot of wealth and his business, fortunately, wasn't related to debt, so he could sigh for once.

Day and night, ignorant of the changing moon, enjoying the fresh breeze, what he got was a meeting full of cigarette smoke from high-collared men.

The teapot is now replaced with a bitter cup of coffee. It was a strange taste when compared to the characteristic warm fragrance of the light brown liquid he had liked with his second brother. The clock began to repeat its rotation towards number one, it was morning but he had not moved from his desk in a dark room lit only by the moonlight.

The ink streaks no longer made a scratching sound, only one or two nocturnal beasts flaunted their presence. He did not pay attention to anyone around him, he was sick of the meeting. I don't know when the hatred started, what is clear is that there is hope from him that his gaze does not meet the crowd.

The yellowish parchment was finished with ink strokes, he sighed as he leaned back in his chair. The quill is removed regardless of the ink remaining on the tip. His muscles were pulled asking for blood to flow again smoothly. The hour hand slowly touched the number four, it was useless to sleep because in three hours the activities would start again.

The chair was pushed slowly, he turned around to meet the window which greeted him with a glistening rather cloudy night sky. He put his hand to touch the dew there, closed the pomegranate beads then sighed.

When he opened his eyes, the maple leaves had fallen, reminding him that it was just a memory of the peaceful atmosphere of the beginning of the year. Now he was standing at the end of the round.

He remembered what happened after the umpteenth dawn appeared before him. Many tragedies have not been passed through. The war is still ongoing, not yet with the crimes of the citizens. With him as a civil servant, of course, he must intervene, in quotes to do everything possible to clean up the red ink in people's lives.

When he turned around again, only the scattered strands of bodies could be seen. No more documents or ink. Eradicating the terrorists who would attack the Queen was the order. Armed with a rusty kitchen knife he found, he did not expect this to be such a powerful stress reliever.

Scotland Yard sirens buzzed. Uniformed men came in, securing every part of the criminal's body, ignoring him. Well, maybe for one of their commanders.

"Fierce as usual, Louis? But I think you're a bit too much this time," the smoke came out after a puff. Behind his accompanying square glasses, Patterson caught the odd smile of his co-worker.

Taking off his bloodstained coat, Louis reached for the clean towel that was handed to him, "Sometimes I need a distraction. This way the court won't have much work to do."

"Looks like I have to say 'thank you for your hard work', eh?"

"It's up to you."

His feet stepped out without wearing the dirty coat. The dark purple scarf was coiled, the breeze blowing back at him. The neighborhood trail wasn't too densely populated, so the task had just been completed without any problems.

As he entered the center of the city, his eyes went straight to one of the bustling bookstores. There is a small tent built nearby, featuring a tall man with a distinctive smile welcoming his fans at the fan meeting. A novelist who recently became famous for his thrilling works full of action and mystery.

One thing that Louis didn't think was that now the brown bead could capture his silhouette in the crowd.

Deftly, and without looking impudent, the author completed his obligation to sign and give a handshake to the fans who came, not forgetting to say a few words before leaving the stage.

"Mr. Louis! You're coming? Ahaha, I didn't expect to get a visit from a character that I put in my writing directly like this. How about it? Let's have some tea first, I know a suitable place."

That's right, he's one of the many characters, cast in the storybook drama of the fall-beaded man. The record of sin, crime, and all things that more than mean have this man put in his sentence. And ironically, the people who read it despise 'him' so much that they forget he is 'now' part of a security organization that saves citizens.

That's why destiny loves to child-step him.

Their journey was filled with falling red and orange leaves, in perfect harmony with his eyes and the person beside him.

No one knows if in their view it's not like that color.

The person he used to hate for being so innocent was eaten by other people's scapegoats, and the heroic figure wanted to stop him as a criminal. That fateful thing that's too common to hear now? He fell in love with this man's kindness. The kindness he used to berate now bears karma for him. And social sanctions? They, or at least he, would be condemned to death.

"Mr. Louis?"

"I'm sorry I can't join you for tea. Maybe next time," Louis should have known that there would be a sad gaze directed at him.

"It's all right, Mr. Louis. I understand that I shouldn't, the one who caused your brother's murder, call you out like there was no sin—"

"Did I forget to mention, if before this year, autumn is the beginning for me, the beginning for the downfall of my life, and the end of the curve that I should have unraveled when entering the season of my birth," he interrupted without any meaning, really. "I lost my sight, and the world spinning in black and white now."

But that person seems to think otherwise.

Both let people walk by. No words were spoken like at the last funeral. They seem to match when paired with silence. Like their relationship is too silent without any statement.

"To you autumn may be the end of the year cycle, but to me, it's all a welcome greeting to a tragedy."

To them, it's just black and white footage, despite their colorful outfits. Likewise, maple leaves that fall will only be captured in black and white, maybe in gray on camera. Likewise, with those who can only look at all of this in memories, the photos in their minds may no longer be black and white but without color.

They both know, when a maple leaf falls, there will be a pawn in a chess piece that will end their humanity. Like fate that separated them from their loved ones, and as they are currently walking, parting in the opposite direction, waiting for the sad news of the next tragedy that had been specially prepared for both of them.