"…"
The faint sound of a mysterious boy's breathing echoed through the room. His body lay flat on a filthy wooden bed. Brilliant morning sunlight streamed in through the window, falling upon his tightly shut eyelids.
Slowly, the boy's eyelids opened, receiving the light of the sun.
"Uh… oww…"
I woke up in a daze, probably the result of sleeping far too long. Maybe next time I should try sleeping less?
I slowly sat up, gripping the edge of the bed with both hands to support myself. Pain spread throughout my body.
"Sleeping too deeply makes it hurt this much?"
The pain was beyond description—my head ached, my whole body throbbed, and my muscles refused to move. Maybe I should even take tomorrow off?
"Ow…"
The arm I used to push myself up lacked the strength to lift my body, and I collapsed back down. My vision spun. I didn't feel like doing anything—just wanted to sleep for several more hours.
Above me was a wooden ceiling I didn't quite recognize. Was this a new place? But it was just as dirty as where I used to live…
I vaguely saw a decaying wooden ceiling, cobwebs clinging to it. Thin rays of light slipped through the gaps above—perhaps there was another floor higher up.
What am I even thinking? I need to get to work already. I've wasted too much time on this. Even though my body screamed in pain, I tried to prop myself up again. The familiar pain returned, but I ignored it.
Even though it was morning, I still couldn't see clearly. I groped around for something I could use to support myself, until my hand grasped something that felt like wood.
I guessed it was a wooden table beside my bed from before I fell asleep. But the texture felt different—maybe just an effect of sleeping too long.
I pushed myself up. My body began to go numb. My feet slowly touched the wooden floor beneath the bed. I was now sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Just sitting up makes me this sore? I guess beds really aren't for me."
I began trying to recall what happened before. Strangely, I couldn't remember anything at all—but well…
"I remember now…"
My name is Denet. A perfectly ordinary boy, the only child of a poor family. My parents worked all day just to earn a little money. Even that small amount was enough to send me to school.
But I didn't want my parents to suffer. Still, I couldn't refuse—it was my future. Then, when I was around fourteen, my parents passed away…
"A sad, dramatic story? That's just normal for me."
I was cast out. No job, no home, living on dangerous streets at night. The people who saw me reacted in different ways—mockery, help, pity, sympathy? But in the end, they didn't help. That's just how humans are.
I lived like that for two or three years, until one day a group invited me to work overseas. I accepted immediately, full of hope. I followed them everywhere, but the work seemed far too harsh for me.
A child like me was forced to do labor beyond what a normal person could handle. That wasn't fair, was it? But I couldn't reject that fate. I simply continued living my unbearably dull life.
Eventually, I managed to rent a small room. It wasn't anything special, but it was important to me. I lay down on the bed in that room and fell asleep…
"Hah… my story really is boring. I should probably forget it and move on."
I quickly brushed those thoughts aside and sat quietly on the bed, as if trying to piece together the past. I sat there for several minutes until my eyes adjusted to the surroundings.
An unfamiliar room appeared before me—a room neither too small nor too large. There was only a little furniture scattered about: the dirty wooden bed I had just risen from, the wooden floor beneath my feet, a cobweb-covered wooden ceiling, and rotting walls.
"Uh…"
This didn't seem to be the room I used to live in. It was different. I should've realized that from the wooden ceiling alone—the room I slept in had a concrete ceiling. Yes, yes… this wasn't my room.
I tried to calm myself in this situation. It was shocking, but I remained composed enough not to show any emotion.
I stood up and began exploring the room to understand it better. A strange thought crossed my mind—that I might be staying in this room for a long time. I stared at the wooden floor.
Light seeped through the gaps between the floorboards. It seemed my room wasn't on the top floor, nor on the bottom floor.
I walked toward a wardrobe that was neither too near nor too far.
The wardrobe was surprisingly ordinary—not decayed, not dirty. It looked the most normal thing in the room. That made sense, though; the room wasn't small, and keeping a small wardrobe clean would be manageable.
I grabbed the wardrobe handle and opened it. Inside were only about six or seven outfits.
The first was an old-fashioned school uniform, which was rather strange. A school uniform in this room—was the owner a student?
The second outfit resembled a police uniform. Why would there be a uniform like that here?
The third and fifth were casual clothes and sleepwear, looking as if they came straight out of the medieval era.
The remaining clothes were work outfits—nothing unusual there.
I slowly closed the wardrobe door and looked around once more, until I noticed a mysterious mirror that looked beautiful, expensive, and far more carefully maintained than anything else.
The mirror was decorated with gold and elegant patterns. Did the owner of this room like looking at himself? Why put so much care into just a mirror? It was truly suspicious.
I looked into the mirror and saw an unfamiliar figure—a boy around fourteen or fifteen years old, black hair with white highlights, shining golden eyes, a well-proportioned body, and a slightly handsome face.
"Uh!"
"…"