Joglin was falling from a great height.
The wind hit his face, his clothes, his body— but he wasn't scared.
Instead… he smiled.
A small, sad smile.
"Hmm… I knew I would die someday. But I didn't think it would happen this fast."
As he fell, one thought echoed in his mind:
"No matter how kind or good a person becomes… the world never gives them anything in return."
But Joglin never accepted that.
He had only one dream—
to bring everyone in the world together.
But that dream never came true.
And then—
THUD.
Joglin hit the ground.
Everything went silent.
---
Darkness covered his vision.
He couldn't see anything.
He couldn't feel his body.
Then he heard something.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
Joglin tried to move.
Nothing.
"Why… why can't I see? Where am I?"
Then he heard voices.
At first, very soft…
like echoes far away.
Then louder.
Some were crying.
Some were laughing strangely.
Some were whispering.
Some were chanting in a language he didn't understand.
It felt like thousands of spirits were around him.
Joglin started breathing fast.
"What is this place…?"
Suddenly— FLASH.
A bright white light exploded in front of his eyes.
"Ah—!"
Joglin opened his eyes quickly.
---
He was floating in empty space.
There was no floor.
No sky.
No walls.
Nothing.
Just a huge, endless dark space.
Joglin looked around, confused and scared.
Then the space began to shake.
Colors appeared suddenly— red, blue, green, black— changing again and again like a broken nightmare.
Thunder boomed loudly.
Joglin covered his ears.
"Stop… stop…"
Lightning flashed again.
And in the next second—
Joglin was no longer in the empty space.
---
He was now inside a dark room.
The room wasn't normal.
The walls were covered with spirits.
Some were crying.
Some were screaming.
Some were laughing like they were insane.
Their voices grew louder and louder.
Joglin closed his eyes tightly.
"STOP IT!! STOP!!"
But the voices didn't stop.
Instead… something worse happened.
From every wall, from every corner, from every shadow—
millions of black hands came out.
Some hands were dry like bones.
Some were rotten like dead bodies.
Some were dripping with dark, sticky blood.
They moved strangely, twisting and cracking as they reached toward him.
There was no empty space left on the walls.
The hands surrounded him completely.
Joglin froze in terror.
Then—
They grabbed him.
---
He screamed as the hands pulled and scratched him.
They tore his skin.
They crushed his bones.
They pulled pieces of him away.
Blood poured down his body.
Pain exploded in every part of him.
"Why?! Why is this happening to me?! SOMEBODY HELP ME—!!"
But no one came.
Only the voices remained.
And among those voices, one name started repeating again and again:
"Han Seojin…
Han Seojin…
Han.
Seo.
Jin."
Joglin's eyes widened.
"Han Seojin…? Who is that?"
The chanting grew louder.
The hands pulled harder.
Joglin shouted:
"I AM NOT HAN SEOJIN!!!"
The moment he screamed, his throat tore.
He could no longer speak.
His body was almost destroyed—
bones exposed, muscles missing, skin ripped apart.
He was dying again.
But his mind kept repeating one question:
"I died when I fell.
So how am I here?"
A STRANGE DEEP VOICE :
[ KOS' ROETOʻ JULES HAN JO WOSTA ]
---
Suddenly, everything stopped.
All the spirits and hands froze.
A deep, powerful voice echoed through the room.
It wasn't loud.
But it was impossible to ignore.
The room became hot.
Fire appeared from nowhere—
and all the hands began burning.
They screamed and turned to ashes.
Except the few hands still holding Joglin—
those didn't burn.
Soon, millions of hands became dust.
Joglin's body fell to the ground.
He was almost just a skeleton now.
He breathed slowly, painfully.
AGAIN SAME STRANGE VOICE :
[KOS' ROETOʻ JULES HAN JO WOSTA ]
---
And then
The floor shook.
BOOM.
The ground cracked open, and Joglin fell again.
But now he wasn't falling through the air—
he was falling through darkness.
He looked up weakly—
and saw a glowing white figure, floating above him.
Human-shaped. Featureless. Bright.
It watched him silently as he fell.
Joglin couldn't speak…
but he felt the voice inside his mind.
A calm, cold sentence:
"Joglin is gone.
Han Seojin has returned."
The figure kept watching.
Joglin fell deeper into the void.
---
TO BE CONTINUED.