The morning sun filtered faintly through gray clouds as Auren Hoshinaka awoke in his motel room, the digital clock blinking 8:00 AM. He rubbed his eyes, got dressed quickly, and packed up his belongings. Without a glance back, he stepped out, flagged a taxi, and headed toward the eastern edge of Hanzora Metropolis.
This part of the city was far different from the glass towers and buzzing streets he'd left behind. The east was a blend of wild, untouched forests and vast stretches of rocky seashore. Wind carried the scent of salt and damp earth, whispering old stories only the waves remembered.
Auren stepped out of the taxi, holding a crumpled note with an address. It was his grandfather's—someone he'd never met, only heard about in fragments from his parents. He began asking locals for directions, but each person either ignored him or walked away with discomfort in their eyes. When he gently grabbed a man's arm to ask more urgently, the man flinched and turned on him, yelling.
"How dare someone like you touch me?! Filthy and fat, just look at yourself!"
Auren stood frozen, heart sinking as a crowd gathered, muttering harsh, stinging words under their breath. Their glares sliced deeper than any blade.
Ashamed and silent, he walked away, shoulders low, thoughts spinning. Why does it always end up like this…? he wondered, trudging forward without knowing where to go.
Then, a voice called out.
"You looking for the old grandpa's house?"
Auren turned to see a frail beggar sitting by a cracked stone wall. The man's beard was a mess of gray, but his eyes held a sharpness that felt out of place.
"You knew my grandfather?" Auren asked, hopeful.
"Knew him well," the beggar said. "Kind soul. Handsome too. Lived right by the sea—easternmost end, near the green cliffs."
The beggar guided him through narrow paths and muddy trails until, finally, they reached it: an old, weathered house perched on the beach, waves gently lapping at its steps. Behind it, a stretch of lush green hills curved into the horizon.
As Auren was about to walk in, the beggar grabbed his arm.
"Wait, boy. What about a tip, eh?"
Auren blinked. "Oh, right. Here." He handed the man a ten-cresin coin.
The beggar laughed mockingly. "Ten won't do. I walked all this way, didn't I? A thousand, maybe two."
Auren sighed, reluctant but cornered. He handed over the cash, watching the beggar grin and limp away.
Inside, the house was coated in thick layers of dust. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and the scent of neglect lingered. He placed his bags aside and spent the next hour sweeping, wiping, and airing out the rooms. Despite the grime, there was something comforting about the place. Like it had been waiting for him.
By afternoon, the house sparkled with new life.
But Auren felt hollow.
He sat at the kitchen table, staring at a half-eaten sandwich, voices from earlier still echoing in his head. "Fat." "Filthy." "People like you."
His fists clenched. He walked to the washbasin, looked at himself in the mirror above it, and whispered, "Why… why did you make me like this? What did I do wrong?"
Tears welled in his eyes.
With a sudden burst of emotion, he picked up a nearby metal rod and struck the mirror. It shattered instantly, shards splashing into the basin below. He stumbled back, then sank against the wall beside the sink, pulling his knees to his chest.
And then… something shifted.
The wall behind him groaned, as if something ancient had been disturbed. Auren jumped up and watched in stunned silence as the wall slowly slid backward, revealing a hidden passage behind it.
Cold, musty air spilled out. The room beyond was pitch black.
He hesitated.
What… is this place?
Taking a cautious step forward, Auren peered inside. There were faint carvings on the stone archway—symbols he didn't recognize, yet something deep in his memory stirred, trying to resurface.
The room waited like a silent question. It felt… alive.
His heart pounded. One part of him screamed to leave, to shut the wall and pretend this never happened. But another part—stronger, bolder—wanted to step into the unknown.
He stood at the edge, torn.
Would he brave the darkness within?
Or
Seal it away and remain in the light?
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To be continued...