Rain had a way of making everything feel heavier than it was.
It pressed against the windows, against the roofs, against the quiet spaces between buildings, filling them with a constant, restless noise that never quite settled. The kind of rain that didn't come and go—but lingered, like it had decided the world wasn't worth leaving just yet.
Kael sat by the window, watching droplets slide down the glass.
They moved slowly at first, gathering themselves, merging with others, before finally falling out of sight. Some raced. Some hesitated. Some never made it all the way down, drying into faint streaks that would be gone by morning.
He didn't know why he kept watching.
Maybe because it gave him something to follow.
Something with direction.
Behind him, the room was dim.
A single bulb hung loosely from the ceiling, flickering every few seconds with a soft buzzing sound that had long since become part of the background. The walls were bare, stained in places where time and neglect had settled in too comfortably. A small bed sat against one corner, sheets slightly wrinkled, like they had been used but never properly fixed.
The desk near the window was cluttered.
Instant noodle cups. A half-empty bottle of water. A few loose coins scattered without purpose. And at the center of it all—a book.
Worn.
Creased at the edges.
Read too many times.
Kael leaned back in his chair, letting it creak under his weight as he exhaled slowly.
The book rested open in his hand.
He had been reading it.
At least, that's what he told himself.
But his eyes had stopped following the words a while ago.
"…Same thing again," he muttered.
His voice was low, barely cutting through the sound of the rain.
Still, it felt loud in the small room.
He flipped the page anyway.
Not because he cared about what came next.
But because stopping felt… unnecessary.
Like closing it would mean admitting something he wasn't ready to think about.
The story was simple.
Predictable.
The kind of story that didn't pretend to surprise you.
A chosen protagonist.
A rising power.
Enemies that existed only to be overcome.
Kael knew how it ended.
He knew how most of it went, actually.
Which characters would rise.
Which ones would fall.
Which ones would disappear without anyone remembering their names.
"…At least they have something to do," he said quietly.
Even the villains.
Even the ones written to lose.
They had purpose.
They mattered—if only for a moment.
The clock on the wall ticked.
8:53 PM.
The second hand moved with mechanical precision, cutting through time in a way that felt almost intentional. Like each second had weight. Like it meant something.
Kael watched it for a while.
Then looked away.
His phone buzzed against the desk.
A short, sharp vibration.
Louder than it should have been.
He reached over and picked it up.
One message.
From his boss.
"You're on early shift tomorrow. Don't be late again."
Kael stared at the screen.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard for a second.
Then lowered.
The phone locked with a soft click.
There wasn't anything to say.
There never was.
Work wasn't difficult.
It wasn't even particularly tiring.
But it drained him in a way he couldn't explain.
Not physically.
Something else.
Something quieter.
Wake up.
Go to work.
Come back.
Eat.
Sleep.
Repeat.
Days blurred together.
Weeks passed without leaving anything behind.
Even memories felt… recycled.
Kael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked down at the book again.
His eyes landed on a name.
Kael Vantoris.
He let out a small breath.
"…Of all names."
The character was barely relevant.
A minor antagonist at best.
Introduced with arrogance.
Removed without consequence.
He remembered the scene clearly.
Too clearly.
The duel.
The confidence.
The way the character spoke like he actually believed he stood a chance.
And then—
Defeat.
Effortless.
Complete.
"…Idiot," Kael muttered.
Not with anger.
Not even with judgment.
Just… observation.
But even then—
Even someone like that—
Had something Kael didn't.
A moment.
The room grew quieter.
Or maybe the rain just felt louder.
Kael closed the book halfway, resting it against his leg as he stood up slowly.
His body stretched instinctively, joints cracking softly as tension released in small, almost insignificant ways.
He walked toward the mirror near the door.
It was slightly crooked, hanging just enough off-center to be noticeable if you paid attention.
Kael stared at his reflection.
There was nothing remarkable about it.
Nothing that stood out.
Average.
That was the word.
Not unattractive.
Not good-looking.
Not memorable.
If someone saw him once, they wouldn't remember him twice.
"…Yeah," he said quietly.
"That sounds about right."
There was no bitterness in his voice.
No frustration.
Just acceptance.
He grabbed his jacket from the chair.
Paused.
Looked back at the window.
The rain hadn't slowed.
If anything, it had gotten worse.
"…I need air."
The hallway outside was dimly lit, the lights spaced too far apart to fully chase away the shadows. The walls carried a faint smell of dampness, mixed with something older—like paint that had given up trying to hold itself together.
Kael walked past closed doors.
No sound from inside.
No voices.
No movement.
It wasn't unusual.
People kept to themselves.
Just like he did.
His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way down the stairs.
Each step deliberate.
Unhurried.
Outside, the cold hit immediately.
Rain soaked through his hair within seconds, droplets running down the side of his face, slipping past his collar.
He didn't stop.
Didn't rush.
The street stretched ahead of him, illuminated unevenly by flickering streetlights. Water pooled along the edges of the road, reflecting distorted versions of the world above.
Cars passed occasionally.
Not many.
Just enough to remind him that things were still moving.
Kael walked.
No destination.
No plan.
His thoughts drifted again.
Back to the novel.
To that world.
To something that felt—
Different.
"…If I were there," he said under his breath, "I wouldn't die like that."
The words sounded strange once they left his mouth.
Empty.
Almost childish.
But he didn't take them back.
"I'd do something different."
The rain fell harder.
Drowning out everything else.
A pair of headlights appeared in the distance.
Faint at first.
Then brighter.
Kael didn't notice.
His mind was somewhere else.
Far removed from the street.
From the rain.
From the moment.
"…At least there," he continued quietly, "things would mean something."
The headlights grew closer.
Too fast.
A horn cut through the night.
Sharp.
Violent.
Kael looked up.
Too late.
There was no time to react.
No time to think.
Just light.
Blinding.
All-consuming.
And then—
Impact.
Pain exploded through him.
Sudden.
Absolute.
The world spun.
Sound collapsed into nothing.
The rain disappeared.
The street vanished.
For a brief moment—
There was no weight.
No thought.
No feeling.
Just silence.
Then—
Darkness.