Once, everyone liked him.
The young man was called by others "the perfect child." He had above-average intelligence, an athletic body, a handsome face, and friends everywhere. Now, all of that was gone.
Everything had been destroyed.
It all fell apart because of a single incident that shattered his life. Everything the young man once had vanished, gone without a trace. No one knew what truly happened. Only he knew—and he never told anyone.
From that moment on, the young man stopped being the person people once knew. He began locking himself inside his room. His days were filled with nothing but laziness: sleeping on the bed, staring at a computer screen, eating instant food. The same routine repeated itself endlessly.
Inside his mind, beyond that door, lay nightmares. Countless monsters lurked out there. Footsteps sounded like beasts hunting their prey, and human voices became screams ordering him to die.
His father, who once proudly boasted about him to others, had turned into someone he no longer recognized. His father would bang violently on the door while shouting,
"HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO LOCK YOURSELF IN THAT ROOM?!"
He kept yelling at the young man, until finally he said,
"I wish you weren't my son."
After those words were spoken, the man the young man once called "Father" never returned home.
Then there were the neighbors. They talked loudly near his house, as if on purpose so he could hear them.
"That kid has become so miserable. His life is completely ruined."
"I agree. He's no longer a perfect child, but—"
"—an unwanted child."
Not only the neighbors—his friends too. The ones who once praised him, who accompanied him wherever he went, now made posts on social media.
"Hey, I passed by ***'s house today. You know, his place is empty now—smelly and unpleasant to look at."
"I heard his father doesn't come home anymore."
"Poor mother, giving birth to a child like that."
Everyone left.
Everyone—except one person.
His mother.
She looked old, even though she was only thirty-five. She once had a warm smile, a calming laugh, and a strong body. Now that body looked weak and fragile. Yet her eyes still held the same love as before. She still cooked for him.
"Dear… it's time to eat. I'll leave it near the door, okay?"
She still knocked on his bedroom door every morning to wake him.
"Good morning, dear… it's time to wake up…"
She still said "good night" before going to sleep, even though she never received a reply.
"Dear… I'm going to sleep now. Don't stay up too late. It's not good for your body… Good night."
That woman continued to care for a child who wouldn't even look at her face. When everyone else had left the young man behind, she stayed by his side—alone.
Late at night, the young man heard it.
The sound of coughing, followed by quiet sobbing. His mother was in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, crying by herself. He heard everything. Yet his body wouldn't move. Fear bound him like chains he couldn't break. His body could move, but his soul refused to leave its cage. He only sat on his bed, hugging his knees, hating himself.
"I hate myself so much…"
That was all he could do. But one sentence passed through his mind.
"How long am I going to live like this?"
He fell silent for a moment. Warm memories with his family resurfaced, especially of his mother—her beautiful smile, her heart-warming laughter, her embrace that always brought him peace. All of it replayed in his mind. Then—
"Tomorrow," he whispered.
"Tomorrow, I'll change. I'll leave this room. I'll greet Mom, hug her tightly, and say—"
"I'm sorry, Mom."
"Thank you for always being with me."
"I love you."
At last, the young man steeled his resolve. He quickly lay down on his bed, unable to wait for the next day.
The seconds ticked by. The day changed.
07:00.
He heard someone turning on the stove and cooking.
That must be Mom.
The young man stood up immediately. For the first time since locking himself away, he stepped toward his bedroom door. His steps were unsteady, his knees weak, but his determination was firm. He reached the door—the door that had become the boundary between himself and the world.
In his mind, he imagined his mother's reaction after waiting so long, seeing her child finally leave his room and embrace her.
"I can do this. It's not too late."
His hand touched the doorknob. It was cold—cold from not being touched for so long.
Slowly, he opened the door. Light from outside began to pour in, forcing him to shield his eyes.
When he opened them again, what he saw was not the hallway he knew, not the kitchen he was familiar with—and his mother was not there. Her figure, her voice—nothing.
Everything was already too late.
All the young man saw was darkness.
Darkness surrounding him.
At first, he thought he had fainted, fallen asleep, or was dreaming. He closed his eyes and opened them again, but nothing changed. He saw nothing—no light, no floor, no walls. Only empty space filled with darkness, and himself within it.
His body touched nothing, yet it did not fall. He felt as if he were floating in the darkness.
Then, a murmuring sound emerged—like water, coming from every direction.
The Black Sea?
When he looked up—an ocean of black.
When he looked down—the same black ocean.
The sea had no waves. It was silent, flat, yet immeasurably deep and terrifying.
As he looked around, his body suddenly felt heavy, as if his body and soul were being forcibly torn apart.
His body was pulled downward, while his soul was pulled upward.
What is happening?
The pull grew stronger. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. It was as if his entire existence was being violently split apart.
His head felt crushed, his heart burned, his brain boiled, his limbs felt torn away. Then—
A blinding explosion of light split the space apart. His eyes burned from the white flash. His body was dragged downward, sinking into the black sea, while his soul was pulled upward, passing through it and entering a different body.
It's Dark.