The night was quiet, the air still, and the sky stretched vast and clear above me, speckled with countless stars. A waning moon, less than half full, cast a faint glow that barely illuminated my surroundings. The dim streetlights along the road provided some clarity, their flickering glow painting soft pools of light on the asphalt.
Everything around me was familiar—the residential district, where houses stood at intervals. The roads, like always, were empty except for the occasional car or motorbike passing by, their headlights cutting through the night before vanishing into the distance.
I walked along the footpath, the cool night air brushing against my skin, my right cheek still throbbing slightly from what had happened just moments ago. But despite the late hour, I wasn't heading toward home. In fact, I had just left. And now, I wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go next.
The stillness of the night did little to quiet the thoughts circling in my mind.
The whole thing had started with a disagreement—or at least, that was the closest word to describe it. Though calling it a disagreement implied there had been an actual argument, when in reality, it had been completely one-sided. I hadn't fought back, hadn't even spoken, because there had been no real reason for it to begin with. It felt like they had just needed someone to take their frustration out on, and I happened to be the easiest target.
In situations like this, there were always two choices: argue back and feed the fire, giving them the justification they were looking for to turn things into a real fight, or stay silent, let their words flow in one ear and out the other, and wait for it to pass.
The latter had always been my choice. Sure, it wasn't pleasant—loud voices could grate on my ears, and the whole thing was undeniably tedious—but it was manageable.
Except this time, the fire hadn't died down.
A fist had connected with my face, unexpected but not entirely surprising. And then, without another word, I had been thrown out.
I frowned—not because I was upset, angry, or even hurt. No, something as trivial as this wasn't enough to shake my composure. Rather, it was the realization of my situation that made me pause. At this late hour, I had nowhere to go. And perhaps worse, I might have just lost the place I had started to call home.
With a quiet sigh, I pulled out my phone and pressed the power button. The small screen lit up, casting a faint glow on my hands. The first thing I saw was the time.
10:40 P.M.
It was late.
I didn't have many options, and the first person who came to mind was Sugar—my sister.
But she lived about seven kilometers away.
I mulled over the thought. There was almost no chance of finding a taxi around here at this hour, which meant I'd have to walk at least three kilometers to reach the capital city and find transportation. That wasn't an appealing option, but neither was standing around all night.
I should call her.
Bringing up my contacts, I scrolled through the list, the repetitive clicking sound filling the silence. Her name, Sugar, sat sixth on the list as always, my thumb hovering over it.
And yet, I hesitated.
If I called her, I'd have to explain everything. First, a quick summary. Then, once I arrived, a more detailed breakdown. The last thing I wanted was to go through it all again—reliving the events, discussing them, giving them more weight than they deserved.
I considered another option: renting a room for the night. But the nearest hotel was also in the capital city, which meant I'd still have to walk the three kilometers to get there. And once I did, I'd have to pay for an overpriced room, draining what little money I had left.
The thought alone made me grimace.
That left only a few choices: Sugar's place, sleeping in a public garden, or finding some other spot to rest until morning. The latter options weren't terrible, but they carried their own risks—getting robbed or, worse, being questioned by the night patrols.
Nope.
With a sigh, I made up my mind and pressed the call button.
The phone rang.
Once. Twice. Three times.
I frowned, wondering if she was already asleep.
Then, finally, the ringing stopped.
A soft, sleepy voice answered, immediately followed by a huge yawn.
"Haaah… Hello."
Just as I had expected, she had been asleep.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, I hesitated before speaking. "Hey, sorry for calling you this late, Sug."
"It's fine," she mumbled, still sounding drowsy. "You don't usually call around this time. Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "About that…"
I gave her a brief rundown of what had happened.
There was a pause.
Then, all traces of sleep vanished from her voice. "He did what?!" she nearly shouted, now fully awake. Concern laced her words, her tone sharper than before. "Where was Dad—wait, where are you right now?"
I let out a dry chuckle. "On the road, I guess."
"Hey, have you eaten anything?"
Dinner had been interrupted before I could eat. But telling her that would only make her worry more, and I didn't want that.
So instead, I lied.
"I had some dinner."
She fell silent for a moment, and for a brief second, I wondered if the call had disconnected. But then, her voice came through again, soft yet firm, laced with concern.
"Hey, don't worry. Just come to my place, okay? We'll talk when you get here."
There was no hesitation in her words—just an unspoken promise of safety.
"Okay—"
Just as I was responding, I noticed movement ahead. A taxi had just passed me and rolled to a stop a short distance away, pulling up near a house. Its headlights cast a yellow glow against the pavement, momentarily cutting through the dimness of the quiet street. Someone was getting out.
Hm? Now that's rare.
Taxis were uncommon around here at this hour.
"Ri, Mom or Melissa were there too, right? Didn't they try to stop—"
Sugar's voice carried through the phone, but my attention was already elsewhere.
"Sis, wait a moment," I interrupted, taking a few steps forward.
"What?" she asked, confusion evident in her tone.
The taxi's passenger—a man dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks—had just stepped out, his attire screaming office worker. He didn't acknowledge me, instead adjusting his bag strap and making his way toward the house, clearly uninterested in anything happening around him.
I was still a bit of a distance away, but I raised my voice slightly. "Sorry, but can you stop it for me?"
The driver, having just started to shift into gear, hesitated. My voice must have caught his attention because he leaned forward, peeking in my direction through the windshield. The office worker, on the other hand, barely glanced my way before continuing on, uninterested.
I quickly gestured to the driver, signaling for him to wait.
Sugar's voice came through the phone again, still puzzled. "You talking to someone?"
"Yeah, a taxi just stopped in front of me," I muttered, keeping my eyes on the driver to make sure he didn't decide to drive off.
"Oh, that's good." Relief seeped into her tone, but there was still an edge of concern. "Then I'll wait for you, okay?"
"Okay. Sorry for disturbing you this late."
I really did feel a little bad for waking her up.
She only responded with a soft, thoughtful hum before the call ended.
Lowering my phone and slipping it back into my pocket, I approached the taxi.
The driver, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, glanced at me, his gaze briefly shifting to my face—specifically, the right side where the dull pain from earlier still lingered. His confusion was evident.
"Hello, sir, would you like to go somewhere?" he asked, his tone polite but curious.
Why else would I approach you if not to go somewhere?
"...Yeah, so—"
~
A few moments later, I sat inside the taxi as it moved through the silent streets. The roads remained as empty and lonely as before, the dim streetlights casting long shadows against the pavement. But as we drove further, the scenery began to shift.
On my left, the familiar houses of the residential district continued, their windows dark, their silhouettes blending into the night. But on my right, the scenery had shifted. The riverbank ran parallel to the road, its still waters reflecting the faint shimmer of distant stars. The soft glow of the less-than-half, smiling moon danced upon the surface, its eerie grin making me wonder if it was laughing at me on purpose.
Beyond the river, the capital city glowed a restless pulse against the stillness of this side. Unlike this side of the river, where silence reigned, the city pulsed with life—a stark contrast to the lonely, muted world surrounding me.
A cool breeze slipped through the slightly open window, carrying the crisp scent of water and damp earth. It was sharp against my skin, refreshing yet strangely hollow, as though the air itself was whispering something I couldn't quite catch.
I leaned back into the seat, letting my gaze follow the distant cityscape as it inched closer with every passing second.
Then, movement flickered in the rearview mirror.
A faint glow—a pair of headlights, maybe—accompanied by the barely audible sound of something approaching from behind.
Another vehicle?
I barely gave it a second thought, shifting my focus back to the road ahead. The taxi was now just a few hundred meters from the metallic bridge—the single link between this hushed, empty world and the restless city beyond.
That's when I noticed it.
A figure stood at the bridge's entrance, motionless, their silhouette barely distinguishable against the night's thick veil. Cloaked in black, they faced our direction, unmoving.
My brows furrowed slightly as I tried to make out more details through the dim light.
"Isn't it a bit late to be wandering around?" I murmured to myself.
The irony struck me almost immediately—I would've been doing the same if I hadn't found this taxi.
Despite my quiet voice, the driver seemed to hear me.
"Who?" His voice carried genuine confusion, his eyes flickering between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.
The sound of the vehicle behind us had grown louder, its headlights now casting long shadows from behind.
The driver sighed, almost as if scolding someone.
"At least give a horn," he muttered, more to himself than me.
With a slow turn of the wheel, he guided the taxi toward the edge of the road, clearing the lane for whatever was approaching.
Then, glancing back at me, he pressed, "So, what were you saying, sir?"
He didn't forget that?
"Yeah, about that person in front—"
Leaning forward slightly, I pointed past his seat toward the dark silhouette. They remained eerily still, just beyond the bridge's entrance, the black fabric of their robe blending into the shadows.
But before I could get another word out—
A sudden explosion of light erupted from behind.
Brilliant, blinding—so intense it swallowed the taxi's dim interior in an instant.
Then came the sound.
A roar.
Not just an engine—a beast unleashed. The deep, guttural snarl of raw power surged through the night, shaking the air, rattling my ribs.
"Shit."
The driver's voice, sharp with confusion.
The wheel spun beneath his grip.
Then—impact.
An unseen force wrenched me backward, my body slamming into the seat. The jarring pain barely registered before something even harder struck—my skull cracking against the glass.
A burst of white noise filled my head, a disorienting fog swallowing my thoughts.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
My vision wavered.
My limbs felt weightless, useless—no control, no sense of direction.
Through the chaos, I vaguely made out the driver wrestling with the wheel, his knuckles white, his arms jerking against the taxi's wild lurches.
But I wasn't in control of anything—not even myself. My body twisted and jerked with the violent movements, no more than a ragdoll tossed in a storm.
Then—another impact.
Even harder.
A force slammed into us from behind, an unstoppable hand gripping me and yanking me deeper into the crash.
My senses, already fraying, unraveled completely.
Darkness surged forward, relentless.
My body was thrown sideways, crashing against the taxi door.
And just before everything slipped away, I felt it—the cold metal against my shoulder, the last tether to reality before the void took over.
~
It was eerily quiet.
I was conscious, but something felt off.
My senses were sluggish, my body felt wrong.
Was I still asleep?
But if so, why did my bed feel so… different?
The unsettling sensation gnawed at the edges of my awareness, and after a brief hesitation, I finally opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was the sky—an endless, dark expanse speckled with glimmering stars. The moon hung above, a waning crescent, its pale glow barely enough to pierce the thick darkness. What little illumination there was came from behind me, likely from the streetlights lining the road, but even their dim glow did little to push back the night.
Something about my posture felt unnatural. My body was angled, sloping downward from my head to my legs, and the ground beneath me was oddly soft.
As I shifted my gaze, the texture registered—I was lying on grass.
The moment I took in my surroundings, familiarity struck.
A riverbank stretched out before me, running parallel to the road. A short distance away stood a bridge I knew well—the one I crossed nearly every day.
It spanned the wide, gently flowing river that separated the general residential area from the capital city of Liac.
On my side, the residential district sat in near-total darkness, its scattered houses barely visible against the gloom. In stark contrast, across the river, the capital shimmered—a collection of towering buildings bathed in artificial light, glowing like a distant beacon. The difference between the two places felt almost intentional, like the land itself was making a statement about the divide between its people.
But that wasn't what mattered right now.
The real issue was—why was I here?
A dull, persistent ache throbbed in my head as I tried to recall what had happened, but my memories were a fragmented mess. No matter how hard I reached for them, nothing from the past few hours surfaced.
I exhaled sharply, pushing past the discomfort and attempting to sit up. That's when I realized something was wrong.
I couldn't move.
It wasn't just weakness. My entire body refused to respond. A strange, terrifying numbness spread from my neck down, like my limbs had been swallowed by the night itself.
I wasn't just exhausted—I was paralyzed.
The only things I could control were the muscles in my face. I could blink, shift my eyes, move my lips… but beyond that, nothing.
What the...
A slow, creeping unease curled around my chest. My heartbeat quickened slightly, the unfamiliarity of the situation gnawing at my thoughts. Why couldn't I move? What had happened to me?
I forced myself to take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to push down the rising panic. Panicking wouldn't solve anything. I needed to think. If I could just stay calm and analyze the situation, maybe I could figure something out—
The streetlights flickered.
Guhh… not now.
Before I could process anything further, I heard something.
Footsteps.
A steady rhythm of shoes against concrete, approaching from the road above me. Slow, deliberate, unhurried.
I felt a small wave of relief. Someone was here.
"Hey! Can you help me?" I called out, my voice breaking through the silence. "For some reason, I can't move. Haha, it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. Could you call an ambulance for me?"
No response.
The footsteps didn't falter, didn't hesitate. They just kept coming—until they stopped.
Right in front of me.
Now that they were closer, I could make out a silhouette—a man clad in a long, heavy robe, its dark fabric pooling around him like a shadow. His face was pale, unnervingly so, framed by light brown, well-trimmed facial hair. His features were strikingly human, yet something about them felt… off. Not unnatural, but not entirely right either.
His light brown eyes locked onto me, emotionless and unreadable.
An uncomfortable prickle ran down my spine. Something about his presence—about the way he just stood there, silent—set off an instinctive unease. He didn't look particularly dangerous, and yet…
I swallowed, trying again. "Hey! Can you hear me? I can't move, man. Could you—"
Still nothing.
Then, he moved.
His hand reached toward me—not in a way that suggested he was about to help me up, but with slow, deliberate intent.
A strange tension settled in my chest.
"H–hey?"
I expected him to shake me, to try and wake me up, maybe even pat my pockets like some desperate mugger. But instead, his rough, sandpaper-like fingers grazed my face.
The touch was unsettling—neither warm nor cold, just… there. A foreign, unwanted presence against my skin.
"What… what are you doing?" My voice wavered slightly.
His fingers pressed firmer against my cheek, tracing the contours of my face before suddenly gripping my chin, tilting my head upward.
I stiffened internally, my breath catching.
"Hey! Ow! That's—ugh—uncomfortable! Can you move your hands, please?"
I couldn't recoil, couldn't fight back. The paralysis rendered me completely helpless.
Then, something strange happened.
His eyes.
For a split second, I thought my throbbing head was playing tricks on me. But as I stared at him, I saw it—his brownish irises subtly shifting, deepening into a reddish hue.
My heartbeat stuttered.
Huh?
A nervous chuckle slipped from my lips. "S-sorry, I—I, uh… don't swing that way."
I was rambling, speaking nonsense just to fill the silence. But he didn't react. He simply stood there, gripping my chin, those shifting eyes locked onto me.
Then, at last, he spoke.
His voice was deep, steady—chillingly calm.
"Hmm… I can't judge you. Your soul—it's impure. How is that even possible?"
His blank expression finally showed something—confusion.
I blinked.
What?
Did I hear that right?
Oh, he's definitely drunk.
Of all the things I expected this guy to say, that was not one of them. His words were complete nonsense, yet he spoke with an unsettling certainty—like he truly believed what he was saying. More than that, he sounded confused, genuinely perplexed, as if something about me wasn't adding up in his mind.
Maybe I could use that to get him to leave me alone.
"Are you drunk?" I muttered, my voice edged with irritation. "Look, dude, whatever. If you're not gonna help, just leave me alone. Also, can you move your damn hand from my face?"
He didn't react, didn't even blink. Instead, his grip remained firm, his unreadable expression unchanging as he spoke again.
"Your soul is foul… I cannot judge it. It can neither rest nor be tortured."
A cold unease twisted in my gut.
The hell is that supposed to mean?
"…Okay," I exhaled sharply. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm really not in the mood for cryptic bullshit." My head throbbed, frustration mounting. "I can't remember anything from today, I can't move, and my whole body is paralyzed. So either help me by calling an ambulance, or just—"
"I will have to erase your soul," he interrupted, his tone final. "I apologize for that."
My mind blanked.
The fuck?
That was it. That was my limit. I didn't care anymore—whether this guy was drunk, insane, or some mix of both—I was done with this conversation.
I opened my mouth, ready to unleash every bit of irritation I had, but before I could, his grip tightened.
And then—
A sudden, unnatural chill shot through me.
It wasn't just cold—it was wrong. An invasive, consuming force that spread through my entire being in an instant. My body locked up completely, every nerve deadened, my thoughts dulled as if someone had poured ice into my skull.
I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I could only see.
And what I saw were his eyes.
No longer brown. No longer even remotely human.
They glowed—a deep, eerie red that burned into me, hollow and endless.
A creeping realization crawled through my frozen mind.
I'm dying.
But strangely… I didn't feel afraid.
In fact… I felt good.
A strange drowsiness pulled at me, heavy and inescapable. My eyelids drooped, my body surrendering to the unnatural stillness. It was like floating—like drifting toward an inevitable end, and somehow, that end felt peaceful.
Then—
A chuckle.
Low. Amused. Smug.
Followed by a voice, smooth and sharp, cutting through the thick fog in my mind.
"If you don't want that soul, Reaper, why not give it to me?" the voice hummed, full of amusement. "Looks like a fine dinner."
A pause.
Then, for the first time, the robed man moved.
His head turned slightly, his glowing red gaze shifting toward the unseen speaker. His fingers uncurled from my chin, releasing me, and without his grip, my head lolled back onto the grass.
Dazed, my vision swam, but in that split second before the darkness fully swallowed me, I caught a glimpse of something that defied all logic—something I wouldn't have believed even if I had been fully conscious.
The robed man—
He had conjured a weapon.
A scythe.
Massive, its dark blade reflecting the dim streetlights, equal in height to the man himself.
And opposite him, standing casually as if this were nothing more than a casual conversation—
Another man.
The source of the voice.
His grin was wide—too wide—his teeth a sharp glint in the darkness. But it was his eyes that struck me the most.
Completely blackened.
And his arm—outstretched, palm open toward me—was unlike anything I had ever seen.
Dark. Too dark.
Not like skin, not like shadow, but something else entirely—something alive, writhing beneath the surface, swirling with a depth that seemed endless.
The last thought that crossed my fading mind—
Am I hallucinating?