"During working hours, he presents himself as a seasoned and composed security officer. His prime has passed, he is more lenient, and his ambitions and aspirations have faded with the shattering of his dreams. After work, he would head to the familiar lounge to spend the long nights, mixing drinks for himself and longtime friends. As glasses clink, those conversations flow and fizzle like foams, then instantly disappear.
He reminisces about the golden years when he yearned for freedom despite his captivity. Together, they fought against oppression, entrusting their lives to one another. They dreamed of a free land. They might die any moment, yet acted as if they already held countless wonderful tomorrows within their grasp. However, there were not enough of them to fight back. Familiar friends perished one by one. Ideals crumbled, and atrocities prevailed...
'Is that something you lived through? You... you must be kidding, right?' The guest interrupts his gloomy soliloquy.
'Of course not. How can it possibly be true?' He smiles and resumes his work.
...Gallagher is my most genuine lie. Sometimes, I can't even distinguish between him and myself.
