It all began on the night of the blood moon, a symbol of ominous signs like death and destruction. Kairo had been cursed with misfortune from the moment he was born.
He lost his mother during childbirth, and life only became harder from there. On his third birthday, his father went to town for groceries but never returned. After filing a police report, they discovered that he had died in a car accident.
Hearing about death, kairo cried the whole night; his three-year-old heart could not comprehend the situation." Everything felt cold and unsettling.
Eighteen years passed since that day, and Kairo had been living with his grandfather, Manuel Tonio, a man who served in the military for ten years.
His grandfather imparted many important lessons to him, including how to read, write, and make friends. Unfortunately, the last lessons didn't have the impact he had hoped for. It was hard for Kairo because he was often labeled "the walking disaster," making other kids wary of him. His grandfather would often say, "Flowers may bloom again, but a person will never be young again," reminding him of the preciousness of youth and connection.
Kairo understood that one day, he would have to leave this world.
"Please don't cry at my funeral, kid," his grandfather added gently, wanting Kairo to remember the good times instead.
Kairo could not understand why his grandfather would say such things. He was still in his fifties—why would he suddenly start talking about death? Kairo hoped that this mystery would become clear to him one day.
****
(Manuel's POV)
Manuel was heading to the hospital because his chest had been hurting for the past few weeks. However, he had ignored it, thinking it was just due to his smoking habit and old age.
"Dammit, it has gotten worse since last week."
"Cough, cough..."
He had just parked his car in the hospital lot, but as he was about to enter, an uncontrollable chest pain struck, and he lost consciousness. When he woke up, Kairo was sitting beside him.
"What are you doing here, kid?" Kairo gazed at him in silence, unable to speak. After a long pause, he finally opened his mouth, but the words were trapped in his throat, lingering just out of reach.
"The doctors are saying that you are going to die." Hearing this, Manuel fell silent for a moment. Then, shifting to his left, he began to speak:
"Hmm, why do you look sad? It's just that my time has come a little too fast." Kairo sat there, speechless; he didn't know what to say. As the world came crashing down, he placed the fruit he had brought for his grandfather on the table and quietly left without saying a word.
****
(Kairo's POV)
"It has been four days since Grandpa was admitted to the hospital. I have been visiting him regularly, and it seems he doesn't have much time left. Everything became clear to me—Grandpa had been talking about death because he had known his condition for a long time but didn't want to worry me.
"Yesterday, I lost my grandpa, a guiding light in my life. Today is my 19th birthday, a day that should be filled with joy, but instead, I face the somber reality of his funeral. This moment reminds us of the fragility of life and the importance of cherishing every moment with our loved ones."
"It seems that the hereditary affliction did not spare even my grandfather. This burden rests heavily on my shoulders; my existence feels like a mistake from the very beginning." As raindrops mingled with his tears, he gazed despondently at the turbulent river below. The water surged with a ferocity that seemed to challenge anyone who might venture too close.
In that moment, Kairo threw himself into the embrace of the river. The water quickly turned red as his body was battered by the stones and the force of the current.
As the pain subsided, a calm sensation enveloped him. It felt as if his soul were drifting through space, slowly moving toward a warm and bright light.
Sometime later, his consciousness returned as he inspected the unfamiliar room and the oversized bed, which was surprisingly comfortable. He looked around curiously, wondering, "It doesn't seem to be the hospital. Where am I?" As he tried to move, he realized that his whole body was sore, restricting his movements.
****
"Where am I?" I quietly ask myself, feeling confused. When I look into the mirror, I can't believe what I see. Instead of my usual face, I see a five-year-old child with bright eyes and messy hair. The child wears fancy medieval clothes—richly colored fabrics in deep reds and blues that catch the light. The tunic has beautiful designs and is tied at the waist with a delicate belt. A small cloak hangs over the shoulders, held in place with a gold clasp. It feels strange, like I've traveled back in time to a period of nobility, where every detail of the outfit tells a story of elegance and privilege. "Where am I?" I ask again, still stunned by the reflection of a child dressed in noble medieval clothing.