"And just like that..! One day I'll be forty!"
A young man with black hair cascading across his forehead — honey-brown eyes locked on the ceiling fan.
He stood up from the chair, footsteps pacing back and forth near the alleyway of his uncle's shop.
"I don't know for how long… exactly how long I'm supposed to sit here! My teens are gone… and now—"
Pause.
"In two months, I'll be 21."
He knew something had to be done. Otherwise he'd be stuck forever, losing his youth to this damn place.
Life is hard, and even harder for the ones without business or purpose. Lucian was one of them.
Born to a normal family, he was now out of university, jobless — and honestly, things weren't any better when he was in university either.
He was forced to sit in this shop where laborers and old women visited, and most of the time just brats — some stealing candies, others calling him "uncle," making him feel ancient despite being young.
He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
His brows twitched as he looked around — there was no connection but the shop, no longing but the shop. His entire life felt like he was drowning each day, losing a part of himself. The only thing that kept his identity alive was his flesh.
"At least I have my youth and beauty for now."
He looked into the mirror. His reflection stared back — above-average looks, tall, broad shoulders, a balanced physique.
"Sigh… what good is youth if I'm a flower blooming in a desert? Who will see my beauty? Who will praise my vigor? One day I'll wither away too."
He despised the fact that he was just a mortal, destined to die of old age. In this world, who lived past a hundred? Not even the richest could buy youth. So what was the point of having beauty if no one would ever praise it?
He sighed inwardly, then closed the shop (before closing time). After what felt like a lifetime, he finally decided to defy his fate.
He hung the key in the hidden spot and left a message:
"Uncle, I have some business in the city. I hope you understand why I closed early."
He took a deep breath as he stepped outside. Anticipation and guilt clawed at his heart. The crisp autumn air felt warm. Leaves drifted down even with the weakest breeze.
"Am I doing something wrong? Am I the one who's wrong?"
Lucian did something he'd never do — he closed the shop early. Normally he opened at morning and closed at night. His stomach twisted as if he'd committed a sin.
His body paused; his legs felt heavy, as if rocks were tied to his ankles.
"Tch… like I care," he muttered, clicking his tongue.", He finally moved his body, stiff from invisible chains.
With heavy steps, he looked around. People everywhere. Moments had passed since he'd left the shop; his mind spiraled less… or so he thought.
"WHAT THE F—? When did he buy that? That guy used to wear the same underwear front and back for days!"
He shook his head.
"Of course. He told me that himself."
His friend waved at him but didn't bother to come say anything. He sat on a sleek motorcycle, engine purring like a dragon. A girl got onto the back seat and tightened her grip as they drove off.
Lucian's jaw hit the metaphorical floor.
"What dog-sh*t luck… must've won a gamble or something. Who knows, maybe that wasn't his girlfriend — maybe it was his sister."
He chuckled dryly, fabricating thoughts to digest the sight. The city was full of bright, happy people.
He saw kids laughing after kindergarten, their parents picking them up.
"Sigh… I never had that."
His gaze turned melancholic — but even that moment didn't last.
"Ugh?"
A sudden impact — someone bumped into him.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! It was her!"
A high-school girl blushed uncontrollably, clearly pushed toward Lucian by her friends.
"Pardon?" Lucian stepped back but caught himself. He tried not to yell at the brat whose face was as red as a tomato.
"A-and she said you look handsome and crashed into you!" another girl said, fumbling.
"Handsome?" Lucian raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile.
"These brats… what are they doing at this hour? Probably bunked class."
The girl wanted to disappear. Her face somehow got even redder.
"It's okay. No problem," Lucian said warmly with a bright smile.
He turned to walk away… but—
"Hey? You in college?"
A pretty girl with a mischievous smile stepped forward.
Lucian slowly looked back.
"Tch… what the hell does this brat want now? Focus. You're an adult. She's just a high-school kid."
"Nope," he said, stealing a quick glance before walking faster.
"Then you dropped out?" she said, closing the distance.
Lucian's heart panicked.
"No… I graduated last year," he mumbled.
"What?"
Her pupils widened. The other girls murmured in awe.
---
Girl 1: "Graduated? No way. I thought he was a freshman."
Girl 2: "Is he some old guy under makeup? He looks so cute… maybe he's only a few months older than me."
Girl 3: "Umm… creepy…"
---
The pretty girl squinted at Lucian.
"You… how old are you?"
Lucian opened his mouth to answer the girl's question when a loud, shaky voice sliced through the street.
"S-Stop laughing at me!"
Everyone turned.
A chubby boy in a wrinkled high-school uniform stood a few steps away — sweating, eyes red, hands trembling. In his fist was a kitchen knife.
The girls froze.
Lucian blinked.
"…What the hell?"
The boy's breathing was ragged.
"She… she laughed at me again! I told her to stop… I TOLD her!"
One of the girls whispered,
"He followed us again…"
Lucian felt his stomach drop.
"What the hell is going on? I just closed the shop early… went for a walk… and THIS is what I get?"
The boy stepped closer, knife shaking in his sweaty hand.
"You think you're better than me, huh!? You think you can just ignore me!?"
The girl he glared at backed up, tears forming.
Lucian's voice dropped cold.
"What the hell is this mess…"
Shit, he thought.
Ishould just run. This is getting dangerous.
"He confessed to me last week," the girl said, voice cracking. "I rejected him… he's creepy and keeps stalking us!"
Typical teenage drama.
Lucian knew exactly why they'd even approached him earlier — because of his looks. A bunch of teenage girls saw a handsome guy and pushed their friend onto him. Meanwhile, the same world looked at the chubby boy with fear and disgust.
The contrast hit Lucian like a slap.
"The world worships beauty… and spits on ugliness."
His eyes drifted to the reflection of his own face on the surface of the boy's knife — then to the boy's sweaty, trembling one.
"You might be bullied, laughed at, called names," Lucian said quietly, meeting the boy's gaze. "But that doesn't mean you do this."
"YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT!"
The boy barked, voice cracking.
Lucian didn't think.
His body moved before his brain did.
"Oi, calm down!" he said, stepping between them.
The boy's eyes snapped to him.
To Lucian's face.
To his height.
To his beauty.
Everything the boy hated in himself.
"You…" he whispered.
"You think you're so perfect…"
Lucian frowned.
"Kid, stop. Put that down—"
The boy lunged.
Lucian saw only a blur.
A flash.
A sting.
A warmth exploding in his abdomen.
He looked down.
The knife was inside him.
"In a normal autumn day…" Lucian whispered, a small smile curling on his lips, "I was expecting to eat sweet potatoes from a stall… or play in a game center like the old days…"
The boy's eyes widened in horror.
"I-I didn't— I didn't mean—!"
Lucian gasped as the breath left his lungs.
His knees buckled.
The world tilted.
The autumn air felt cold now.
The bright city lights blurred.
"Wha…?"
He reached out for something — anything —
but his fingers caught only empty air.
The girls screamed.
People shouted.
Footsteps scattered.
Lucian collapsed, cheek hitting the pavement.
So this is how I die?
A pool of blood spread rapidly beneath him, warm at first… then chilling.
The knife had gone deep — straight into a vital point. A clean, lethal strike.
"COUGH—!"
Lucian spat out a mouthful of blood, dark and thick.
The boy who stabbed him was frozen in place, trembling…
The girls had already run off, their screams fading into the distance.
Lucian chuckled inwardly as their silhouettes blurred.
"Run… run faster… I'll haunt you in your nightmares, ladies…"
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"I never lived a free life… always a slave to my fate…"
Footsteps echoed.
Onlookers gathered — some curious, some scared, some excited.
No one touched him.
No one helped.
Phones were raised.
Pictures. Videos.
Entertainment.
Lucian let out a shaky breath.
"Not even a sip of water for a dying man, huh? …humanity, my ass…"
His vision flickered.
The world dimmed.
His body finally began losing itself… drifting away… slipping from his control…
"So this is it…? Twenty years of life just to be killed by a stupid, unstable brat?"
He tried to chuckle, but his consciousness was slipping, drifting… his body no longer obeying him.
Even his face refused to move the way he wanted.
Death — he always thought of it as a simple fact of life.
You're born, you die.
He accepted that.
But never…
never did he expect his end to be this random, this humiliating, this pathetic.
In a few ragged breaths, even the pain abandoned him.
His body felt distant, fading… and with it, his memories surfaced — one after another, like fragile bubbles bursting in the dark.
I never learned how to swim.
I never said no to people.
I pushed away the girl who confessed to me in high school…
I was a coward.
No— I am a coward.
A coward who lived by other people's wishes…
A pawn moved by everyone else's hands…
A chess piece with no will of its own.
Even in death… I didn't get to choose.
I didn't even get to die my own death.
Many emotions came and went — regret, fear, anger — all swirling together.
Memories of his life surged like a flood, drowning him in flashes of pain and loneliness.
But then… something else.
"BAM!"
A sharp impact struck his face — not from this world.
Another memory.
Then another.
They weren't his.
They slammed into him violently, raw and burning…
as if molten lava was being poured into his skull,
as if someone forced him to swallow burning coals.
His nerves screamed.
His mind twisted.
"UGHHHH—!!"
Lucian let out a guttural scream, his voice cracking from pure agony.
Everything blurred — time, space, sensation — all melting together.
These memories…
these emotions…
this pain…
They belonged to another boy.
A boy whose suffering made Lucian's own life look gentle.