Iren regains consciousness very slowly.
At first, he feels no pain.
Pain arrives late—as if even his body can't tell whether he's alive at all.
Fog surrounds him.
The street corner is unfamiliar.
Dawn is rising in the sky, but the sun itself is nowhere to be seen.
He tries to move his hand.
There is no strength in it.
His body doesn't feel heavy—
it feels empty.
As if something has been taken from inside him.
And at the same time, as if something has been put in—
something that isn't his.
Iren lowers his gaze to his hands.
There is no blood.
That frightens him the most.
Because he clearly remembers—
he was falling.
His body had stopped responding.
Then… nothing.
The time in between is black.
When he returns home, no one says anything.
His mother only looks at him.
A little longer than usual.
Then she asks—
"Are you hungry?"
Iren shakes his head.
He doesn't feel hunger.
He doesn't feel anything.
While eating, the spoon slips from his hand.
The sound feels unbearably loud.
His mother startles.
His father looks up.
Iren says, "Sorry."
But he doesn't know—
what he is apologizing for.
That night—
he wakes again.
But this time, he doesn't sit up.
He just stares at the ceiling.
Suddenly, he feels—
he isn't alone.
Somewhere inside, very deep—
something is breathing.
It doesn't speak.
It doesn't smile.
It simply exists.
Iren whispers,
"What did you do?"
No answer comes.
But a strange warmth spreads through his chest—
not fear.
Not hunger.
It feels like satisfaction without memory.
Iren turns onto his side.
Closes his eyes.
He decides—he won't go out again.
But the darkness knows—
this is a lie.
Far away, on the other side of the city—
the commanding general stands by a window.
On his desk, a report.
One line in red ink—
"Target escaped.
Estimated age: Child."
He folds the paper.
Says quietly—
"Child of Devil…"
The words remain trapped in the room.
And that night—
Iren dreams.
In the dream, he stands in darkness.
A door in front of him.
Something is waiting on the other side.
No one calls to him.
Yet he feels—
once he enters, there will be no return.
In his sleep, Iren whispers,
"I don't know what I am…"
The darkness does not answer.
It only—
comes closer.