"What have I become?"
A lean, slightly tall figure of a guy with fragile posture was ascending decrepit - crumbling stairs in the dark with no clear visibility around.
"How… Can't, I can't become this. Why….why… why…. I-I didn't want it to end like this, but I can't find any other way."
His voice barely existed—soft enough that only he could hear it, yet trembling like it was fighting to stay alive.
After climbing for a minute or two, he hauled himself onto the roof of an old, abandoned, ruined building. He stopped at the edge and peered down—no zenith, no bottom, just a pitch-black abyss, it felt like it could swallow him whole.
"I hated them. I never wanted to be one of them. I became what I despised. I wish... I didn't have to choose this path. I wanted to live..."
He mumbled these words and stepped forward, one foot slipping past the cliff's edge. The fall was already reaching for him—when a voice called out from behind.
"Stop!!! Please don't!"
He heard it, loud and clear, but his body was already past the point of reacting. He dropped—heart hammering at a frantic speed.
"Who was it?"
He tried to grasp the identity behind the voice, but the question dissolved as the void engulfed him.
***
Eyes opened. Calm. Nothing rushed, nothing screamed. Yohan sighed subtly.
'A dream? Who could that be?'
Yohan's mind churned, questioning who had tried to stop him—the frail looking guy. Then looked around, bracing himself to get up from his bed. But something was different. He's not in his familiar urban room but some warm wooden cottage.
Morning hit him like a flood—the cottage bathed in sunlight stabbing through the panes, so bright it made him squint, walls glowing, dust motes dancing in the brilliance, turning the simple cottage into a cathedral of gold. Each corner alive with a soft, golden hum.The air smelled of dew and wildflowers, and for a heartbeat, the world felt endless.
'What's this peculiar feeling? I live here? Yes, I live here. Then what's this doubtful feeling, as though I'm omitting something significant.'
Something sat wrong in his chest, a quiet ache whispering that he didn't belong here. He'd lived in this cottage, tucked away from the world for years, but now a strange doubt gnawed at him—like a piece of his life had been ripped out and he'd only just noticed the empty space.
Knock! Knock!
A gentle knock broke the stillness, and his eyes instinctively found the cottage door. Step by step, he approached, heart tightening with a mix of anticipation and unease—the silence around him amplifying every sound.
"Who?" He asked reflexively.
"It's me." A reply slipped through the door, muffled but unmistakably human.
"Huh!? Who's 'me'?" His voice clipped unwittingly sarcastic and was ready to open the door without waiting for further response.
"Hey... it's me, Dane." Answer came from the other side and Yohan had already opened the door a little, getting doubtfully sure about the person's identity — he opened it whole.
That guy standing in front of him was actually the son of the owner of that cottage where Yohan was staying as per his memory - not himself sure since when. Just an incoherent memory of living here for a few years.
In front of Yohan stood a broad, bulky figure, a couple of inches taller, looking barely out of his teens. Wearing a gray tracksuit. The morning light hit him just right, obscuring his features in a harsh glare.
"Took a while." The guy said typically and Yohan rubbed the back of his neck, anxiety crawling through him, awkwardness clinging like a second skin.
"So… how're your studies going? Dad sent me to check if you're dealing with anything. Everything is fine?" Dane wandered around the cottage as he spoke, eyes sweeping over every corner with quiet inspection.
Yohan frowned inwardly, deliberating why he would come and ask these kinds of questions, at this time. Questions were typical — yet he was concerned.
" Yeah for now, everything is alright. I would have told your father if something was bothering. I appreciate the care. I'm doing better."
His voice held that familiar nervous politeness, the one that always surfaced in formal conversations — clasping his hands behind.
"Glad to hear," Dane halted and looked at him for once - in some unusual hurry. "There's something else I need to tell you, hope it won't bug you."
Yohan's face became an epitome of question mark.
"Oh… it's nothing," he added. "Some guests are visiting, might drop by to see the cottage and stay a day. If anything's off, you can tell me—I hope it won't trouble you."
For a moment,Yohan couldn't apprehend what he meant then replied against his will, "uh... Of course not, there's no problem, not at all." Adding an awkward smile — trembling at the edges.
'Damn... these introverted traits.' He muttered in his head.
A figure walked in, pulling Yohan and Dane's attention toward the doorway. It was a young lady before her 20s, wearing a flowing cyan-green fantasy gown with layered skirts, wide dramatic sleeves, black lace trimming. A pale cream underskirt softens the look, and a delicate silver choker completes her elegant, noble vibe.
Yohan took a brief look at her for a couple of seconds then flicked his gaze away to the corner of the room, acting like he'd just recalled some imaginary task.
"Moon Of Spring, you got here yourself? Where are others?" Dane asked that girl.
Ping!
Yohan's phone rang for a second in his hand. ' It was in my hand? Since when?' He was slightly bewildered, then took a look at the screen it was a notification message saying, 'You're coming?'.
He furrowed his brow and whispered,"Huh!? What? Where?"
Right after that, he shot Dane a quick nod and a small gesture—basically a silent " I'll be back." He slipped off to the side, trying not to look awkward while they talked, and headed toward the bathroom.
He'd barely taken a few steps when he heard the girl's voice behind him: "Nah, I came with Moon Of Autumn. She's outside. Others will be here soon too."
Yohan didn't bother digging into whatever they were talking about; he was just a little fed up. He washed his hands, splashed his face, and let out a long, tired sigh. "Whatever."
After a while, the cottage filled with a low hum of voices—soft gossip rolling through the walls as more guests trickled in.
From the bathroom, Yohan could catch the faint threads of their chatter, but one detail snagged in his mind: every guest carried a strange, almost storybook sort of name, all of them beginning with 'Moon'. This made him wonder if they all belong to some moon club.
He wore a long black coat over hisdark turtleneck sweater that hung sleek and heavy, beige trousers, a simple black belt and polished black shoes — slightly ragged on the right.
He stepped out and walked into the main room near the front door. Everyone was gathered there, sitting in a loose circle while Dane stood with his arms crossed, explaining something Yohan wasn't meant to understand—and honestly didn't want to.
Keeping his eyes low, Yohan offered a small greeting gesture to the group—polite, distant—and then slipped out of the cottage before anyone could pull him into the conversation.
The door clicked shut behind him."Phew... What a crap." He walked without direction. He knew he was doing something, going somewhere—but the what slipped away, like his body had taken over on instinct alone. The harder he reached for his thoughts, the faster they blurred into fog.
The road felt unfamiliar. So did the buildings. He was still in a city—just not his. Cleaner. Quieter. Almost too perfect. Like a place he didn't remember entering.
'Why am I wearing all this weight in the sun—and still feeling nothing?'
He reached a building that looked like some school or institute and walked in without thinking. Inside, it was dressed up—lights, banners, the quiet chaos of an event about to begin.
He moved down a long hallway into an open hall. Nearly a hundred people his age were scattered across chairs, some facing a low stage while some whispering to each other.
Fwump!
He was still trying to apprehend where he was when a sudden punch landed on his back—hard, careless, and oddly empty of malice.