"How did I forget that I was in a world where there is no place for the weak?"
"This world is filled with hatred, deceit, and conspiracy."
"How did I forget? How?"
Rayan had hoped for darkness.
He had hoped for silence.
He closed his eyes.
Within his mind, countless pains resided. His chest ached, yet no one was beside him.
But when he opened his eyes—he saw a sky with no stars.
It was neither night, nor day.
A gray, endless expanse—as if there was no horizon, no end. Around him, the ground reflected like water, smooth like stone, solid to the touch.
It was not a sea.
Not a broken bridge.
Not the city lights.
Only this place.
A place that felt caught in the middle of breath.
Between life and death.
His chest trembled.
"Am I… dead?"
The question dissolved into the air. No echo returned. As if this world devoured sound itself.
He stood, legs shaking—not from fear, but from exhaustion.
Not the body's exhaustion.
The soul's exhaustion.
"You are not dead."
The voice came—from nowhere, yet from everywhere.
Rayan froze.
The air before him quivered. From the interplay of light and shadow, a shape slowly formed—neither fully human, nor fully divine.
Its face held no anger.
No mercy.
Only—absolute stillness.
"Who… are you?" Rayan's voice was weak.
"I am a messenger," the figure said. "I am a witness."
"A witness to what?"
"To those whose story ends before it truly finishes."
The words pierced his chest like knives.
Rayan smiled bitterly.
"My story has ended. There was nothing left to finish."
Fortune never closes all paths for a human.
"This world is never completely hopeless or helpless; only those who have lost hope think so."
"The key to solving any problem is always in our own hands."
"When we look within ourselves, we find that miraculous, divine power has always been within us."
"To discover yourself, to know yourself, and to rely on yourself—that is the true path."
The messenger inclined its head slightly.
"Are you sure?"
Memories returned. Failures. Rejections. Words left unspoken. Tears hidden in the nights.
He did not want to die.
He only wanted the pain to stop.
"I was so tired," he whispered.
The gray horizon trembled faintly.
"In your world," the messenger said, "time moves one-way. One life. One chance. One ending."
But humans do not take that chance.
Humans are the finest beings—but now, they are worse than beasts.
That is why I hate them.
The messenger continued.
"I will give you unlimited life."
Rayan froze.
"Every life, you will be reborn. Different family. Different circumstances. Different suffering."
His throat went dry.
"This is your punishment, messenger?"
"Will I remember this place?" he asked.
"No," said the messenger.
The answer was firm, clear.
"In each life, you will forget this place. You will forget me. You will even forget that one day you fell—everything will be gone from memory."
Rayan trembled inside.
"Then what's the point?" he asked.
"If I forget, it's just another life!"
The messenger's eyes deepened.
"Because after every life ends—whether by natural death or unnatural—the moment you will return here."
The gray world grew heavy.
"You will stand in this very place. As you are standing now. And you will remember everything."
Rayan's breathing quickened.
"And then?"
"You will say—how you lived. What you learned. Where you erred."
In each life, there will be pain, sorrow, joy.
But the circumstances must be prepared for you.
"I hate humans most," the messenger said.
The stone glowed.
Rayan stared at it.
It was so small.
Yet its weight was immense.
"Why me?" he asked.
The messenger did not pause.
"Because your pain is not emptiness."
Rayan's chest trembled.
"It is potential."
Silence.
Unlimited life means unlimited death.
Unlimited loss.
Unlimited love.
Unlimited heartbreak.
"What happens after unlimited life?" he asked.
The messenger's voice was calm.
"That depends on what you become."
The answer unsettled him.
He looked at his hands.
"What if I fail again?"
"You will fail," the messenger said honestly.
"In some lives, you will be worse than before. You will cause the suffering of others."
Rayan shivered.
"But in some lives, you may be the reason someone survives."
The gray sky shimmered with soft light.
Something unknown stirred within him.
Not hope.
But a question.
"What if I refuse?"
The stone's light dimmed.
"You cannot refuse," the messenger said.
No threat.
Only truth.
Rayan closed his eyes.
He remembered that cold night air. That empty chest. The strange comfort of the moment he jumped.
He did not want to die.
He only did not want to feel unnecessary.
His eyes welled up.
"I did not want to die," he whispered.
"I just did not want to feel like I mattered to no one."
The messenger came closer.
"In unlimited life, you will learn—you matter."
The stone floated toward him.
Slowly.
Gently.
Rayan hesitated.
Unlimited life means unlimited potential.
Perhaps in one life he will be powerful.
Perhaps in one life cruel.
Perhaps in one life he will love deeply.
Perhaps in one life, utterly alone.
But if he refuses—
There will be no questions left.
Only the end.
His fingers touched the stone.
Warm.
Alive.
The gray horizon began to shatter like glass.
"You will forget," the messenger's voice receded.
"But your soul will remember the weight of choice."
The ground crumbled.
"What if I make mistakes?" Rayan asked one last time.
The messenger's final answer echoed:
"Then maybe in life, you will understand—why."
Everything filled with light.
No gray sky.
No messenger.
No stone.
No memory.
Only blinding light.
And far away—
The cry of a newborn.