Gasp...
He woke suddenly, air tearing into his lungs. His throat burned with dryness, and when he tried to speak, no words came out.
Holy shit… where am I?
So I'm not dead? Damn it—I thought I was. I was dead… wasn't I?
He pushed himself upright and looked around. The room was unfamiliar but strangely comfortable. Shelves packed with books lined the walls, and the bed beneath him felt warm and well-used.
Whose room is this?
He stood and faced the mirror hanging on the wall.
The face staring back at him wasn't his.
He raised a trembling hand and touched his cheek, then his jaw, his eyes—everything felt real, yet wrong. This body didn't belong to him.
He sank back onto the bed, trying to steady his thoughts.
The last thing he remembered was lying in a hospital room, doctors speaking in hushed voices. A disease in its final stage. No cure. Then—light. Blinding, overwhelming light.
Death.
And yet… here he was.
What unsettled him most wasn't his own survival—it was this body. The original owner had died too. But how? He scanned the room again. No blood. No signs of struggle. Nothing broken, nothing disturbed.
It was as if the soul had simply vanished.
The thought made his head ache.
As he tried to calm himself, another strange realization hit him.
He didn't know his name.
Frowning, he turned toward the window and slowly pulled aside the curtain.
The world outside made his breath hitch.
Tall, citadel-shaped buildings rose in the distance, their stone walls blending old architecture with something strangely modern. Shops lined the streets below, people moving about their daily lives. It wasn't his world—yet it felt lived-in, real.
Where… am I?
On a nearby desk, he noticed a bag. It looked like a student's. He opened it and rummaged through until his fingers brushed against a card.
An ID.
LUKEN MORROW.
He stared at the name.
That's… a cool name.
In my previous life, I had a dumb one people loved to make fun of.
As he continued searching the bag, something heavier slid into his palm—a cross-shaped pendant, cold to the touch. At its center was a deep red crystal, glowing faintly. It looked ancient, out of place, like an artifact from another era.
Before he could think further, a loud voice echoed from outside the room.
"Hey, brother! It's time to wake up. Breakfast is ready!"
His body reacted before his mind did. "Ah—yeah. I'll be there."
"Don't be late," the voice added. "You have class today."
Class…
Right. He was a student.
Wait. Do I have a sister?
As he headed toward the door, his eyes caught a few framed photographs on the wall. He stopped and picked one up.
A family photo.
A smiling man and woman—his parents, apparently. A younger girl standing beside him. His sister.
Another photo showed him with another boy, both laughing.
A friend…
A strange tightness formed in his chest.
He had a loving family. A normal life.
Then why did he take his own life?
What could have possibly driven him to that point?
Downstairs, a woman smiled warmly at him. "Oh, finally awake. You wouldn't get up even when we all tried."
"I think I'm mature now," Luken said without thinking.
His little sister laughed. "Mature? You? Never."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah, yeah."
They sat at the table together. As they ate, his father rested a hand on his shoulder. The simple touch sent an odd sensation through his body—comfort mixed with unfamiliarity.
"How was yesterday?" his father asked. "You came back late."
"I've been… busy lately," Luken replied. "That's all."
His father nodded. "Whatever you're doing, be careful. Being smart helps in dangerous situations."
His mother waved it off. "There's no danger. At his age, he should enjoy life."
As they ate, Luken watched them—his family. Laughter, conversation, warmth. Something he had lost in his previous life.
The table was full of food and noise and life.
And that made the question even heavier.
Why would someone throw this away?
After breakfast, he prepared for class, still unsure of what awaited him. Checking his ID again, he noticed his major.
HISTORY AND ARTIFACTS.
Artifacts…
His fingers brushed the pendant beneath his clothes.
Is this one of them?
Lost in thought, he followed the familiar path his body seemed to remember. As he neared the academy, a voice called out loudly.
"Lukan! Lukan!"
He turned to see the boy from the photograph running toward him.
Fragments of memory surfaced—laughter, arguments, shared days.
Kairn.
But he called him Kai.
"Hey, Kai," Luken said instinctively. "Anything special today?"
"Nothing," Kai replied, stretching. "Boring as always. I was worried about you, though. You seemed off these past few days. Today you look… better."
Luken walked beside him, unease stirring.
So he was struggling before he died…
They soon reached the academy—a massive citadel-like structure that left Luken staring in awe.
Inside, students filled the halls, many wearing long coats. It felt ancient, yet alive. Like a fantasy pulled into reality.
As they walked, Luken asked, "What are your plans after this?"
Kai went quiet for a moment. "You never ask me that. Honestly? I don't know. This island YOSA is all I've ever known.""No one here knows what's outside," Kai continued.
"People are happy pretending there's nothing beyond the sea. That makes me sad."
"You want to leave," Luken said.
Kai nodded. "I want to see the outside world."
"Why doesn't anyone try?" Luken asked.
Kai's voice lowered. "Those who do… don't come back. Or they return dead. So children are raised believing there's nothing beyond the island. A lie."
Kai glanced at him.
"You're usually the one more eager to explore than me. Why ask now?"
Luken smiled faintly. "Because I need answers."
They laughed, but the questions lingered.
Classes passed uneventfully—until artifact studies.
That class held his attention in a way nothing else did.
One topic stood out.
Artifacts capable of removing souls.
The day ended, and the two parted ways. On his walk home, Luken noticed a woman standing near his house.
"Luken," she said softly. "It's been a long time."
"You too," he replied casually.
"Be careful at night," she added.
A chill ran down his spine.
At home, his sister chatted about his day. When he mentioned the artifact lesson, her eyes widened.
"That's scary… but interesting."
Later, lying in bed, the woman's words echoed in his mind.
He pulled aside the curtain.
The streets were dark. Shops closed. Only the moon and stars watched over the island.
Then he noticed something.
Light.
His neighbor's house—the only one still lit.
Through the reflection in the window, he saw the woman and her husband eating.
Then the reflection changed.
The woman lifted a knife.
Splash.
Blood sprayed across the glass. Luken staggered back as the reflection showed her pulling something from her husband—something unseen, unnatural.
Like a soul being torn out.
The lights went out.
Heart pounding, Luken shut the curtain and collapsed onto his bed. His mind raced—not with shock, but with terrifying curiosity.
Who… are you?
Then—
Knock. Knock.
Someone was at the door.
The knocking grew louder.
After what he had seen…
who could possibly be standing there?