Chapter 73

In the midst of metropolitan New York's busy urban chaos, Trevor's presence stood out as an odd figure moving among the masses. He had no clear direction, and his route was more determined by the chaotic alignment of his stumbling feet. On his lips, a cigarette dangled perilously, its flame a flickering ember against the darkness of his hunched face. On the one hand, a rum bottle swung like a pendulum, releasing a pungent scent that mingled with the din of the city.

Pedestrians became inadvertent players in his tipsy dance, bumping with his unstable body, their rushed gazes emitting a mixture of anger and disdain. They cursed beneath their breath as they avoided his unpredictable path.

"You're a good-for-nothing, you fucking drunkard!" "Get lost, you filthy j****e!"

Their mocking words established an imaginary barrier around him, one he paid little attention to. The insults were hardly audible in the midst of his mental storm.