《World Insanity | Slow Burn Fantasy Horror | Psychological Realism》


 S01: "New Tragedy" Chapter 1

    What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of a purpose? Then what does it mean to be human? These questions haunt me lately. Not like ghosts but more like salesmen trying to sell me their products. Relentless. Annoying. Socrates preached the virtue of self-reflection. But what if the mirror only shows emptiness? What if the examined life is just as hollow as a rotted log?


    A life without purpose is like a coffee cup filled with shit. You can still call it coffee, but everyone knows it¡¯s shit. Nobody wants it.


    And no¡­ I am not a philosopher and not trying to become one. I still use Google and Reddit to get some answers. One thing we may have in common? Unemployment. That, and time. So much time. We got so much time doing nothing, and it turns out it infected our brain with an existential crisis virus. That makes us ask, Why are we here? What¡¯s the purpose of life? Dumb questions really, but it still stuck inside my mind. And I have no answer for it.


    At least real philosophers get paid to be confused. I do it for free. While they get famous after that. I am still just¡­ Unemployed. Unwanted. Unappreciated. The three U¡¯s of modern existence. Which I don''t think I need to proud of.


    Yeah... I wonder what my father would think about me. A failed son. Would he still smile and cheer me up like he used to? Probably, not right?


    Maybe this is a sign. I need to do something. Anything. Not only just thinking.


    Just like that, morning is coming. Alarm is ringing. But I am still lying in the bed. My body is stiff as rusted hinges. Just like a robot that lacks maintenance. My bedsheet smells like rotten flesh. That kind of persuaded me to wake up and do something about it.


    So, I did. Changed it to a new one and tossed the old into the laundry basket. It also changed the atmosphere around. A little bit better, I think? However, the room still fully reeked of me. Then what now? I don¡¯t have anything to do. Do some leisure thing? Heck, I don¡¯t have a TV or internet access, so YouTube and Netflix are out of options too. But also, I don¡¯t want to go outside. It will be cold as hell, and I don¡¯t want to go outside unless I really need to do so.


    I lay back down on my now clean-smelling bed. Staring at walls and ceiling. It was empty. Just like my life. Or at least that''s what I felt about it. The kind of emptiness that wasn''t just about the room, but something different... like a shadow that slowly eating me alive. An endless hole with nothing to fill it.


    Maybe I should eat something. Maybe I should get up. Maybe I should stop thinking in circles and actually do something for once.


    ...


    Yeah. Or maybe I should just rot here. That sounded easier.


    I was still lost in that thought when someone knocked on my door. The knock came again¡ªand again, and again. The doorframe trembled. Dust drifted down like snow. And I didn¡¯t move. Because somehow, I already knew who was behind it...


    ¡°Ryan¡­ Are you there?¡± The voice from the outside called my name.


    Of course, I am. You think I¡¯m at some nightclub blowing my life savings? Oh wait¡­ I don¡¯t have any. However, I don¡¯t say it out loud.


    I answer casually, ¡°Yeah, Wait a minute please¡­¡±


    Then I woke up. Again. Take a better shirt and pants in the drawer while also throwing away some trash along the way. I felt like doing some involuntary workout. Well, not a bad thing, right? But for some reason this makes me feel old because my joints will creak every time I move. Does this suggest that I should sign up for a gym membership?


    After half-assed cleaning and throwing on clothes. I open the door. It was my old friend, Jason. He had travelled quite far from his place to come here. Rare occurrence, a bit of surprise in the morning.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± I said to him.


    Jason wrinkled his nose. ¡°Christ, Ryan. It reeks like a dumpster in here.¡± He stepped inside eyeing the pizza boxes like they were crime scene evidence.


    ¡°How long has it been?¡± He asked in a noisy, condescending tone while giving me a strange look.


    ¡°Since what? My last shower? Job interview?¡± I said annoyed with his gesture.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve just been rotting in this shithole?¡± He asked again, this time his words stung me.


    But it is not wrong, though. It is true for at least a week, I think? I don¡¯t go anywhere except when I need to buy some groceries.


    ¡°Is that a problem?¡± I said.


    Then he looked at me. His gaze sharpened¡ªlike a hawk locking onto prey. Last time he looked at me that way, I owed him $200. Ah¡­ I did not yet pay him back.


    So, he is here to ask for some money? Well, let''s find out. ¡°Did you bother coming here to collect the $200 I borrowed last time?¡±


    This time he seemed confused and said, ¡°That''s one thing; there''s something else I want to talk about. You got a minute?¡±


    Since I have nothing to do and don¡¯t have any reason to refuse. I waved him in. He dragged a chair from the desk, its legs screeching against the floor, and sat. While I sat on the bed facing him.


    ¡°Have you got a new job?¡± He asked.


    I shrugged. ¡°You can guess.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ still nothing?¡±


    As usual, his words were straight to the point. But then he leaned forward. ¡°An editor at NexusPage needs writers. For a new serialization.¡±


    The words hung in the air. A tempting offer. A real chance. But¡­


    ¡°No, thanks, Jason. I¡¯m done with writing for now. Just¡­ tired.¡±


    His jaw slackened. He stared at me like I¡¯d swapped faces with his ex-girlfriend.


    ¡°Really? Are you the same Ryan I know?¡± He looked flabbergasted.


    Something that wasn''t entirely out of my expectations. His reaction was priceless. It was the first time I''d seen him genuinely surprised in ages


    ¡°I am. Do you think I am doppelg?nger?¡± I asked jokingly.


    He scratched his chin. Then asked, ¡°Is this Ryan, the same person who has been pursuing his dream of becoming a writer for almost 10 years? The one who called it his ¡®life¡¯s purpose¡¯ and suddenly now¡­ lost interest?¡±


    Typical of an old friend¡ªdigging up graves I¡¯d buried. If only memory had a delete key. Wouldn''t that make our lives easier?


    ¡°Forget it,¡± I said. ¡°I already have.¡±


    He pressed a palm to my forehead. ¡°Are you sick? Or¡­ has something cracked in there?¡±


    Does he think I''m crazy? Well... he''s not entirely wrong if he thinks so. Maybe I''m already at that stage. The same stage as Socrates, Aristotle and Diogenes. The stage of realization. Although of in my case it was a lower quality like a dollar-store epiphany, but still.


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    ¡°I just realized that I can''t stay in the cocoon of my dreams forever. Reality makes me reconsider my life''s purpose.¡±


    He stunned, ¡°You''ve really changed since our last meeting. Did something happen?¡± He asked, his face still full of disbelief.


    I remember it. The time when someone believed in me. Telling me that I can reach the highest stars. But unfortunately, this world is not about me. Everything can change. And change is abrupt. Humans hate that. We¡¯d rather chew glass than admit life¡¯s a roulette wheel.


    ¡°I told you,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ll never understand.¡±


    He tilted his head. ¡°Normal people don¡¯t use excuses like that.¡±


    Good point. Never felt like one. A bizarre human, with a bizarre mind.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯m not,¡± I said.


    He shook his head slightly before saying, ¡°Have you thought about it carefully? Throwing everything away? Will that solve the problem?¡±


    Because I could feel that he was quite worried, ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it. Deeply.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± He sighed, the sound of a man negotiating with a brick wall. ¡°Take the card. For old times¡¯ sake.¡± He then pulled out his wallet, leather creaking like a rusty hinge. ¡°Call him if you wake up tomorrow feeling human again.¡±


    But it seems he wasn''t just giving me the business card; he gave me something else...


    ¡°This is for your phone. $250¡ªenough for three months. Three months of¡­ whatever this is.¡± He said as he handed me $250.


    I stared at him, confused. Why was he handing me money all of a sudden? I haven''t even paid the last I owed him yet. Then why does he give me more money now? Doesn¡¯t make sense at all. Or did he think I just open donation?


    ¡°I¡¯m not your charity case, Jason.¡± I said to him. Sharp with irritation.


    He flinched but quickly hardened his expression. ¡°Call it a Christmas gift. You remember Christmas, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I didn¡¯t. That explains why the weather is so cold now. Even then, I don¡¯t want to accept that kind of money. Yes, I am unemployed. But not a beggar. That''s a different thing. I still have pride in myself.


    ¡°Nah, you can keep it.¡± I said, pushing away both the cash and the business card in his hand.


    His face darkened. Anger. Did I say something wrong? Was I doing something wrong? Before I could figure it out, he grabbed my hand forcefully, shoving the money and card into my palm.


    ¡°Just take it,¡± he snapped. ¡°I¡¯m not arguing with you, so don¡¯t make this harder than it has to be.¡±


    I felt it. A pity. In his eyes. In the way he talked. I don''t like it. I hated it. It made me feel small. And Pathetic.


    So, I pulled my hand away and threw all the money and business card on the floor. It scattered everywhere, like useless paper and plastic. No different than trash.


    ¡°I don''t need your pity. You can give that money to someone else.¡± I said as I looked at his eyes. Narrowed. Lips tighten. And a face. Felt like saddened.


    Without another word, he bent down and started picking up the scattered items. Slowly, deliberately, he placed them on my desk. And the silence between us. It felt heavier. Something pressed on my chest. Hard to breathe


    Then he turned to look at me, his gaze steady. ¡°I may have a decent job and a stable life now, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve forgotten our promise¡ªto Ellen, and to your father.¡±


    Stop... Don¡¯t remind me... Please, Jason...


    ¡°So, one day we can go to their graves and tell them, we achieved our dream. Our promise. Ellen believed in you, Ryan. Even when things got tough, she never stopped, and your father... He can finally be proud after all the struggles you went through.¡±


    I know... You don¡¯t need to tell me... I... I... Remember it...


    ¡°I hope that happens sooner,¡± he added softly, almost pleading. ¡°Because I believe in you too, my friend. Just like Ellen and your father did. Don¡¯t throw that away.¡±


    And then he left. Vanished, really¡ªlike a ghost who¡¯d come only to stir up old wounds and leave me drowning in unwanted memories again. Maybe... maybe this was just a dream. A nightmare dredged up from the past. Yet, refusing to let me go. Tell me it¡¯s just a dream. Yeah, it was just a dream...


    I close my eyes, lying on the bed. Everything feels heavy. My head. My body. My breath. Am I drowning? Falling? I don¡¯t know anymore. Just darkness. Slowly. Swallowing me whole. Consume me. Giving me peace at last.


    Hours passed¡ªor maybe minutes. I don¡¯t know. What¡¯s the difference, really? Time had lost all meaning. My body felt weak. My throat raw. I opened my eyes. Same ceiling. Same emptiness. Alone in this suffocating stillness.


    I reached for my phone. Battery almost dead. 07:00 PM. Half a day, gone. That explained why my body felt drained, why my throat burned. I needed food. Water. Even though I wasn¡¯t hungry. Wasn¡¯t thirsty. A mortal curse¡ªone I couldn''t escape.


    When I sat up, I saw it. The $250 bill. The business cards. Sitting on my desk. As much as I wanted it to be a dream, reality always hit harder. And since the money was there¡­ I guess I had to use it, right? Even though I refused it before because of my pride. Starving won¡¯t prove anything.


    It''s not like I had to return it. Jason forced it on me first.


    The only thing left in my kitchen was instant noodles. Not enough. So that¡¯s it, then. I changed into a sweater, trousers, a coat. Stepped outside. Because there was nothing left to do in my apartment. Nothing but count the cracks in the walls.


    Maybe the cold air would clear my head. Maybe not. Who knows?


    I left my rundown, cheap apartment behind¡ªonly to be greeted by an unusual crowd. Too unusual. People looked¡­ cheerful. A couple laughing, lost in their own world. A family walking together, perfectly in sync, like something out of a postcard. Did I step onto a different planet? Or did everyone just hit their heads at the same time?


    Then I saw him. The bearded man in red and white. The legendary Santa Claus. Of course. That explains everything. The festive mood, the laughter, the warmth in the air. It¡¯s Christmas. No wonder the world feels¡­ unreal. But it doesn¡¯t explain why I can¡¯t feel the same. They laughed and smiled like nothing else mattered. Maybe they were right. Or maybe they were just better at pretending than I was.


    Thinking like this only makes me hungrier. So, I went to the local burger shop. Crowded, more than usual. But whatever. I bought a couple of burgers and a Coke. If there''s one thing I can actually appreciate about Christmas, it''s the special discounts. A small win in the grand scheme of a miserable life.


    After I finished filling my stomach, I stepped out of the burger shop. But I didn¡¯t head home. Not yet. Home only reminded me of things I didn¡¯t want to remember. The weight of guilt. The people I¡¯ve let down. Myself included.


    So, I walked. Through streets filled with warmth, laughter, and the glow of Christmas lights. Past the cheerful faces, the ringing bells, and the gaze of Santa Claus. Until I found it. A place untouched by all of this. A park, empty and silent. Forgotten. Abandoned. Overlooked.


    Like looking into a mirror. A place that shares my fate.


    There¡¯s a bench beneath a large, shadowed tree. A park lamp stands nearby, casting a dying glow. A perfect arrangement. I walk over and sit. The night wind slips through my clothes, cool against my skin. Moonlight washes over me. And for a moment¡ªjust a moment¡ªI feel lighter. Like the weight in my chest has eased, if only slightly. This place really... it suits me. Perfectly.


    I slowly thought about what Jason said earlier. He gave me another chance. Do I even have the courage to take it? I don¡¯t think I has such courage.


    Since I realized. That my dream was poison. The more I chased it, the more it drained me, bled me dry. Maybe this is just how it is. Some dreams aren¡¯t meant to be reached. Some things are better left behind. But...


    There were people who believed in me. Who never wavered, even when everything crumbled. They held onto that belief until their last breath. And I... I promised them.


    It¡¯s been years since I visited my father¡¯s grave. I''m too ashamed to go there. I always remember where he continued to work after his retirement. Because I am his failed son. Unemployed and pursuing an impossible dream. Seeing his sweat, his smile when he cheered me on. A debt I could never repay him.


    I can still see him bent over the kitchen table late at night, poring over bills with tired eyes. His hands calloused, ink-stained from working overtime shifts long after retirement. He¡¯d look up and catch me watching, then grin like nothing mattered except seeing me succeed. ¡°You¡¯ll get there,¡± he¡¯d say, ruffling my hair. And I¡¯d nod, pretending I believed him.


    Maybe if I didn''t force myself to be a writer. I could give him a more decent retirement. He could be more at ease than having to worry about his useless child.


    It''s just that, becoming a writer is the result of my own promise. That''s why I''m scared every time I think about Ellen. She was the one who always told me that I had a talent for writing. She has helped me a lot. Even though I am too stupid to be able to use her help. One of her words I can never forget, "Your writing is beautiful. I can feel the things you want to express through it. Others might not understand it, but I do. I feel it."


    But it seems she saw it wrong. I have no talent whatsoever. Like a clown chasing an impossible dream, fooling no one but himself. For that I slowly threw away my dream. Reality made me realize that indeed, I am a clown. Because I keep deceiving myself.


    My chest tightened as I thought about her smile. As she lay with her body that slowly got weaker each day. The cancer eating up her life like it was nothing. Even then, she encouraged me. Yeah¡­ In that condition, I still made her worry. Truly pathetic. It was me¡ªthe one who cried in front of her.


    My hands trembled, fingers curling into fists. What would she say if she saw me now? Would she still believe in me? Or would she finally see what everyone else does: a failure masquerading as a dreamer.


    Even though I once promised, one day Jason and I would visit her grave together. Where we will fulfil our promise as three of us. Jason with his dream of being a famous lawyer. Me who will be a successful writer. And Ellen who wants to see me and Jason achieve our dreams together. That was her last wish. Her dream. More than anything.


    But I am worry that would never happen. While Jason now is kind of succeed with his career as new lawyer. But I am the failed one. The living miserable. Probably it was better if I am the one whose gone. At least, my father doesn¡¯t need to have a failed son and Ellen... She probably would have a good life considering her ability and personality.


    In a better story, I wouldn¡¯t exist at all. Just silence where my name should be.

 S01: "New Tragedy" Chapter 2

    I stared at the sky. There wasn''t a single star to be seen. Only the moon hung there. Bright. Cold. Alone. She wasn¡¯t part of the noise below. Just an outsider. Watching. Silent. Below, the streets buzzed. With Santa Clauses walking here and there. Fake smiles everywhere. It all felt hollow, like plastic wrapped around a broken gift.


    The contrast between her silent glow and the chaotic noise below made me sick. All this fake happiness felt¡­ like illusion. like watching puppets dance on frayed strings. Or was I the broken one? Maybe I have never set my feet on the ground.


    Or maybe I just hated Christmas. It wasn¡¯t about gifts or family or any of that crap. It was about the masks people wore. Pretending everything was okay when deep down, we were all broken in our own ways. Some of us just hid it better than others.


    And here I was. Staring at the moon. Feeling like her. Forgotten. Overlooked.


    Lonely. The food that I ate every day. I knew it well. Too well. Like her, I felt out of place. Watching from the sidelines. Everyone else moving on with their lives. Pretending everything was fine.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who feels invisible.¡± I said. Talking to myself¡ªor maybe to her. It sounded stupid. But it made me feel less alone for a moment. Less like the odd one out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± I said again. Quieter this time. ¡°You¡¯re not alone.¡±


    My voice sounded hollow, even to me. But somehow, saying it made my chest feel lighter. A little better. Not much, though. But I wasn¡¯t sure if I was talking to her¡ªor to myself.


    My mind was still a storm. Like the Pacific Ocean¡ªvast, untamable. Waves crashing against invisible shores. Too big. Too fierce. Too deep. Alone. Always alone. No amount of time or meditation could calm this sea inside me. Some days, I wonder if anything ever will.


    Then I saw him. From a distance, like a misplaced puzzle piece. Classic clothing¡ªa leather coat, waistcoat, cravat. Antique. Expensive. He walked with a cane, slow but deliberate. Each step echoed on the pavement like a clock ticking backward. What a strange taste.


    He looks more like a Victorian-era cosplayer. Or even a time traveller. Yeah, that''s a wild guess. Why should I care about other people''s looks? My own clothes are cheap¡ªsecond-hand hand-me-downs from my father. Threadbare sweaters and worn-out jeans. What right do I have to judge someone else¡¯s outfit? At least he didn¡¯t mistake a velvet curtain for a waistcoat.


    But something about him felt¡­ off. Not the clothes. Not the cane. It was the way he moved. Purposeful. Calculating. And then I realized¡ªhe was looking at me. Staring, really. Unblinking. As if he¡¯d been searching for me all along.


    He approached slowly. Measured. Unhurried. Closer. And closer. Until I could see his face. Middle-aged. Sharp features. A top hat, perched like a relic from another century.


    His eyes locked onto mine. Piercing through the fog in my brain.


    It felt wrong. Strange. Like a ghost. Like a figure dragged straight out of history books.


    Unreal. Yet undeniably real.


    Finally, he stood beside me. ¡°Good evening,¡± he said. His voice was soft, smooth¡ªlike melting chocolate. It sounded irresistible. Hypnotic, even.


    I froze. Surprised. Did I do something that irritate him? No, I don¡¯t think so.


    So, I replied, ¡°Good evening.¡± Polite. Simple.


    But in rather, after hearing what I said. He smiled. Not a big smile¡ªjust a tiny bend at the corners of his mouth. Then he asked, ¡°Can I sit next to you?¡± His tone was warm, inviting. Like he already knew the answer.


    Weird. This park was empty and barren. It was empty as the night sky above. There were plenty of other empty seats. But for some reason he wanted to sit next to me? Don''t tell me he is a freak? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.


    My mind was already full¡ªtoo full. And now there¡¯s this stranger in old-fashioned clothes. Who is he? What does he want? Before I could figure it out or say anything, he just sat down. Right next to me. Close enough that I could smell the faint scent of leather from his coat. He smiled again, faintly.


    ¡°Your mind must feel heavy,¡± he said suddenly. His voice dropped lower, quieter. ¡°So heavy that only the dark night can calm you.¡±


    I froze. Confused. Yeah, totally confused. My mouth moved before my brain caught up ¡°Sorry? Do you... know me?"¡±


    Just in case. If he turned out to be someone from my past.


    But right now? Only Jason still kept in touch. The rest¡ªgone. Just like dust. Carried away by the wind. Scattered. Forgotten. And honestly? I never cared much for them either. So, nothing lost.


    He smirked. Unfazed. ¡°You may not know me. But I know you well enough, Mr. Ryan.¡±


    That stopped me cold. My body tensed. Heart pounding. Who the hell is this guy?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he added. Grinning like a hyena. ¡°I just want to talk for a moment.¡±


    His words seemed meant to calm me down. But they didn¡¯t. Instead, my mind screamed. What does he want? It¡¯s not like I owe anyone. No unpaid debts. Nothing. Well, except Jason¡ªbut even then, he gave me more money.


    So, I asked, ¡°What do you want from me?¡± At least I¡¯ll try asking first. Better safe than sorry, right?


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you tired of this world?¡± He replied. Stroking the cane, he held. It was shaped like a wolf made by silver? Aluminum? Expensive, whatever it was.


    Can he read minds? No. I¡¯m alone in this deserted park. Anyone could draw that conclusion. But that doesn¡¯t explain how he knows my name. Wait¡ªis he some kind of spy? Government agent? Nah, no one from the CIA dresses like they¡¯re auditioning for a steampunk movie.


    But why is he looking for me? Who is this guy?


    If this were an F1 race, my thoughts would¡¯ve lapped Lewis Hamilton by now. My mind racing. Spinning. Searching for answers. What does he want?


    At that moment, he seemed to sense my doubts.


    ¡°For a writer,¡± he said, sharp gaze piercing through me, ¡°you¡¯re quite the overthinker.¡±


    My body tensed. Ready to jump. Hearing my name was one thing. But knowing I¡¯m a writer? That¡¯s different story. Oddly too specific. There¡¯s only one explanation¡ªhe¡¯s been digging into my life. Watching. Waiting. Until now.


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    But why? What¡¯s his goal?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know you. What do you want?¡± I replied. Preparing my feet. Ready to run if things got weird.


    ¡°I have an offer.¡± He replied. Then he took something out of his pocket. ¡°Which might be what you''ve been looking for.¡±


    It was a black box. Expensive-looking. Gold carvings etched into its surface. Intricate. Not too big¡ªabout the size of my fist.


    Because I was confused, I immediately asked ¡°What is that box? You gave it to me?¡± He seemed to hold back laughter. Then placed the box on the bench. Right between us.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you hate this world?¡± he said, chuckling softly. ¡°I can show you a new world. A place where you truly belong.¡± His words twisted like riddles. Encrypted. Unreadable.


    I didn¡¯t understand. So, I asked, ¡°What do you mean? A new world?¡±


    ¡°It would be easier to explain if you looked at the night sky. What can you see?¡± He tilted his head upward, staring at the stars¡ªor lack thereof.


    I already knew the answer. Before he arrived, I¡¯d stared at the same sky. Empty. Useless.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I said. ¡°Just the moon. And maybe some clouds.¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± he replied. Annoyingly smug. ¡°There are stars there. You just can¡¯t see them.¡±


    I didn¡¯t get it. Why was he talking in circles? Why not just say what he meant? His clothes were strange enough. Now his words too?


    ¡°The stars are useless,¡± I shot back. Pointing at the sky. ¡°What¡¯s the point of having stars if you can¡¯t see them?¡±


    But he smiled. Like he¡¯d won some invisible argument. ¡°Because you¡¯re looking at it wrong. It¡¯s not the stars¡¯ fault you can¡¯t see them.¡± Then he pointed at the ground. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re in the wrong place.¡±


    ¡°So, what does that have to do with me?¡± I asked. Confused. Frustrated. He wasn¡¯t explaining anything. Just throwing more riddles my way.


    He tilted his head. Mocking me now. ¡°Why are you so stupid? Aren¡¯t you a writer? Or have you been pretending all this time?¡±


    Yeah, okay. Fine. If I were great, I¡¯d already be published. Famous. Whatever. But still¡ªcalling someone stupid to their face? That¡¯s just cruel. Even if he¡¯s right.


    ¡°Are you here just to insult me?¡± I replied. Trying to stay calm. Civilized. Yeah, at least I''m a civilized idiot.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, pointing at me. ¡°You¡¯re a star in the wrong place. Your light can¡¯t shine here. But I can take you somewhere else. Somewhere brighter.¡±


    Then he slowly pointed to the sky. ¡°Brighter than the moon. Brighter than the sun.¡±


    What does he mean? Move out of town? It doesn¡¯t make sense. None of it.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. Are you trying to sell me something?¡± His attitude screamed salesman. The type who sells high hopes with sweet words. Making people hallucinate before buying crap they don¡¯t need.


    ¡°Not quite,¡± he replied. Standing up slowly. ¡°I offer you a choice. You are the chosen one. It¡¯s up to you.¡± He gestured toward the black box on the bench. ¡°Take it if you want. Free. No fees. No strings attached.¡±


    I stayed quiet. Processing. What is happening? Who is this guy? Finally, I asked, ¡°Why are you doing all this?¡±


    He paused. Half-turned, already walking away. Smiled mysteriously.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re special. Though I think you¡¯d disagree.¡±


    Then he walked off. But halfway through, he stopped again. Turned his head slightly.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± he said. ¡°Your dream isn¡¯t dead. Or lost. It¡¯s still there. Inside you.¡±


    And then he was gone. Just like that. A bit anticlimactic


    That¡¯s how I ended up alone again. In this empty park. With a mysterious box. No idea what¡¯s inside. Today felt scripted. Like someone wrote it just to mess with me.


    Jason showed up out of nowhere in the morning. Dragging up old problems I wanted buried. Then came the stranger. With antique clothes. Weird words. I couldn¡¯t decipher. And now this box.


    Maybe this is my unlucky day. Another one. Just like before. I want to forget it.


    The night was getting late. So, I decided to go home. The streets weren¡¯t as crowded as earlier, but people still passed by. Laughing. Smiling. Looking happy. Like they¡¯d had a great day. Well, maybe I should pretend too. Pretend everything¡¯s fine. For now. Because I brought the box. The strange box from the strange person. To be honest, it''s more because it just looks expensive.


    I haven''t opened it yet but who knows, maybe it''s jewellery? A watch? Anything that''s valuable. At least if I don''t need it, I can sell it, right? But then I thought again. Expecting too much feels dangerous. So, I stopped. Didn¡¯t want to think about it anymore.


    When I arrived at my apartment, reality hit me. Hard. This place... Full of mess. Smells like a dumpster. Yes, maybe that''s true. Because this is like a dump. And I¡¯m the trash. No matter how much I clean, it still smells. Still feels wrong. That''s why I hate reality.


    Because I can''t run away from it. It feels like being imprisoned.


    I changed clothes. Cleaned up some trash. Swept the room. Not because I cared. Just¡­ something to do. Then I remembered Jason¡¯s money. The $250 he gave me. I had to plan my expenses. Be smart about it. Now, with his money, I bought new mobile data. Checked my phone.


    Turns out, Jason tried contacting me days ago. A ton of messages. Unanswered calls. Explains why he was so angry when he showed up. Ohh... looks like he just proposed to his girlfriend? He looks happy. Seeing it makes me... happy? He¡¯s my friend. Since forever. But our fates are different.


    Now he has a good career. His life is better than mine. Even a partner. Maybe they¡¯ll get married soon. Then have his own family. I should be happy too, right? I should be happy for him, right? Even if it feels like a lie.


    Yeah¡­ I envy him. Is that normal? Being jealous of your friend? The one who¡¯s always there for you? Who helps without hesitation? Even though I¡¯m trash. This thought makes me feel worse than trash.


    Maybe that¡¯s why he pitied me. Why he gave me money. His life is smooth. Perfect. While mine? Crappy. Broken. He must feel burdened. Having a friend like me. A living weight. Someone who can¡¯t do anything.


    Then I saw the business card Jason gave me. Mr. Jacky. Editor at NexusPage. I remember NexusPage is a new platform that is aggressively expanding its market. Novels, comics¡ªthey¡¯re everywhere now. It seems like this scale is much bigger than I imagined.


    I used to write on KingsRoad. Until three months ago. Well, if I don''t do too well on KingsRoad. Even there, I wasn¡¯t great. Barely scraping by. How could my work pass editorial selection on a platform like NexusPage? My decision to quit wasn¡¯t just because I was tired. It was worse than that. I realized how bad my talent for putting words together was. And isn¡¯t that the one thing a writer has to be good at?


    But then¡­ I remembered the stranger. The one from earlier. He knew too much. About me. About my dreams. I turned toward the mysterious black box. Still sitting on my bed where I left it. Picked it up. Held it in my hands. His words came back to me.


    ¡°A new world.¡±


    ¡°A place where you belong.¡±


    It sounded tempting. Too tempting. If this could free me from the chains of this shitty reality¡­ I¡¯d do anything.


    Slowly, I opened the box. Inside matched the outside¡ªluxurious. Elegant carvings lined the interior. Then I saw it. A card. Strange. Unfamiliar.


    The card said ¡°Dream¡± at the top. Simple enough.


    There was a figure on it. No face. Just¡­ floating. In some starry night sky. Stars everywhere. Too many to count. Beautiful. Surprisingly so. Its arms were wrapped around something. A glow. Small. Soft. Like orbs. Precious. Like it mattered more than anything else.


    Behind it, two circles spun. Big ones. One was bright¡ªcolours jumping out like RGB lights. The other? Dark. Muted. Flickering like a dying bulb. Fog swirled around them. Thick. Heavy. Everything felt¡­ wrong. Quiet but unsettling.


    I stared at it too long. My chest tightened. What the hell is this supposed to mean? Some kind of fancy tarot card? But if I looked closer¡ªit did look expensive. High-quality. Not cheap junk.


    Dream card. In the hands of a failed dreamer. How poetic. Feels like a third-rate novel plot. What happened next? Will I get a system-based progression? Regression to the past? Reincarnation as the youngest son? Or the classic¡ªtransported to another world?


    I¡¯ve read too many brainrot tropes. Power fantasies, all of them. Stories where the main character is nothing but a mannequin. Their only "personality" is being OP.


    Ahh¡­ This reminds me of the jargon. ¡°SSS-Class hunter,¡± ¡°Regressed,¡± ¡°Youngest Son,¡± ¡°Max-Level,¡± ¡°Necromancer,¡± ¡°Reincarnated.¡±


    And here I was. Once poured hours into research for my stories. Even went to the city library for sources. I studied Greek mythology. Ancient Greek philosophers. All that effort¡­ defeated by stories about protagonists with shiny SSS ranks or reincarnated into youngest son.


    Yeah, those personality-deficient protagonists. Beating my story. My attempt at creating a more ¡°human¡± main character. Sometimes it makes me wonder. Is it me? Am I the problem as a writer? Or are readers really like this? Do they just want power fantasies?


    Thoughts like these made me stop writing. Different views. Different perspectives. My head hurts thinking about it.


    So, I lay back down on the bed. The strange card still in my hand. Looked at it again. Yeah, there¡¯s something¡­ off about it. A weird feeling. I put it back on the desk.


    My mind wandered again. If I were the main character¡­ I¡¯d be the most boring one. Trash. Pathetic. Forgettable. Even in my wildest dreams. I¡¯d still be an extra. A nameless nobody.


    And so, I slowly close my eyes. Hoping. Tomorrow I can forget all of this.

 S01: "New Tragedy" Chapter 3

    It''s empty. Meaningless. Full of darkness. Yeah, my dream turned out to be¡­ nothing. But I can feel peace. Strange, isn¡¯t it? While I''m slowly being devoured. By endless. Painless. Darkness.


    I found it. The place I was looking for. Please. Devour me whole. Don''t let me wake up. In that painful world again. It hurts. My heart bleeds. Broken apart. There is a hole. All over my body. I wonder. Am I still human? Alive? This pain is slowly fading away.


    Then it came, a strange sensation. It felt like a gentle breeze, soft and light. Penetrating my skin pores. My hair lifted slightly, carried away by the fresh air. Warmth followed, wrapping around me like sunlight on a summer day. This was the first time in a dream that everything felt so real.


    I opened my eyes slowly and saw it: a big tree towering above me, with grass beneath me. Not long after, I heard them¡ªvoices. Birds chirping. Insects buzzing. Rodents scurrying. The sounds were vivid. Alive.


    Wait a minute¡­ Am I still dreaming? It all feels too real. I can feel the dirt and grass through my hands, coarse and earthy. The fresh air fills my nose, crisp and clean. This doesn¡¯t feel like a dream. What¡¯s going on here?


    Is this some kind of lucid dream? Because I feel like I¡¯m in the middle of a forest. Trees stretch out everywhere, bushes dotting the ground. Birds fly overhead, their wings cutting through the sky. Stand up. But too lazy to do it. It''s too comfortable. Even more comfortable than my cheap bed. It felt like¡­ I¡¯m in another world.


    Time passed as I stayed lying there. Comfortable. Peaceful. I haven¡¯t felt this way in months. Since the last three dragged me down into emptiness. Yeah, maybe this is the best dream I could ever hope for.


    Then I saw it. a small bird perched on a branch right above me. Black feathered. Blue crest on its head. What kind of bird is that? But before I could think more about it. The bird looked at me. Stared. Then it stuck out its tongue. It was long. Too long. Like a snake¡¯s tongue.


    ¡°What a bizarre bird.¡± I said after seeing that.


    Not long after, I heard a snort. Loud and sharp, startling me. I tried to sit up slowly, but my body felt stiff. Like rusted gears grinding against each other from lying down for too long. When I finally managed to wake myself fully. I saw it. An animal standing nearby.


    White fur. Horns like deer, but bigger like an elk. Its fur was thicker, fluffier, hanging down around its head in a way that made it look almost regal. Is this a white elk? An albino elk? Is that even a thing? Then I noticed it¡ªthe feathers. They were too different from any elk I¡¯d ever seen, and its expression¡­ confused, almost human.


    It stared at me with big black eyes, as if I were a criminal caught red-handed. Somehow... even in my dream, animals treat me like garbage.


    Then it moved slowly, approaching me step by step, grunting softly as it walked. I wasn¡¯t afraid. Why would I be? This is just a dream, right? Yeah¡­ a lucid dream. There couldn¡¯t be any other explanation. Anything else would be absurd.


    The creature came closer, sniffing the air like a dog searching for something. I let it. Didn¡¯t stop it. But then I realized¡ªit wasn¡¯t me the elk was looking for.


    Not far from where I lay, half-hidden in the grass beside me, was something familiar. A card. The same card the strange person had given me earlier.


    Why was it here? More precisely, why did the card appear in my dream? What did it mean?


    Then the ''elk'' approached the card. Sniffed it. Then suddenly stopped. And looked at me. Like it was trying to tell me something. Something like, ¡°Take this card.¡± Curious, I picked it up. Examined it closely. But nothing seemed different. It was still the same card as before. The one that said ¡°Dream.¡±


    This made me realize¡ªthis is a dream card. So, does that mean the reason I¡¯m having this lucid dream¡­ is because of this card?


    While I was still lost in thought. Trying to make sense of it all. The ''elk'' then tugged at my shirt. Like it was telling me to go. My long-sleeved shirt. That I usually wear when sleeping. Now this shirt is full of saliva from the ''elk''. Gross. But since this is a dream, why should I care?


    Yeah¡­ why overthink it? This is a dream. Might as well enjoy it, right?


    I just went with the flow. Because the ''elk'' wanted to take me somewhere. I followed. When I stood up, I was amazed. The forest felt so real. The sun¡¯s glare tried to push through the dense foliage, but it barely made it. Big trees towered everywhere. Bushes and grass spread out around me. Little birds flitted between branches. Things that looked like bees or maybe other small insects. Crawled over the grass and bushes.


    Then I noticed pieces of wood scattered on the ground, covered in green moss. But what really caught my eye was¡­ mushrooms. Or something like them. They were stuck to the wood, glowing faintly. Yeah, glowing. Sounds strange, right? I¡¯d heard of bioluminescent mushrooms before, but they¡¯re usually seen at night. These, though¡ªthey glowed brightly even during the day. The dense canopy blocked most of the sunlight, letting their light stand out clearly. It was the first time I¡¯d ever seen anything like it. Fascinating.


    Then I saw it. Among the trees, there was a path. Leading somewhere. Calling me. Inviting me. Curiosity took over. I left the ¡®elk¡¯ behind. I walked through the dense forest until I reached a wide-open expanse.


    It felt like stepping into a living wallpaper. A field of flowers stretched out before me¡ªwhite and red petals all over the ground the scent grew stronger with each step. Carried by the gentle wind. Beyond the flowers, I could see hills and mountains in the distance. They didn¡¯t seem too far away. Their presence shows at how vast this forest truly was. Much bigger than I¡¯d imagined.


    I moved closer. Drawn to the scene. Yeah... I want to feel it. What freedom feels like. These flowers. Soft. Strange. Something I¡¯ve never seen or felt before. Maybe this is what I¡¯ve been looking for. Maybe that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. I spread my arms. Letting the wind hit me. Feeling it. The soft petals brushing against my fingers. Immersing myself. In everything around me.


    ¡°Is this what it feels like to be free? From all the burdens. Pain. Everything.¡± I said.


    Tears fell. Dripped down my face. I don¡¯t cry. Not usually. Or maybe I just held it in. Always. But now¡­ something feels different. Lighter. Freer.


    Something better¡­ Something healing¡­


    Free from suffering. The ties that bind me. The hands covering my eyes and ears. Gone. I can feel the warmth now. And also, happiness? It''s been so long since I felt it. So, I''ve forgotten what it feels like. To be happy. Blissful. And grateful.


    It¡¯s like going back in time. But without the wounds. Without the scars. To a place where I can feel human. Feel alive.


    This reminds me of Aristotle. Something he said once. ¡°Happiness is the meaning and purpose of life.¡± The whole aim. The end of human existence. Maybe he¡¯s right. He¡¯s the expert, after all. That''s why people remember him. Sadly. They remember the man, not the words. The meaning behind them.


    Heh...thinking about people. Ruining the mood. There¡¯s a reason modern society feels absurd. Because there are not many wise people. Too many fools. And wisdom? It¡¯s treated like some dusty antique. Left in the attic to rot. A relic of the past.


    I never regretted reading the ancient Greek philosophers. Never. The old men left behind gold. Eternal gold.


    Gold that doesn¡¯t rust. Doesn¡¯t fade. Timeless.


    My feelings started to improve. Then I realized that the ''elk'' was actually waiting. Standing in the distance. Watching me. Head tilted slightly. Like it was staring at a crazy person. Not wrong, though. If insanity could put me in a different category than most people¡­ I¡¯d be happy to take it.


    But the elk seemed to be calling me. Its head moved again. Again. Signaling. Trying to tell me something. Unfortunately, I don¡¯t speak animal. Never learned that skill. Besides, from the start. I was a person without much talent. Or skill.


    Still, I went toward it. Why not? It¡¯s been my ¡°guide¡± so far in this dream. Might as well follow the script for now. Curious where the story will go next.


    Let''s see. If I look at the common plot. Then there is a possibility that I will meet a witch? A talking tree? Forest guardian? Ah... Elf! Maybe there were elves in this dream, right? Then I¡¯ll remember this dream. Never forget it. My life would feel a little better if I could just keep remembering it.


    It makes sense now. Wasn''t there an elf riding an ''elk'' in one of the movies? That was the second trilogy where this appeared. If that¡¯s true¡­ maybe this forest is the home of elves. No wonder everything feels strange. Unreal. Mushrooms that glow during the day. Small birds with snake-like tongues. And this white ''elk'' doesn''t look normal either.


    So, I followed the ''elk''. Walking quite a distance through many trees and bushes. There were no roads here, just uneven ground and thick forest. Moving wasn¡¯t easy. Sometimes along the way I see strange animals or plants. Creatures like hamsters or rats, but with horns. Flowers glowing faintly for no reason. Weird. Unusual.


    Eventually, I came across ruins. Big rocks carved into shapes. Now covered in moss. It looked like a place that had been looted or destroyed long ago. As I moved further, the ruins became more frequent. It felt like stepping into a historical documentary, surrounded by remnants of something ancient.


    Then, out of nowhere, a voice whispered, soft but clear.


    ¡°Welcome. I''ve been waiting for you for quite some time.¡±


    It sounded like a woman''s voice. But I didn''t see anyone else around. To make sure I even turned my body 360 degrees. But empty. Just me, the ruins, and the white elk.


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    Is it possible that there is a ghost in the dream? No, that doesn''t make any sense at all.


    The voice came again, calm and patient.


    ¡°You look confused. Come to the temple. I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    Temple? In the middle of this forest? It explained the ruins maybe, but not why it was here. Still, the elk seemed to know where we were going. He led me confidently toward a large. Half-destroyed building at the center of everything¡ªa temple, or what was left of it.


    The temple is shaped like a circle that is located right on the hill, reminding me of ancient Roman or Greek temple buildings. In front of it was a plaza, its ground covered with stone. What caught my eye wasn¡¯t just the green moss eating away at the ruins but also the wildflowers scattered around. Some glowed faintly, like the ones I¡¯d seen earlier. The whole scene felt¡­ beautiful. Natural. Something ancient yet alive.


    But then I noticed. The white elk didn¡¯t waste time. It walked straight toward the temple and started climbing the stairs. From where I stood, I could make out a figure at the top. A woman. She was watching me.


    Curious, I moved closer. As I approached, details became clearer. She wore a thin white cloth that¡­ too thin, honestly. I could see the curves of her body even from a distance. Her long blonde hair framed her face, and near her ear. She had a white flower pinned delicately. She wasn¡¯t an elf. No, but her beauty or maybe more accurately. Her charm was undeniable.


    ¡°Come here, you don''t need to be afraid.¡±


    The whispering voice returned, smooth and inviting¡ªalmost hypnotic, like it was reeling me in to enter the temple.


    I didn¡¯t hesitate to follow. It wasn¡¯t like I had much choice in the matter anyway. This whole thing felt painfully scripted. This white ''elk'' definitely had something to do with this place and that woman. He was sent to bring me here from the start. The entire setup felt contrived. Straight out of a second-rate novel or a clich¨¦-ridden comic book. Honestly. At this point, I could only hope this wasn¡¯t setting up yet another brainrot plotline. Overused trash plots with zero originality. Heck, I¡¯d be disappointed if I ended up stuck in one of those garbage tropes even in my own dreams.


    And speaking of disappointment¡­ no elves. Not even one. Seriously, come on. If we¡¯re going full brainrot with mystical creatures in mysterious forests, can¡¯t we at least pick the best of the worst? Where¡¯s the elf? This is unacceptable.


    But if I think about this logically for a moment. That woman¡­ she¡¯s probably either trapped or sealed here somehow. Classic setup I would say. she¡¯ll charm me into breaking her seal, then boom¡ªI¡¯m suddenly responsible for whatever chaos unfolds because of my ¡°heroic¡± mistake. Overused trope alert.


    Then again, maybe she¡¯s just the guardian spirit of the forest. That would actually make sense given that we¡¯re standing in front of a temple. Guardians tend to hang around temples, after all. Still, knowing my luck, she¡¯s more likely some ethereal forest goddess who¡¯s going to ask for my help. And if I agree? Surprise! She¡¯ll grant me some absurdly overpowered ability. Because apparently, solving ancient magical problems requires turning random passersby into demigods overnight.


    Yeah, these kinds of plots are predictable enough to make me roll my eyes before they even happen. Brainrot incarnate. But hey, who needs originality when you¡¯ve got it for free in your dream, right?


    I followed the script. Climbing the stairs of the old temple one step at a time. From here I could clearly see the area of ??ruins was quite large. When I reached the entrance, the interior came into view: half-destroyed, with broken walls and shattered pillars framing what must have once been an altar. And there she stood, right in the middle of it all.


    Around her were white flowers, scattered like fallen stars along the wall. Matching the ones woven through her hair. She wore a thin white cloth that clung to her figure, almost transparent against her smooth, pale skin. Every curve of her body was unmistakable, impossible to ignore. As a straight man, let¡¯s just say my attention was... fully engaged.


    Her face only added to the picture. Without a doubt, this is top-tier beauty. Flawless white skin, a pointed nose, and delicate features¡ªthe type of face that might pause your thoughts. Her posture was poised, slim but strong, like she¡¯d stepped straight out of some supermodel catalog.


    Maybe I wasn¡¯t too disappointed about not seeing an elf after all. Sure, the whole thing felt "clich¨¦." but if this woman was part of the package. Perhaps that was not such an awful trade-off. At least something here seemed to be worth the journey.


    ¡°May I know your name?¡± the woman said. But here¡¯s the thing¡ªher mouth didn¡¯t move. Not even a little.


    Is this a glitch? A bug? Can dreams even have bugs? I mean, isn¡¯t this supposed to be my subconscious doing its thing?


    Still confused, I just went with it


    ¡°I''m Ryan.¡± I said. In a flat tone of course.


    My head is starting to go into overdrive. Something felt¡­ off. Like really off. Is she a ghost? That would explain the whole ¡°talking without moving her mouth¡± thing. But come on, what kind of ghost looks like that? Beautiful enough to make you forget you¡¯re probably in danger? Or maybe that was the point all along?


    ¡°You seem confused. What is confusing you?¡± she asked again. And yes, her mouth was still closed. Perfectly still.


    Okay, now this is starting to scare me a little. If I answer her, will she attack me? like in horror movies where the protagonist says one too many things and¡­ dead. But wait, wasn¡¯t this supposed to be some plot about mystical creatures in mysterious forests troupe? Why does it feel like a horror story now? Did someone mess up the genre halfway through?


    Then again, this is my dream. My own personal brain theater. So technically, I shouldn¡¯t be afraid, right? Worst-case scenario, I could wake up tomorrow and just forget all this crap. With that thought, I decided to bite the bullet and ask:


    ¡°How do you talk? How can you talk without your mouth moving at all?¡± I pointed my index finger at her for emphasis, because why not add some dramatic flair? It''s all just a dream after all. Might go all out play my role in this dream.


    She lowered her head slightly, almost like she was apologizing. ¡°Sorry, I haven¡¯t used my physical form for too long. This might confuse you.¡±


    Fair enough. At least she acknowledged the strangeness. But then she continued, revealing the plot twist:


    ¡°Humans now call me, Poma. Goddess of the forest and nature. Though now I am nothing more than the guardian of this Rossa forest. Forgotten by time¡± The woman said introducing herself. Now she is speaking normally again.


    Oh great. She called herself a goddess but now she''s just a guardian of this forest? Quite a complicated background. And Rossa Forest? Really? What kind of name is that? It sounds like something someone came up with five minutes before the deadline. Uncreative, sure, but at least it¡¯s original¡­ sort of.


    ¡°Okay... Then why did you call me here? That white ¡®elk¡¯ must have been your doing, right? He was the one who invited and brought me here.¡± I replied, pointing again at the white elk standing beside the woman who claimed to be a goddess.


    ¡°Elk? Ahh, you mean Enyeka? Yes, you¡¯re not wrong about that. I was the one who sent Enyeka to approach you and bring you here. She didn¡¯t cause any trouble, did he?¡± she asked.


    Well, if we count my clothes getting bitten by her, it wasn¡¯t exactly smooth sailing. But maybe I should rewind for a moment. Looking back at how things happened might give me some information. First, in this dream, I was wandering through the forest when Enyeka appeared and led me to this temple. Along the way, I passed a field of beautiful flowers, and now I¡¯m standing in this crumbling temple with a woman who claims to be a goddess.


    Sure, I still can guess where this plot is heading¡ªit¡¯s painfully predictable. And honestly, it¡¯s kind of ironic. In the past, I was trying so hard to write a story with originality, something fresh and meaningful. But now, my own dream is following the most clich¨¦d, brainrot plot imaginable.


    Even my subconscious can¡¯t resist a trashy trope. This just goes to show how bad I am as a writer.


    ¡°Why do you still look confused?¡± the woman asked, breaking the silence.


    I was confused¡­ about this dream. About her, about everything. So many things felt strange, it was almost too deliberate. Maybe it was time to ask her directly, right? I started with a simple question.


    ¡°Tell me where we are now? Can you explain it?¡±


    As I spoke, something clicked in my mind. This dream wasn¡¯t as random as I¡¯d first thought. There was a clear plot to it. Even if it leaned heavily on the kind of brainrot tropes I¡¯d seen a hundred times before. But shouldn¡¯t dreams be chaotic? Unpredictable? It was only after reflecting on all the events that I realized how oddly organized this one felt.


    ¡°The Ardennse Continent, or what used to be called Arrendes,¡± she began, her tone calm and measured. ¡°Human language has developed quite rapidly here. This Rossa Forest lies in the southern part of the continent. If nothing has changed, there should be a city called Madena not far from here.¡±


    Again, this level of detail was unsettling. Could dreams really be this structured? Or was my mind just¡­ different?


    ¡°Do you know chocolate? Or strawberry cake? Have you ever eaten them?¡± she suddenly asked, jolting me out of my thoughts.


    The question felt bizarrely out of place, but I answered anyway. ¡°Of course, I know that. Though I rarely buy strawberry cake. But I KNOW what strawberry cake and chocolate is.¡± I emphasized the last part, partly because the randomness of her question threw me off balance.


    She smiled then, her expression softening with what looked like relief. It was as if she¡¯d been waiting for my answer. That small shift in her demeanor changed the atmosphere entirely. The tension in the air seemed to dissolve, replaced by a strange calm. Her smile¡ªit wasn¡¯t smug or manipulative. It was genuine, almost comforting. For the first time, I wondered if she truly was who she claimed to be: a goddess.


    ¡°So, you must have a card that you carry with you,¡± she continued, her voice steady. ¡°A card that might feel ordinary.¡±


    This time, her question intrigued me. How did she know? Was this one of her abilities? It wouldn¡¯t be surprising, given her supposed deity status. Curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled the card from my pocket.


    ¡°You mean this card?¡± I said while showing her the card.


    Her reaction was unexpected. She didn¡¯t smile or nod like before. Instead, she simply replied, ¡°Welcome to the Ardennes Continent. You can stay here temporarily.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, leaving me more puzzled than ever. What did she mean by ¡°welcome¡±? And why was she offering me a temporary stay in this temple? If I woke up, wouldn¡¯t all of this vanish? Did she think this dream world was permanent? Or was there something more to it¡ªsomething I wasn¡¯t seeing yet?


    ¡°What do you mean stay? If I wake up from this dream everything will just disappear.¡± I replied without hesitation.


    I was curious, though. She was, after all, a product of my imagination. A figment born from the chaos of my subconscious. What would happen if I confronted her with that reality? Would she spiral into an existential crisis or just laugh it off?


    But instead of crumbling under the weight of my logic, she smiled. Like she was holding back laughter.


    ¡°Of course, I forgot. You must think this is all just a dream. But unfortunately, you¡¯re wrong. This is a different place entirely from your previous world,¡± she said, her voice calm as she began walking toward me.


    Her words struck me hard¡ªhow could a figure in my dream say something like that? This whole situation was getting stranger by the second. And yet¡­ there was something else. A scent. Faint but familiar, like the flowers I¡¯d smelled earlier. It felt too vivid for a dream.


    As she drew closer, my brain betrayed me. The thin white cloth she wore clung to her frame almost teasingly, leaving little to the imagination. My mind immediately conjured an image of her naked, as if it had been waiting for the opportunity. It practically Photoshopped the image in HD no filter needed.


    Desperate to regain some semblance of control, I slowly turned my face away. Maybe if I avoided looking directly at her, the sensory overload would fade. Or so I hoped.


    She walked past me, her presence lingering longer than necessary. ¡°Then why are you avoiding me? If this is a dream, can¡¯t you control it?¡± Her tone carried a playful edge, like she knew exactly what she was doing and was enjoying every second of it.


    Her words struck a nerve. Wait. Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be a lucid dream? Shouldn¡¯t I have full control over this mess? Yet nothing about this felt scripted by me. Everything had unfolded naturally, almost unnervingly so. With all its trashy plot beats perfectly in place.


    And then it hit me. The possible outcomes are: Isekai


    No. No way. There¡¯s no way someone like me. A mere background character in real life would get dragged into one of those stories. That¡¯s not how these things work! If anything, shouldn¡¯t I have been hit by a truck first? Isn¡¯t that the standard procedure opening for this kind of nonsense? At least I''m spared the clich¨¦. The painful part could¡¯ve been skipped entirely.


    But still¡­


    If this really was an Isekai scenario, then what? Did some lunatic writer decide today was the day to shove me into their poorly thought-out fantasy plot? And what about that card in my pocket? Could it actually be tied to all of this? A ticket? A travel visas?


    The more I thought about it, the more absurd it became.


    And worst of all. What happens when I wake up?


    Or worse¡­ what if I don¡¯t?


    Damn it! Which crazy person wrote this?

 S01: "New Tragedy" Chapter 4

    I was a failed writer. And now? I¡¯m stuck in the most clich¨¦ genre of fiction ever. The ultimate trash tier, Isekai. How did this even happen? Did I commit some cardinal sin? Am I cursed? Dumped into another world as punishment? Give me one logical reason!


    No¡­ I need to think like an author. If I were writing this story, what would come next? A random monster attacks? Or maybe the sudden appearance of a beautiful heroine who¡¯s way out of my league? It¡¯s impossible to predict because the plot is garbage from the start. Starting with the main character choice, it¡¯s completely wrong. Me. A failed writer. What¡¯s the point of this? Do you expect me to accomplish something? I can¡¯t even string words together properly, and now I¡¯m supposed to be the hero?


    What kind of rotten author would create a mess like this? Honestly, they¡¯re worse than me. That¡¯s assuming there is someone orchestrating all of this. Or am I just unlucky? Did I accidentally stumble into an isekai without meaning to? I mean, I¡¯m not the first person this has happened to, right? Some best-selling novels use this exact trope. Still, I hope there isn¡¯t some creepy and powerful ancient witch hiding in the shadows. Kidnapping people and giving them absurd powers like coming back after death. Though, let¡¯s be honest. That¡¯s actually kind of cool. But I already know enough after reading the novel. It didn''t end too well.


    Then again, what if this really is just a dream? It still feels possible. Except¡­ I can¡¯t control anything here. Shouldn¡¯t lucid dreams let you take charge? No¡­ I¡¯ll test it soon enough. I just need to wait for myself to wake up. Because if this is a dream, then eventually, it¡¯ll end. It has to.


    Beside me, Poma was still waiting for my response. She looked at me with a faint smile, clearly pleased by my reaction. But it wasn¡¯t easy to meet her gaze directly.


    Her thin clothes were¡­ distracting. Too distracting. The longer I stared, the more my thoughts wandered off in directions they probably shouldn¡¯t. Maybe I should just say it¡ªit¡¯d be easier if she changed. After all, she¡¯s a goddess. Or so she claims.


    ¡°Can you change your clothes? That¡¯s a bit¡­ distracting,¡± I said, trying to keep my tone casual but failing miserably.


    Poma didn¡¯t miss a beat. Her lips twitched as she held back laughter. Both hands moved to adjust her outfit, brushing over her stomach and chest like she was deliberately making things worse.


    "Is there something wrong? Isn''t this your dream? You can do it yourself, right?" she teased, her voice dripping with playful mockery.


    Great. Now she¡¯s messing with me. If I could, maybe I would. But at least I want to keep my manners. Regardless of whether this is a dream or not. Failed writer or not. I¡¯m no creep.


    So, I gave in, ¡°You''re right, this isn''t a dream. Please change your clothes. You''re a goddess, aren''t you? Please maintain your dignity.¡±


    After hearing my words, Poma pulled something from beside her¡ªa white robe that seemed to materialize out of thin air. She slipped it on slowly, almost theatrically, before speaking again.


    ¡°I understand. But the current me is nothing more than a forest guardian. Calling me a goddess makes me sound pathetic,¡± she said, her tone softening, though there was still a hint of amusement behind it.


    It turns out. A goddess. Or at least someone who used to be one. Yet, we share something that relatable. A pathetic life. This world is sometimes unpredictable. A plot twist you could say?


    ¡°What should I do now? I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d end up living here with you, did I?¡± I asked. Because there is a possibility that this is not a dream. I''d better start thinking carefully about the future.


    Poma just smiled at my question. ¡°I¡¯d be happy if you stayed here with me. But in a few days, people will come to make offerings. You can leave with them then, or you can stay here. It¡¯s up to you.¡±


    A few days? That means I need to figure out food, drinks, and¡­ clothes. I don¡¯t even have any of those. No money either. Assuming money even exists here. Huh. Turns out getting isekai¡¯d requires more preparation than I thought. At least I¡¯ve got a place to stay for now.


    ¡°What about food and drinks? I¡¯m not familiar with this world,¡± I said, cutting straight to the point.


    This was my priority. It¡¯s another world, after all. There must be fundamental differences. From plants, animals, everything. That explains the strange creatures and glowing plants I saw earlier.


    ¡°Oh, for that, you can eat some of the offerings left for me. Most are fruits from this forest, safe to eat. For water, there¡¯s a river not far from here. But you¡¯ll need Enyeka, she knows the way, so you won¡¯t get lost,¡± she explained.


    Okay, so food and water are sorted at least for now. The next problem is clothing. Nights here might get cold. How cold? I don¡¯t know yet. But I¡¯ll have to deal with it sooner or later. Let''s hope it''s not as cold as a December night.


    That was my conversation with Poma. Afterward, she mentioned she needed to rest¡ªusing her physical form seemed to drain her strength. I could see why she felt uneasy being called a goddess. Aside from her appearance, there wasn¡¯t much that stood out.


    Sure, by normal standards for a goddess, she was¡­ underwhelming. She even admitted her current power is extremely limited. And living in this ruined temple? It told me everything I needed to know. She wasn¡¯t some almighty deity anymore¡ªif she ever was. More like a fallen goddess. Forgotten by time, abandoned by most, remembered only by a handful of people.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Maybe fate brought us together. Two people sharing the same trash-tier luck. Honestly, it¡¯s not the worst thing. At least she¡¯s not liked that water goddess who¡¯s useless unless you need someone to fight undead.


    Before ending our talk, Poma gave me some information about this world. Apparently, there used to be dragons and giants. But most of them are gone now, or at least they¡¯ve left this continent. Good news, honestly. Can you imagine a world packed with magical races and crazy strong magic? It¡¯d be like living in a place where every petty argument could escalate into an apocalypse.


    Giant casually wiping out entire villages because someone looked at them wrong. Dwarves hoarding not just gold but weapons of mass destruction, ready to bury kingdoms under mountains of rubble. And dragons? They¡¯d burn down cities for fun, then reset time to do it all over again without consequences. No thanks. I¡¯ll take boring and safe over ¡°epic¡± and suicidal any day.


    She also said there¡¯s no magic here¡ªor at least, not in the way I imagined. Instead, there¡¯s something called ¡°mystical knowledge.¡± She offered to teach me if I wanted. Of course, I refused. Why go looking for trouble when I¡¯m already neck-deep in it? Especially not if it has too much mystery in it.


    Lastly, she mentioned she still has one blessed person. Through them, she can help me leave the forest if I choose to go. Honestly, staying in the middle of nowhere isn¡¯t exactly my dream lifestyle. But curiosity is starting to creep up on me. I want to know more about this world. At the same time, though, fear keeps tugging at the back of my mind.


    I¡¯m just a normal human. A failed writer with zero talent. If I had any kind of plot armor, I wouldn¡¯t have been failing so hard from the start, right? Yeah¡­ something tells me endless bad luck is waiting around every corner.


    Because Poma is now gone, like a ghost. It¡¯s just me and Enyeka here. The first thing I did was try the fruits beside the altar. They came in different shapes, round to oval.But I only sampled a few. I needed to save what little food there was.


    And then it happened. I found a fruit that wasn¡¯t just sour¡ªit was SALTY. Yeah, salty. Like someone sprinkled salt into it. It was round, grape-sized but slightly bigger. And its insides were watery. I almost spat it out. If anything, this thing deserved to be called liquid salt more than fruit. Luckily, not all the fruits were as bizarre. Most were bland, though one looked like a chili but turned out sweet. This made me question everything I thought I knew about fruits.


    The sky began to turn yellow. Darkness was creeping in. Before it got too late, I decided to find water. Poma had mentioned a river not far from the temple, but I didn¡¯t have a bottle or anything to carry it in. That¡¯s when I remembered the clay pot I¡¯d found earlier while exploring the ruins around the temple.


    Because I was bored this afternoon I went around the ruins and there were many interesting things inside. One of them was this pot and there was an ancient silver coin with a picture of a person engraved on it. Well, it wasn''t in vain because now I could get a drink and Enyeka could take me to the river.


    Who would¡¯ve thought Enyeka could understand human speech? Poma must¡¯ve trained her well. Still, I sensed she wasn¡¯t thrilled about sharing her food. The fruits on the altar were probably hers to begin with, and now she had to split them with me. Tough luck for her, I guess. I noticed her irritated expression as she walked ahead of me. Poma said the river wasn¡¯t far, but it felt like we¡¯d been walking for almost 20 minutes, and we still hadn¡¯t arrived.


    ¡°Hey, Enyeka. Is it still far? It¡¯s getting dark now.¡± I asked.


    Of course, I knew she couldn¡¯t reply, but I needed some kind of reassurance. If I¡¯d known it would take this long. I would¡¯ve prioritized getting water earlier. My throat was starting to feel dry. Though I could still hold out a little longer.


    She only snorted softly and picked up her pace. Soon, I began to hear the faint sound of flowing water. Through the trees and thick bushes, I finally saw it¡ªa fresh, clear river. The water was so clean it looked surreal, almost like transparent glass.


    I knelt down and started cleaning the clay pot I¡¯d brought. Who knows how old it was? Better safe than sorry. I didn''t want my stomach to hurt from drinking from a dirty water container. I threw away the contents of the pot, which were mostly dust and rocks. I did it several times until I felt the pot was clean. Then I filled it with water.


    The water felt cold. So did the air. As I waited for the pot to fill, something caught my attention¡ªsomething wrong. I couldn¡¯t see my reflection in the water. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light or my tired eyes playing games. I rubbed them hard, blinked a few times. But nothing changed. No reflection. Nothing at all.


    Is this proof that this world is just a dream? Or is there something else going on? I tried to push the thought away, to stay calm. But my heartbeat feels faster and faster.


    Once the pot was full, I stood up quickly, scanning the area. Enyeka was gone. She had been right beside me moments ago, drinking from the river. Did she leave? No¡­ Poma told her to help me. Why would she abandon me now? Was it because I ate the fruit meant for her? This silence felt unnatural. Too sudden. Too strange.


    Damn it. My bad luck strikes again. I could still vaguely remember the way back to the temple, but with night falling, everything around me grew darker. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, swallowing the trees and bushes whole. One wrong step, and I¡¯d be lost forever. Why now? Of all times, why does this have to happen now?


    The darkness pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating. The forest seemed alive, watching, waiting. I stood by the river, clutching the pot tightly, hoping Enyeka would return. But no one came. Just me. Alone. In the deepening gloom.


    And then I saw it. Across the river, behind the trees. Something stood there, staring at me. Its eyes glowed red. Piercing through the shadows like embers burning in the dark. It didn¡¯t move at first, just watched. Then, slowly, deliberately, it began to approach.


    My breath hitched. Every muscle in my body screamed to run. ¡°Something is wrong here!¡± I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of fear. I turned and bolted, leaving the river behind. Clutching the pot so tightly my knuckles turned white.


    Then I heard it... "AHHHHAAHHHHH..." A non-stop screaming.


    Something behind me. Something chasing me. Something... wants me¡­


    I have to run. As far away as I can. As fast as I can. As strong as I can. Or... It will get me¡­


    Again¡­ Scream¡­ Loud¡­ "AHHHHAAHHHHHAHHHHHAHHHHHAHHHHH¡­.¡±


    I ran¡­ Away... My feet¡­ Hurt¡­ My ears... Pierced... Loud screams¡­


    I can''t see... Everything went dark... Surrounded¡­ Endless Darkness¡­


    My head is spinning... It hurts... Stop... Stop...


    The pot fell¡­ As did I¡­


    Like a dream¡­ Unreal¡­


    When will I wake up? Please wake me up...


    Ahh¡­ The trees are bleeding... Red... Blood... No¡­ Stop¡­


    The smell of blood... Piercing my nose...


    My body... Rusted... Rotting... Like a corpse...


    This land... Full of blood... Red... Rotting...


    Something... From my stomach... Moving...


    My throat... Something wants to come out...


    "Rrrrippp..."


    ¡°"Wssh..."


    A hand... Came out... From my mouth...


    It moves... Alive... While...


    My mind... Slowly... Rotting... Dead¡­

 S01: "New Tragedy" Chapter 5

    It''s gone... Nightmare... Pain¡­ Fear¡­


    Now just... Emptiness¡­ Numbness¡­. Darkness¡­


    Have I woken up? Did someone wake me up? Is this over?


    Don''t take me there again. Leave me here. In this emptiness. I found peace...


    My home... My heaven... Let me... Be reborn... Here...


    Don''t wake me up. Forget me. Leave me. Let me drown. In the silence.


    Time will pass. The future will come. The past will be discarded.


    ¡°So, who are you?¡±


    Who am I? Ah... I want to forget it.


    Don''t make me remember it. Please. Don''t remind me.


    ¡°Why? Do you hate yourself?¡±


    Certainly. I wish I never lived. I''m nothing but a failure. A burden. And trash.


    Are you not? Your face is like mine. I can recognize it. Walking trash. Streak of failure.


    ¡°Same with me. I want to die. Do you want to do it together?¡±


    Okay. Let''s erase ourselves together. For a better end.


    "Close your eyes. Let me enter your body. So, we can disappear together."


    Do it. I don''t care. As long as I can die.


    "That''s right, because we are the failed and miserable one.¡±


    Yeah. Don''t remind me. You''re annoying.


    ¡°I am you. So, you are the annoying one.¡±


    Ahh... you''re right. I forgot. Why are you here?


    ¡°To die with you? Is there any other wish?¡±


    No. I just hope. Ellen can forgive me.


    ¡°What about your father?¡±


    That too. I wanted him to know that I failed. I didn''t want to lie to him. With false hope.


    ¡°What about Jason?¡±


    Annoying person. I hope he forgets about me.


    ¡°Is there anyone else?¡±


    There isn''t any. Just the three of them.


    ¡°But you lied.¡±


    What do you mean? I''m telling the truth.


    ¡°Our dream is still alive. Why don''t you kill it?¡±


    Dream? What dream? Have I ever had a dream?


    ¡°Yeah. What a liar. I hope you die.¡±


    Aren''t we going to die together?


    ¡°No. Only you die. Die with your dreams.¡±


    Huh? What happened?


    ¡°I hope you have endless nightmares. Dreams that will devour you. Eat you alive.¡±


    Don''t... Throw away that dream... Don''t bring it here...


    Why is there light? Don''t take me away. Leave me here. Don''t wake me up¡­


    Light. Too bright. Am I awake? I can''t see anything. Leave me alone. Don''t bother me.


    Voice... Something is calling me¡­ Something... Licking me?


    Has the world flipped upside down? Or is it just my head? Someone explain this to me.


    A woman. So fragrant. Looking at me. Poma?


    An animal. Disgusting. She licks my face. Enyeka?


    Where am I? Is this real? Have I woken up from the nightmare?


    "Ryan, can you hear me?" a female voice asked. I couldn¡¯t make her out clearly.


    Slowly, things started to clear up. I could see trees. Ruins. The night sky full of stars. And there were Poma and Enyeka.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked. My head felt like it was spinning. So did my body. It felt sore and stiff.


    ¡°You suddenly fell while fetching water. Enyeka had to drag you here.¡± Poma said.


    Weird... I remember it differently. Something was chasing me. Then blood. Everywhere. Was it a nightmare? It felt like the nightmare wanted to devour me. Seeking something from me. And maybe. I was eaten by the nightmare.


    At least it¡¯s, over, right? I won''t see anything like that again. Blood and all that. Scared me.


    Please¡­ I don¡¯t want to go through that again. I¡¯d rather stay here. Look at the stars. They¡¯re bright, clear. This world has no pollution yet. Still pure. Still beautiful.


    ¡°Ryan, are you okay?¡± Poma asked. Her face looked worried.


    Enyeka stood beside her, staring at me with what seemed like sadness. Or maybe I was just imagining it. Who knows? I can¡¯t read animals.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I was looking at the stars. Back in my old world, I couldn¡¯t even see them.¡±


    ¡°If there¡¯s something you want to say, just say it,¡± Poma replied.


    Something to say? I can''t think of anything. But maybe...


    ¡°I just want to rest. I feel so tired. Empty.¡± That¡¯s all I can feel. Or all I can explain with words.


    ¡°Sorry, I should¡¯ve told you. About the card.¡± Poma suddenly apologized. Her face looked sad. It felt strange to see a goddess with a sad face like that. Like a dream.


    ¡°Card? What card?¡± I asked. My mind was blank. Messy. I couldn¡¯t remember anything clearly.


    ¡°The card you brought. Can you tell me its name?¡± Poma asked.


    Ahh¡­ I started to remember. A strange card. Given by a stranger. Didn¡¯t I show it to Poma already? Or was my memory wrong?


    ¡°¡°Why? Didn¡¯t I already show it to you before? Why are you asking now?¡± I replied.


    But thinking about it again, it was strange. Why did I have that card? Was there a connection?


    ¡°Because it might be related to what¡¯s happening to you now,¡± Poma said.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Huh? How is that possible? Isn¡¯t it just a normal card? Wait¡­ Why didn¡¯t I suspect it before? I thought it was strange, but I never questioned it. Something¡¯s playing tricks on my mind.


    It hurt a little, but I forced myself up. I was lying in front of the temple. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the card. Nothing unusual at first glance. It looked normal. But when I stared at it, something felt¡­ off.


    I showed it to Poma. ¡°Can¡¯t you see the image or name on this card?¡± I asked.


    ¡°All I see is a black card. But it feels¡­ vague. Frightening, somehow,¡± Poma replied.


    Frightening? What did she mean by that? Was there something wrong with this card? Should I throw it away? No, I needed to find out more from Poma first. She seemed to know something but wasn¡¯t telling me.


    ¡°The name of this card is Dream. There¡¯s a faceless figure here, floating in a dreamlike place full of stars. I never understood its meaning or significance. Do you know anything about it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say much. I¡¯m afraid it will harm you. But what I can tell you is this: the card is proof. You are the chosen one,¡± Poma replied.


    Her face looked tense as she said it. Her words about being ¡°the chosen one¡± felt familiar. Someone else had probably said the same thing before. But where? When? Who?


    Wait¡­ I think I remember now. The mysterious man who gave me this card¡ªhe said something similar. Does this mean this is part of his plan? It feels like a well-organized scheme. The longer this goes on, the stranger it gets.


    I need to find a logical reason for all of this. There has to be one. Yeah¡­ there must be a reasonable explanation. Or I might lose my mind.


    ¡°Just tell me everything. Why didn¡¯t you explain this from the start? Is there something you¡¯re hiding from me?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I can¡¯t. The more you know about things like this, the more dangerous it becomes. That¡¯s why I asked you earlier about mystical knowledge. Since you refused, I thought it would be better not to tell you any further,¡± Poma replied.


    She seemed genuinely worried. But what she said made me wonder¡ªdoes this world follow some kind of Lovecraftian horror rule? I needed to confirm it. What exactly is this mystical knowledge? If I understood that, maybe I could make sense of everything.


    ¡°How dangerous are we talking about here? And does that mean there are special requirements to learn this mystical knowledge?¡± I asked.


    I was curious. If this really was a Lovecraftian setting, then my decision to avoid digging deeper was probably the right choice. But strange things kept happening to me. How could I just ignore them? I needed to think carefully about my next steps. At the very least, I should understand what¡¯s going on.


    ¡°If we talk about ordinary dangers, humans can go insane and lose their sanity. Then there¡¯s knowledge that can strip away your humanity bit by bit. Anyone can learn it, as long as they¡¯re willing to pay the price. But I think it is better to be ignorant. Because it can save you from greater dangers that exist.¡± Poma explained.


    From her explanation, it was clear: this world follows a Lovecraftian horror setting. That means unseen threats, intangible horrors, and unknown dangers lurking everywhere. Just thinking about it sent shivers down my spine. What kind of world is this? And it doesn¡¯t feel like a dream anymore. If it were, I should¡¯ve woken up by now.


    Damn it¡­


    I¡¯ve been transported to another world¡ªa world with a Lovecraftian horror setting. Aren¡¯t these two genres supposed to oppose each other? Nothing makes sense here! Even I, as a failed writer. Never thought of creating a story with a setting like this.


    Should I look for information about entities like the gods or goddesses here? What if I accidentally offend one? Imagine pissing off something like Cthulhu¡ªI¡¯d be dead before I could blink.


    No, forget that. Curiosity only invites trouble. Better to focus on what Poma can explain. Like the meaning of this ¡°chosen one¡± business. Surely, it¡¯s not some golden ticket to becoming president or king in this world, right?


    ¡°So, what can you explain about being the chosen one?¡± I asked.


    After this, maybe I¡¯ll ask about the card. If possible, I want to throw it away or just hand it over to Poma. There¡¯s no point carrying it, especially if it only brings trouble.


    ¡°As you¡¯ve heard, as the chosen one, you have the special right to choose your path. Whether you take the given path or not, it¡¯s tied to you,¡± Poma replied. Her hand gestured toward me and the card I was holding.


    Does this card have anything to do with me being the chosen one? I need to clarify. And what¡¯s this ¡°given path¡±? It sounds cool and powerful¡ªbut in a Lovecraftian setting, ¡°cool¡± usually means going insane after glimpsing some hidden truth. I don¡¯t want to end up like that.


    "What does this card have to do with it? And what exactly is the given path? Can I at least know that much?¡± I asked.


    Poma hesitated but slowly she answered. ¡°Yes, the card is proof. The path you¡¯re given is written in it. A special right, reserved for those who are chosen. That¡¯s all I can say. If you want to know more, it enters the realm of mystical knowledge.¡±


    The path is tied to the name of the card? So¡­ Dream? What does that even mean? I am a person who failed to achieve my own dream yet now I¡¯m handed a path related to one? Irony at its finest. Is the mysterious person behind this trying to spread my failure? Make this world full of depressed people who didn¡¯t achieve their dreams? Absurd. I don¡¯t get it.


    Before I could ask more, Poma looked at me and said:


    ¡°I think you need to choose now. Will you take the path, or will you live as a normal human in this new world? Your choice will change your destiny¡ªand maybe also the destiny of this world.¡±


    Isn¡¯t that too much? I¡¯m just a normal human. So far, there¡¯s no plot armor or overpowered abilities for me. How can I influence this world? Just by choosing the path on this card? Or is this card itself the key to some hidden power?


    No... No... Remember, we''re talking about a Lovecraftian setting. Power equals madness. Worse, accepting it might mean slowly turning into a monster or something that is no longer human. The thought alone makes me shiver.


    ¡°If I don''t want to take this path. Does that mean I can live a normal life?¡± I asked.


    For now, I didn¡¯t want to take risks. My previous life was already a mess. If I could start fresh here, I wanted a normal life. Yes, normal. No monsters, no dangers¡­. just peace. I wasn¡¯t the main character. Just an extra dragged into someone else¡¯s story. I wanted to go back to being an extra again. Enough trouble for one lifetime.


    ¡°Technically possible, but you have to be careful. Other entities, maybe even gods, might target you because of your status as the chosen one,¡± Poma replied with her face looking a little serious.


    Her answer didn¡¯t sit right with me. Didn¡¯t she say I could choose not to take the ¡°dangerous¡± path? Then why did it feel like both options were equally dangerous? Wasn¡¯t there a safer choice? Doesn''t that mean I had no choice at all from the start?


    ¡°Why do both choices seem equally dangerous? Isn''t there a safer option?¡± I asked.


    If both paths are dangerous, then what kind of choice is this? From the start, it felt useless.


    ¡°If you really don¡¯t want to follow that path, I can offer you a little protection. It¡¯s not much, but as long as you avoid powerful entities, you¡¯ll be safe. The catch is, it has a time limit¡ªyou¡¯ll need to perform a ritual every month to renew it,¡± Poma explained.


    Okay, not bad. So at least I have some kind of protection. Then to avoid meeting unwanted things, I should not go too far from Poma. Because so far, she is the only one I can trust. Or rather, the only one willing to help me.


    Come to think of it, why was she helping me? Did she want something? So far, the only thing of value I had was my status as the chosen one, and Poma didn¡¯t seem interested in that. Her reasons remained unclear, but asking directly felt awkward. For now, I¡¯d rely on her advice. She¡¯d given me important information, after all. Maybe this was what bonds between two failures looked like¡ªI failed as a writer; she, a fallen goddess now reduced to guarding a forest. Different scales, but I understood her pain well enough.


    ¡°That works for me, as long as I can avoid this unknown path.¡± I replied.


    This conversation calmed me down a bit. Though the nightmare still lingered uncomfortably, at least I could clarify some things. Good enough for now.


    ¡°Keep the card hidden as much as possible. Even with my protection, if someone sees it and recognizes it, everything will fall apart.¡± Poma warned.


    If that¡¯s the case, why not just throw it away? But she said it was proof. Was it impossible to get rid of? Might as well ask.


    ¡°Can I throw it away or leave it here in the temple? You could probably take better care of it than me carrying it around, right?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, no. The card is tied to you. Even if you give it to me, it¡¯ll disappear and reappear near you.¡± Poma replied.


    A little disappointing, but as long as I kept it out of sight, it should be fine.


    After discussing serious matters, Poma asked about my nightmare. I told her as much as I could¡ªthe mysterious figure chasing me, the creeping darkness, the bleeding trees soaking the ground. She listened intently, clearly intrigued.


    She also mentioned that nightmares like this might recur for a while. Not great news, but she offered me something to help me sleep better. She said easing my mind would reduce the severity of the dreams. A reasonable plan, so I agreed to follow it.


    After that, I moved deeper into the temple. Unfortunately, this ruin wasn¡¯t exactly a cozy place to sleep. I ended up near the altar, not far from Enyeka. Luckily, her body was big enough that she didn¡¯t seem to mind me leaning against her. Her thick fur acted like a makeshift blanket, at least.


    But sleep wouldn¡¯t come. Maybe I could stare at the stars through the broken ceiling. Count the cracks in the walls. Or maybe¡­ I just didn¡¯t want to sleep. The fear of that nightmare still clung to me, refusing to let go. Poma said she¡¯d make me a calming potion tomorrow, but until then, my mind raced in circles.


    Even after everything that¡¯s happened, I still only half-believed I was really in another world. Is this how the main characters in isekai stories feel? That strange mix of freedom from their old lives and guilt for leaving things behind. For me, it was Jason and my promise to my father and Ellen.


    I¡¯ve only been to their graves once¡ªon the day of their funeral. After that, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to go back. I was too ashamed. My life was a string of failures. I didn¡¯t feel worthy. I didn¡¯t want to face them. So, I ran.


    And here I am. I ran so far that I ended up in another world. Now, I have no idea what the future holds. Maybe it¡¯s not all bad. Maybe this is my way of making up for the regrets I left behind.


    I can only hope that this world is more like a typical Isekai story. Hearing the hint of a Lovecraftian setting makes me feel like I''d rather live in the middle of a war with demon kings and dragons than living in the middle of the endless madness and constant horror of a Lovecraftian story.


    What a stupid idea. Lovecraftian Isekai. Sounds more like a tragedy than a story idea. A literary disaster. A failed lab experiments. Definitely written by an amateur writer.


    S01: "New Tragedy" End

 S02: "New Life" Chapter 1

    I fell. Everything went dark. While I floated. Among the darkness. It felt peaceful. Calm. Away from the storm. Outside. A place. That I could call home. Why? There was someone else. In my place. My home. My heaven.


    ¡°Do you remember Heraclitus? He said something interesting.¡±


    Go away. I don''t know you. Don''t come near me.


    ¡°No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it¡¯s not the same river and he¡¯s not the same man.¡±


    I don''t care. Don''t talk nonsense. You hurt my ears.


    ¡°Interesting quote, isn''t it?¡±


    Go away. Don''t come here. You are not welcome.


    ¡°I can''t, because you''re here. So am I.¡±


    Who are you? Why don''t I know you? I can''t see your face.


    ¡°That''s sad. I know who you are. More than you do. A man who gives up. Suicidal person but yet also a coward. You should have died a long time ago.¡±


    Who are you? How do you know? How?


    ¡°I''m always here. Bleeding. Wounded. Festering. Rotting. My pus drips thickly with blood. When you forget me. But I always remember. This pain.¡±


    Tell me who are you? I don''t know. I don''t understand.


    ¡°The world is changing. Maybe we will too. For no man ever steps in the same river twice, for it¡¯s not the same river and he¡¯s not the same man.¡±


    Don''t go. Explain what you mean? What are you really?


    It fades. This darkness. It crumbles. The light comes. A new day. New horizons.


    ¡­.


    I think I fell asleep¡­ I was counting the cracked walls when it happened. A dream? Maybe. A nightmare? Not exactly. It felt more like staring at something unsettling yet familiar. Like d¨¦j¨¤ vu, but wrong. Was this dream trying to tell me something? Give me a clue? I don¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯ll ask Poma later. Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.


    The sun had started to rise, and hunger pulled me out of my thoughts. I got up and grabbed some fruit from the altar¡ªnot far from where I¡¯d slept. Enyeka was still curled up, fast asleep. Poma was probably resting too. Or maybe she doesn¡¯t need rest? I don¡¯t understand how beings like her work¡ªare they spirits? Something else entirely? I¡¯m curious, but asking about it feels wrong. Better to leave that question alone for now.


    Maybe someday I¡¯ll learn more about this world. But then again, doesn''t this kind of thing fall under mystical knowledge? If so, maybe it¡¯s better not to think about it. Forget it. Focus on surviving here instead.


    I didn¡¯t get any LitRPG-style system or overpowered abilities after coming here. All I got was the title of ¡°chosen one,¡± which feels more like a curse than a blessing. Doesn¡¯t that make me the unluckiest person in existence?


    In most stories like this, the protagonist gets some kind of cheat. Something like super strength, magic powers, plot armor. Sure, I have my own little plot armor. I met Poma, who¡¯s helping me survive until now. But is that enough? We¡¯re talking about a Lovecraftian setting here. A world of madness and horror. What happens when I run into an indescribable entity? Plot armor won¡¯t save me from that. The thought alone stresses me out.


    In the middle of eating and sorting fruits, a voice echoed in my head.


    ¡°You woke up so early. Did something happen?¡±


    It was Poma. Since she couldn¡¯t always maintain her physical form, she¡¯d gone ¡°invisible¡± again. I had to get used to it¡ªit felt like talking to a ghost.


    ¡°A dream. But I don¡¯t know what it means. Can you interpret dreams?¡± I asked.


    I didn¡¯t know where Poma was, and the voice felt like it was speaking directly into my mind. To make the conversation feel more normal, I faced the altar, pretending she was standing there.


    ¡°No, I can¡¯t do that. But I¡¯m sure you can figure it out yourself,¡± Poma replied.


    Didn¡¯t I say earlier that I couldn¡¯t? Fine, I¡¯ll just drop it.


    ¡°Forget it then,¡± I said.


    That''s how I started my day. Eating the remaining fruit on the altar and then spending time wandering around. Of course, I didn¡¯t dare go far. Enyeka stayed by my side. Even though I was used to living without TV or internet, it wasn¡¯t by choice¡ªit was because I didn¡¯t have money. If I did, maybe I¡¯d have bought a new TV and installed WiFi.


    But stuck in the middle of a forest with no options? I was going stir-crazy. Staring at tree after tree, counting leaves and blades of grass, looking for ways to kill time. Boring. Very boring.


    In the afternoon, Poma sent Enyeka to gather ingredients for the potion she would make for me. This time, Poma appeared in her physical form again. Out of sheer boredom, I asked:


    ¡°Is this your true form, or can you change into something else?¡±


    She smiled faintly, as if she¡¯d been waiting for the question. ¡°Sure, I can be a man if you want. Would you prefer me as a muscular guy? Or do you like me the way I am now?¡±


    I immediately regretted asking. What an idiotic question.


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    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have asked that. I prefer you as a beautiful goddess. At least that brightens up my day,¡± I said quickly.


    Poma was still wearing the white robe that covered almost her entire body¡ªthe one I¡¯d requested. Now it felt like a waste. I couldn¡¯t see her curves or pale skin anymore. But hey, this was my decision. Becoming a decent person isn¡¯t easy.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re comfortable with my appearance. You¡¯re the first person to say that in a long time. Most people don¡¯t even remember my name,¡± Poma replied with a little smile on her face.


    The atmosphere grew awkward because of my stupid question. Maybe I should change the subject?


    ¡°Are there humans who study mystical knowledge? And how rare are they?¡± I asked, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.


    Because previously Poma mentioned people going insane from learning mystical knowledge. Dangerous stuff. So why would anyone study it? Were they just idiots looking for trouble? But considering the Lovecraftian theme, occultism must be fairly common, right? That means many might secretly dabble in it. I hadn¡¯t thought about it before.


    ¡°Of course, there are¡ªor at least there were. In the past, humans relied heavily on this knowledge. But over time, it was slowly forgotten. Now, only a few people might know anything about it. That¡¯s all I can say.¡± Poma explained.


    So, my guess was right. If some still study mystical knowledge, then occultism likely exists in society, even if it¡¯s hidden. Assuming this world¡¯s technology is around medieval levels. The usual isekai standard. Then that makes sense.


    But Poma¡¯s explanation left gaps. If humans once depended on mystical knowledge. Then this is very strange. Let''s say if there is a world that has magic, shouldn''t the magic there develop more and more over time? Of course, the direction of development will depend greatly on what happens there. But the impression I get. It seems like the mystical knowledge in this world was forgotten on purpose? There must have been an era where mystical entities were more active than the current era. Is there something blocking them? Or are they doing it on purpose? This makes me a little curious.


    Then I shook my head. No point overthinking it. I didn¡¯t want to lose my mind chasing answers I wasn¡¯t ready for.


    At times like this, I regret not reading more horror stories. Especially Lovecraftian ones. My knowledge of the genre is limited. Why? Because reading Lovecraftian horror is depressing. My life is already hard enough without adding that kind of bleakness to it.


    How could it not be? Reading those stories at night just amplifies the hopelessness and helplessness I already feel. It¡¯s like staring into a mirror that reflects everything wrong with existence. Just thinking about it makes me irritated.


    At the same time, Enyeka returned. Before heading out to gather ingredients, Poma had strapped a small bag onto her back. At first, I doubted she could manage it on her own¡ªshe¡¯s just an animal, after all. How could she collect items and stuff them into that tiny bag? But she did it. Inside the bag, I spotted leaves... and twigs? Then there were mushrooms and also some kind of small red berries.


    With the ingredients gathered, Poma led me to one of the temple¡¯s intact rooms. There was a mortar and pestle, along with the pot of water I¡¯d filled the day before. Somehow, Enyeka had managed to carry both the water and me while I was unconscious. Because of that now Poma could make the potion.


    ¡°I''ll do this once. Next time you have to do it yourself.¡± Poma said.


    I nodded silently as I watched her work. She began by crushing some leaves and twigs in the mortar, mixing them together. Then she poured in water and closed her eyes, chanting something under her breath. A spell or a mantra? Maybe. I wasn¡¯t sure.


    Afterward, she added the small red berries, crushed them again, and stirred the mixture. From where I stood, it looked like she was just throwing random junk together. It seemed way too simple¡­ almost insultingly so.


    But then, the water started steaming. Boiling, even. How? Was the mortar secretly a portable stove? Did she order this thing off some mystical Amazon Prime delivery? For the first time, I witnessed something that could be called ¡°magic.¡± Sure, it wasn¡¯t flashy like fireballs or wind blades, but it still felt¡­ magical. Even though it feels like a ''low budget'' kind of magic.


    ¡°This process should use fire, but I figured you wouldn¡¯t know how to make it, so I had to use my powers. Also, there¡¯s a special ritual that requires incantations using my name,¡± Poma explained.


    Somehow, her words felt sarcastic, but she wasn¡¯t wrong. I could only accept the truth. After all, I¡¯m just an ordinary person from the 21st century. Survival skills like making fire or building a bed weren¡¯t exactly part of my skill set back there. Unless you count ordering takeout and assembling IKEA furniture as survival skills.


    It¡¯s ironic. Once upon a time, those were basic, everyday skills, but now, in the modern era, most people can¡¯t even start a campfire without Googling ¡°how to make fire without burning down the forest.¡± Too much dependence on technology isn¡¯t always a good thing.


    Then I noticed some mushrooms left unused. What were they for? Don¡¯t tell me Poma messed up the mix?


    ¡°So, what are the mushrooms for?¡± I asked, pointing at them.


    ¡°They¡¯re for you to eat. After drinking this potion, you need to eat these mushrooms at least twice a day. The potion¡¯s effect lasts three days.¡± Poma replied.


    Three days is long enough, but why do I have to eat the mushrooms separately? Why not just mix them into the potion from the start? I didn¡¯t get it. But since I didn¡¯t know any better, I just nodded.


    After Poma gave me a detailed explanation about the ritual and walked me through the potion-making process, I decided to try the potion right away. Since there was no glass, I drank it straight from the mortar.


    I lifted it slowly¡ªit was heavier than I expected¡ªand took a cautious sip. The taste was bitter, with a hint of mint leaves, and there was something gritty, probably bits of the twigs that hadn¡¯t been fully crushed. By the time I finished, my head started to throb slightly.


    Remembering Poma¡¯s instructions, I immediately grabbed one of the mushrooms and ate it raw. To my surprise, the texture was soft, almost like marshmallows. It felt spongy, but the edges were tough and chewy, which was¡­ unexpected, to say the least.


    ¡°Are there any side effects? My head feels dizzy. Then my legs feel a bit weak.¡± I asked.


    Poma just stared at me. Her eyes seemed to scan my body. As if seeing my response after drinking the potion and also eating the mushrooms she gave me.


    ¡°It''s normal, you''ll get used to it. Don''t forget to eat the mushrooms tonight. At least twice a day, remember that.¡± Poma replied. Her face was like a doctor lecturing his patient.


    After finishing the potion, my mind felt calmer. The stress that had been weighing me down seemed to vanish. I don¡¯t know why, but this was exactly what I needed. Since the potion seemed to work, Poma disappeared again. With everything feeling more peaceful, I could finally relax. At least I didn¡¯t have to worry about my nightmares returning. Based on what Poma said, they should get better. I hope she¡¯s right.


    Later, I looked up at the sky. The moon and stars were breathtaking¡ªso beautiful I couldn¡¯t imagine ever getting tired of them. Hopefully, they¡¯d stay like that. Because let¡¯s face it, the days ahead would likely be just as boring. For the first time, I realized boredom could be stressful. But staring at those stars made me feel¡­ better.


    Compared to a day full of nightmares, these boring days are safer. More comfortable. Sure, it feels like a bad isekai story where the main character does nothing meaningful and just plays it safe. But honestly? If I were the protagonist, I¡¯d probably do the same. I wouldn¡¯t be a hero or a savior¡ªI¡¯m too selfish for that. Or maybe¡­ it¡¯s because this world doesn¡¯t feel real to me yet. Maybe, deep down, I¡¯m still waiting to wake up.


    Yeah. That¡¯s me. A boring character. Stuck in a world full of Lovecraftian horror. Trapped in a stupid story. Written by a madman.

 S02: "New Life" Chapter 2

    A new day begins. Not because I want it to¡ªit just does. It feels boring. Like I¡¯m slowly dying from the monotony. The nightmares haven¡¯t returned in the past few days, though, so that¡¯s something. But boredom¡­ it¡¯s becoming unbearable.


    This boredom is now my main problem. After what happened at the river, Poma told me not to wander too far. I don¡¯t want trouble, so I listen. But with no sudden fainting or nightmares lately. I feel restless. I need to do something.


    This forest felt amazing when I first arrived. I want to visit the flower fields again. Maybe see those strange animals. At least it¡¯d be something to break the monotony. Instead, I¡¯m stuck sitting at the temple entrance, staring at the same trees and bushes over and over.


    My only ¡°friend¡± here is Enyeka but she can¡¯t talk. And Poma? She can¡¯t always stay in her physical form. We rarely speak, and when we do, it¡¯s mostly about plants or animals in the forest. She¡¯s been stuck in this temple for so long she doesn¡¯t know much about the world outside.


    Now, I¡¯m just waiting for the people who might come today. They¡¯ll bring offerings for Poma. The fruits on the altar are almost gone after I¡¯ve been eating them for days. Luckily, Enyeka can still find food in the forest¡ªshe brings enough for both of us. My food supply is safe for now, but it¡¯s getting thin.


    So, what now? Count the leaves again? Try something else? Maybe take another walk? But walking around the temple is getting old. Yesterday, I picked up a stone and carved some writing onto a ruined wall. Yeah, I tried writing again. It felt¡­ wrong. I stopped writing, didn¡¯t I? But here I am, carving words into a wall. Is this instinct? Ancient people did it. Carving symbols in caves, leaving their mark. Or is it just a habit?


    I used to write a lot. Story ideas, random thoughts, things I thought would make good plots. But that¡¯s over now. I have to forget about being a writer. Start fresh. Still, the guilt creeps back in when I think about it.


    Like a ghost. Always there, haunting me. Stuck in my head. Or maybe even my soul.


    Maybe I should run again. Run harder. Run farther... and I might be free.


    Yeah, it¡¯s probably fine. This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve thought about it. And it won¡¯t be the last.


    I stood up from where I was sitting and walked out of the temple. This boredom is suffocating. I need to move. Waste some time. It¡¯s not like this time matters anyway.


    Ruins to ruins. One after another. I¡¯m starting to memorize this place¡ªthe details, the positions of each ruin, the path back to the temple. I think I¡¯ve got it down pretty well. Should I go further? Maybe I¡¯ll try to find that flower field again. it''s not that far, right?


    But should I tell Poma first? I don¡¯t want to cause trouble. Still, I¡¯ve been holding back for days now. All I feel is boredom. Endless boredom. Maybe I can just try it? If I get lost, I¡¯ll just walk back here. Yeah, as long as it¡¯s not too far, I should be able to return easily, right? Interesting¡­


    Should I go? There shouldn¡¯t be any problems, right? As long as I know my limits.


    And so, my first adventure began. Not the grand kind¡ªno treasure to find, no world to save. Just a walk to kill boredom. If this were a story, the title might be something like "A Journey Against Boredom." Lame, right? Fits my writing skills perfectly.


    First, I tried to figure out the direction I came from. If I looked at the sun¡¯s position, it should be east¡­ right? But which way was east? And where was north? Wait... this is not earth. Does the sun even rise in the east here? I felt stupid for not thinking about it earlier. Then again, most stories I¡¯ve read never bothered with details like the direction of the sunrise.


    Oh well. Maybe I should just trust my gut. This seemed like the way I came from. My plan was simple: walk straight for about ten minutes. If I didn¡¯t find anything, I¡¯d turn back.


    ¡°This plan is foolproof,¡± I muttered to myself.


    I picked what I thought was the right direction. Or at least, what my gut said so and started walking. Slowly, I scanned the trees and grass around me, choosing paths with fewer obstacles. For the first three minutes, nothing unusual. I could still see the ruins and temple behind me. After five minutes, I felt like I hadn¡¯t gone far enough, so I sped up a little.


    By ten minutes, I found¡­ nothing. Just the same forest. A few birds flew over my head, but that was it. No flower fields. No surprises. Disappointed.


    ¡°Yep, time to go back,¡± I said. I turned around and started walking straight, retracing my steps. Easy enough. No problems so far.


    Then I heard something from the bushes. A sound like an animal that angry, restless. From the silhouette in the distance, it looked big. Like a tiger? Or maybe a wolf?


    Poma did mention that there are predators in the Rossa Forest, like the Arik. A type of wolf. But she also said they¡¯re rare, nomadic, and hardly ever stay in one place. So, theoretically, there shouldn¡¯t be any animals here that could threaten me.


    Still, fear crept in. What if it¡¯s aggressive? What if it¡¯s an Arik? Did I make a mistake coming out here? Maybe I should¡¯ve just stayed in the temple. As the saying goes, regret always comes at the end. How stupid I am.


    Then, slowly, the animal emerged... It looked like a dog, with thin, brown fur. But its head was oversized, and it had... a trunk? An elephant-dog? Or maybe a tapir-dog? To top it off, there was a small horn on its forehead. What was this thing? It felt like I¡¯d stumbled into a creature straight out of Spore.


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    The animal grunted. It sounded angry. At me? Why?


    And just like that, it charged. No time to think. I turned around and bolted, sticking to the plan¡ªonly this time, I had to run. Fast. Because the beast chasing me looked... furious.


    Run and keep running. Time seemed to race alongside me. From tree to tree, bush to bush, grass to grass. But for some reason, it felt like I was going in circles. Was it me, or did this forest just look the same everywhere?


    Slowly, I realized the strange animal wasn¡¯t chasing me anymore. Now¡­ where was I?


    I ran in a straight line. Or at least I thought I did. This should lead me back to the ruins and the temple. Don¡¯t tell me I¡¯m terrible at directions? Or are my eyes playing tricks on me? Okay¡­ calm down. No need to panic. Since nothing¡¯s chasing me now, I might as well slow down and think.


    I kept walking, but it felt like I wasn¡¯t getting anywhere. Like being stuck on a treadmill. Something about this felt¡­ off. An anomaly, just like what happened at the river. But this time, my shadow was still there. When I moved my hands or shifted my body, the shadow followed normally. I grabbed at the grass and bushes¡ªthey felt real enough. This wasn¡¯t a dream. Which meant I hadn¡¯t passed out and slipped into another nightmare.


    ¡°Thank goodness this isn¡¯t a nightmare,¡± I said, feeling relieved.


    But suddenly, a strange voice echoed from nowhere:


    ¡°Who says it¡¯s not?¡±


    I looked around. Nothing. I was alone. Where did that voice come from? Was someone... or something here? A ghost, maybe? My heart started racing, faster and faster. The same feeling. The same situation. That familiar strangeness.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± I asked, scanning my surroundings for the source of the voice.


    At least I have to make sure. This feeling might be wrong. There could be people nearby¡ªI just didn¡¯t see them. That had to be it. Right, that HAS to be the reason.


    ¡°Look down.¡± The strange voice was heard again. But this time it felt closer. As if it was beside me. Or even behind me.


    Then I looked down. And there... I didn''t see my shadow anymore. It disappeared.


    My fears came true. Came alive. And maybe... It came to devour me.


    Right. That means¡­ the nightmare was back.


    ¡°Why are you afraid? Haven''t you always been alone? What does a mere shadow mean to you? Loner.¡± The strange voice asked or rather. Make fun of me.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked.


    I needed to confirm something. If this is really my dream. Or was there another entity involved? Because the world I am in now. Set in Lovecraftian horror. That''s something I have to take into consideration. Or maybe it even has something to do with that mysterious card?


    ¡°Does it matter who I am? That¡¯s not important. What about you? Who are you? Do you even have an answer for that?¡± the voice shot back.


    Why am I the one being questioned? Shouldn¡¯t I be the one asking?


    I began to doubt. If what I thought was a nightmare¡­ wasn¡¯t just a dream. There was something hidden. Behind all of this. It ties into the status of the chosen one. And the mysterious card. The dream card. It¡¯s no coincidence that what haunts me is a nightmare. Because the card I¡¯m holding is a dream card. Makes sense, right? I started to see where this was going.


    ¡°Is this related to the dream card thing?¡± I asked in a provocative tone.


    There was no response. Everything became silent for a moment. Then the voice appeared again.


    ¡°Does your dream have any meaning to you??¡±


    Huh... I saw something. Far away, behind a tree. A black shadow. Standing there. Staring at me. Its eyes glowed red. It felt familiar. Like I¡¯d seen it before. And its mouth¡­ long, forked tongue. Like branching tentacles.


    ¡°Does our dream mean anything to you?¡±


    ...


    ¡°Does my dream mean anything to you?¡±


    ...


    My body seemed to freeze for a moment...


    My head hurts too at the same time...


    My heart is also beating faster...


    ...


    ¡°Don''t run away from me. Don''t leave me. Alone.¡±


    Of course, I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to listen to him. I ran as hard as I could. Didn¡¯t care which way. The most important thing was to run. As fast as possible. As strong as I could.


    Breaking through trees. Then bushes. I passed them all. But then¡­


    ¡°AHHHH... AHHHH AHHHH... AHHHH AHHHH... AHHHH AHHHH... AHHHH...¡±


    A loud scream echoed from behind. I didn¡¯t turn my head. Didn¡¯t look back. Just ran. And ran. But where? Where should I go? I didn¡¯t know. Just moved without direction. Without a clue.


    ¡°DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE...¡±


    The screams came again. Loud. Piercing. My ears.


    Unfortunately, my bad luck kicked in. I tripped. Fell hard onto the ground. My head throbbed. My feet ached. Especially my knees. They were bleeding.


    ¡°Damn why.¡± I screamed.


    Where is my armor plot? Is this because my bad luck is stronger? This is not the treatment of a main character. But more like a disposable side character.


    As I tried to get up and steady my legs, I noticed something. The screams were gone. I didn¡¯t hear them anymore. Was he not chasing me? Didn¡¯t want to think too long about it. I just focused on standing up slowly. Then started walking away. My legs hurt from running. So, I walked slowly. With a limp. Using the trees around me to help balance myself.


    A few moments later, I had walked quite far. Even with a limp, I forced myself to move fast. As fast as I could. While enduring the pain. Especially in my knees. It felt like they were going to fall off. But when I felt safe enough. I stopped for a moment. Leaned against a large tree. Cleaned my dirty, dusty wound.


    I just sat down and then...


    ¡°HELLO.¡±


    The voice came again. Then I saw it...


    The shadow was beneath me. Clinging back to me. Like a parasite.


    I changed my mind and ran again. Although limping. But I ignored my pain. And ran as hard as I could. It felt like time had stopped. And I was trapped in it. Trapped in hell.


    ¡°DON''T LEAVE ME ALONE.¡±


    The screams echoed again.


    I kept running. Didn¡¯t look back. But I was out of breath. My legs grew weak. Blood dripped from my knees, staining the ground. I felt like I was about to collapse. Then something grabbed my hand. Pulling me back. It felt wet, sticky, like slime. But soon, a burning sensation spread through my skin. I forced myself to look back.


    There it was. That horrifying shadow.


    Pitch black. Small tentacles wriggled all over its body. Its mouth was wide open, torn and gaping, like it could swallow me whole.


    ¡°WHY DO YOU ALWAYS RUN AWAY? DO YOU WANT TO DIE?¡±


    The shadow screamed in front of me. Death felt close. Too close. Like it was about to devour me.


    ¡°IT LOOKS LIKE YOU REALLY WANT TO DIE.¡±


    Suddenly, it let go of my hand. I fell. But strangely, I didn¡¯t hit the ground. Instead, I floated for a moment, then began to fall slowly. In an instant, I realized I was free-falling. And then I saw it¡ªI was on the edge of a cliff. So the shadow had been holding me this whole time.


    Why? Shouldn¡¯t it be a monster? Shouldn¡¯t it want to devour me?


    Why was I suddenly on the edge of a cliff? Why didn¡¯t I see it before?


    Someone¡­ please tell me¡­


    Am I going to die? The cliff looked high. Time seemed to slow down. Is this what it feels like to die slowly? At least I wanted it to end quickly. Painless. I closed my eyes.


    But the shadow¡­ It seemed to keep watching me. Did it have something to say? Why was it chasing me? What did I do wrong? Why was it haunting me?


    Then everything went black. And empty. Again.

 S02: "New Life" Chapter 3

    Again, everything went dark. Empty. Alone. But this time, I was sure it wasn¡¯t a dream. Because I could still feel the pain. My whole body hurt, like it was breaking apart. Especially my head and chest. It couldn¡¯t be a dream, right? Too real. Too painful.


    Slowly, I began to hear voices. At first, they were unclear¡ªmy ears were ringing. But as the moments passed, the sound grew clearer. It was like a group of people talking. Still, I couldn¡¯t be sure. After so many strange events, the only voice I¡¯d heard outside my nightmares was Poma¡¯s. And the rest? Just creatures from my dreams.


    This made me wonder again. Is this real, or am I still dreaming? But pain was getting worse. Then I felt like I was leaking. Blood. Coming out. I was bleeding. I felt wet. The smell of blood. My consciousness was also... gone.


    ....


    I started to regain consciousness, but I couldn¡¯t open my eyes. My body felt petrified¡ªfrozen, stiff, and weak. Like a Tesla running out of battery. Useless. At the same time, I could feel someone touching my skin. I wasn¡¯t dead, right? But for some reason, my eyes wouldn¡¯t open, and my ears couldn¡¯t hear anything. Just darkness. And weakness. My body was completely helpless.


    Then came a sharp pain in my head. It felt like a knife was stabbing me, cutting into my brain, pulling everything out. The pain was unbearable. I¡¯d never felt anything like it before. It felt like my head might fall off.


    ¡®Help me,¡¯ I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn¡¯t move.


    Followed by almost the same pain but all over my body. It felt like being stabbed by a thousand knives. Just one would have been enough to kill me. But there were thousands of them. Killing me hundreds of times. Over and over again.


    ¡®Just kill me.¡¯ I willed, my mind screaming what my body couldn''t express.


    In the midst of that hellish torture feeling, I could hear a whisper. Very soft. Very distant.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    It was a woman''s voice. Similar to... Poma''s voice?


    Even though I recognized it, it didn¡¯t matter. I couldn¡¯t reply. My mouth wouldn¡¯t move. My eyes wouldn¡¯t open. I was scared. The pain was unbearable. Please, make it stop. I can¡¯t take it anymore.


    ¡°Calm down. I will help you.¡±


    Please¡­ help me. Don¡¯t leave me. This pain¡­ it¡¯s killing me. Make it stop. Please¡­ I¡¯m dying. Don¡¯t leave me alone. Again.


    ¡°Calm yourself. And your emotions. Trust me. You are not alone.¡±


    Lies¡­ I¡¯m falling deeper. Into this darkness. Deeper and deeper. The pain is slowly fading. So are my senses. Is this what death feels like? True emptiness? Where life is lost. My life. At least it doesn''t hurt anymore. Let me sleep again. Don''t wake me up again.


    ...


    Lost... I don''t feel it... My life... My poor life... My terrible life...


    Pain... Anxiety... Disappointment... Fear... Gone...


    Am I finally free? Really free? Freed from everything?


    "How do you feel? Does death set you free?"


    I don''t know... I''m just free... At last...


    ¡°It''s just an illusion you created. Freedom is not running away.¡±


    What''s wrong? What do you know about me?


    ¡°Know Thyself. Then the truth will be seen.¡±


    What truth? What''s there to see?


    ¡°For you to know the difference between dreams and reality.¡±


    Dream? Reality? Didn''t I die? Leave me alone¡­ I just want to die...


    ¡°I loved you but you never loved me. Now you want to leave me?¡±


    Who are you? Do I know you?


    ¡°I hurt when you hurt. I bleed when you bleed. I will die when you die.¡±


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    I don''t know you. Who are you? What are you?


    ¡°I''m not going anywhere. I''m always here. You have to find out. Who I am. Who we really are.¡±


    I don''t understand. Don''t give me a riddle. Tell me the truth.


    ¡°My time is up. The truth will never go away. It will never change. You have to find it yourself.¡±


    Don''t leave... Tell me... The truth...


    Why didn''t I know it? Why can''t I see it?


    Something... Pulled me... Forcing me...


    Light appears... My ears are ringing... My body... Returned...


    Sensation. Warmth. Touch. Sound. Stimulates me.


    Am I awake? Really awake? Or is this another lie?


    I could slowly open my eyes. Along with a familiar looking place. With a familiar figure.


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡±


    It was Poma''s voice. Soft. And familiar.


    ¡°Can you see me?¡±


    Her face. Beautiful. Fragrant. I remember her.


    ¡°You''ll be fine. I''ll help you.¡±


    I just want to sleep. It hurts. My body hurts.


    What¡¯s happening? Bright light flooded my vision, accompanied by a distant song. Life seemed to flow back into me. Fragile and fleeting. Filling the emptiness. Weakness overtook me as sensation returned to my limbs. Reality began seeping in, knocking at the edges of my consciousness. Pulling me awake, forcing me back to my senses.


    ¡°Poma is that you?¡± I asked in a husky voice.


    A female figure hovered above me. It had to be Poma. My eyes were still blurry, but I was certain it was her. Yet, something felt off. Next to Poma, another figure lingered in the corner of the room. A woman with long hair. Who was she? And, where was I?


    ¡°Your body is injured. In addition, there are indications of corruption. You nearly lost your mind.¡± Poma replied. I feel like she''s worried and maybe angry at the same time? After all, I was the one who made this happen. My stupidity.


    ¡°What is corruption? Is it bad?¡± I asked. Because I don''t think this is related to corruption in the sense of money or morals, right?


    ¡°It means an imbalance in your soul. If not stopped, you will slowly lose your rationality.¡± Poma replied.


    Huh? Rationality? It feels like I''m slowly losing it. Or rather. The sense of closeness to reality. I feel more and more detached. Even my rationality seems to be slowly eroding? This explains a lot of things.


    ¡°You seem to realize something? Is it that dream again? That nightmare came up again?¡± Poma asked again.


    I can''t explain it. But it''s better to say it because Poma might have a way out.


    ¡°I don''t know. Was it a dream? Is it my past? Is it myself? I don''t know what I saw.¡± I replied trying to explain it.


    Because I don''t understand. And never want to understand it. Maybe this is the real problem. I have to slowly figure this out. If not, maybe this will continue to haunt me. Maybe even... devour me.


    ¡°Since you decided not to take the path of the chosen one. Then I suggest from now on to start keeping your thoughts in check. Don''t let negative thoughts get the best of you.¡± Poma replied. She seemed pretty serious with her words.


    I had no choice but to accept her suggestion. Although I feel that I should find out for myself what the source of this problem is. I worried that my life would never be at peace without it.


    ¡°Okay, I got it.¡± I replied.


    For a while. I just lay there, resting. As my mind cleared. I began to recognize the place I was in. This was the temple in the middle of the ruins and the place where Poma resided. I don''t know how I suddenly found myself here. Did someone bring me here? Or did Enyeka bring me here?


    Poma later told me what happened. It turned out that it was true that I had fallen into the cliff. But that cliff should be very far away from this place. That felt strange, I didn¡¯t feel like I¡¯d wandered that far. Luckily, some people coming to the temple for offerings saw me fall and brought me back. A miracle? Or maybe this is my plot armor? Whatever it was, I was alive now. But¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure if I should feel lucky or unlucky.


    It also explains there was another figure in this room before. A woman. But she seemed to have left in the middle of my conversation with Poma before. Then Poma told me those people didn¡¯t mind helping me and took me to their village near the forest. However, she said I needed to rest for a few days before leaving. They were fine with waiting and would spend the time foraging nearby.


    I spent the rest of the day feeling pain all over my body. I reflected on everything I¡¯d experienced so far. Didn¡¯t Socrates say that an examined life is one of constant self-reflection? Maybe I could start noticing things I¡¯d missed until now.


    Like, what is a dream? What is a nightmare? How do they connect to reality? Can dreams and reality influence each other? From my experience so far, the answer seems to be yes¡ªbut only to a certain extent. There¡¯s still so much I don¡¯t understand. My choice to avoid mystical knowledge doesn¡¯t help either. Without knowing the secrets behind it, truly understanding what¡¯s happening to me feels almost impossible.


    At least thanks to Poma, I am alive today. It seems like it took a lot out of her. Her expression is different, and the mystical aura she usually carries feels weaker now. I owe her so much. She keeps helping me without asking for anything in return. Something about this feels strange, but I can¡¯t figure out why.


    Why would Poma go to this extent for me? What was the reason? Is it because of my status as a chosen one? But she didn''t force me and even gave me choices and helped me adjust in this world.


    What I know now is that I need to control my thoughts. Poma was right. Next time, even if I¡¯m bored, I have to hold back. I can¡¯t let negative thoughts take over. Poma didn¡¯t explain much, but I think I understand. She said the nightmares might come from me¡ªfrom my own mind.


    But what can a depressed person like me do? Pretend I¡¯m happy because I¡¯m living some kind of isekai fantasy? Become the main character? Fix my terrible fate? No way. I can¡¯t pretend anymore. But I can¡¯t accept this reality either. This situation is harder than I ever imagined.


    I want to go back¡­


    At least there, I didn¡¯t have to worry about being devoured by my own nightmares or facing unknown horrors in this Lovecraftian world. My life has become my own monster. That''s more than enough. I don''t need something like Cthulhu or Nyarlathotep to top it off.


    Yeah¡­ I want to go home. I¡¯m scared¡­ I¡¯m alone¡­ I might die¡­


    Someone, please wake me up from this nightmare. I just want to go home. A safe place. A comfortable place. Not a dreadful place. Not a frightening place.

 S02: "New Life" Chapter 4

    The morning sunlight greets me. With a warm and gentle touch, it filters through the cracks in the temple walls, casting long, golden streaks across the floor. Along with the breeze that drifts in like a fresh sheet being shaken out, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and wildflowers. This is my new reality. I have to accept the fact; this is not a dream. Moreover, I¡¯ve tasted death¡ªor rather, almost died. But a new day still greets me. Again. And again.


    It¡¯s not life if we don¡¯t get caught up in the wheel of life. A wheel that spins uncertainly, erratically. And no one knows where it will turn.


    A few days have passed. My body is feeling better. Unfortunately, Poma had to take a long rest. It seems she used up a lot of power to help me. I¡¯m grateful. I never thought I¡¯d be happy to stay alive. Even though life is painful. Where we will continue to be hurt as long as we live. Like a curse. One that doesn¡¯t come off. Bound forever.


    Back to the present reality. I¡¯ve owed Poma a lot of debt, and I don¡¯t know whether I¡¯ll be able to repay it or not. She has saved me so many times. For no reason. Nor purpose. This keeps bothering me. But what could I do? Other than accepting her help?


    One thing that disappoints me about her: she never mentioned the language issue. So, I only just realized that the languages here are different. They don¡¯t speak English. Surprising? Not really. It actually makes sense. Still, it makes me wonder how Poma has been able to talk to me this whole time. Does she have some kind of automatic translation ability?


    Then because of this, I never thought of this language problem as one of the things I need to pay attention to. After all, it¡¯s not something that¡¯s commonly found in Isekai stories in general. It¡¯s only natural that I missed it. Those writers need to be more creative and sensitive about basic issues like this.


    What can I do? I¡¯m just a character in the story, right? I just have to accept this terrible reality.


    This makes the world seem to be against me. But Poma said to hold back my negative thoughts, so I try to take it easy and just accept the situation at hand. But language isn¡¯t the only problem. There¡¯s the matter of food. That¡¯s right, food. I hadn¡¯t thought about this either. Who would have thought that this foreign world would have evolved in a different way from what¡¯s on Earth?


    It means basic things like taste preferences and food types are completely different. Surprising? Of course. While Earth has many cultures with their own foods, here they¡¯ve taken it to a whole new level.


    I was thinking about bread at first. Yes, because of the appearance of the people who helped me. They seemed to be wearing simple and modest medieval European clothes. So, I thought there wouldn¡¯t be much difference. But in fact, there is no bread here. Or maybe it hasn¡¯t been found yet? I don¡¯t know. They¡¯ve only been making various kinds of soup or porridge for the past few days.


    One of the porridges is incredibly bland. It seems to be made from mashed roots, cooked down to a mushy consistency that sticks to the roof of my mouth. The texture is gritty, like sand mixed with glue. They also add some kind of beans to almost every dish. The problem? These beans are extremely sour! When you chew them, the sourness explodes in your mouth. Sharp and overwhelming, making it hard to keep eating. To balance it out, they serve a kind of white liquid that tastes like mint, cool and slightly numbing. The combination is strange. Beyond anything my Earthling brain can understand.


    I wonder what Gordon Ramsay would say if he tried it.


    Maybe he will feel like he ate poison or something.


    I wouldn¡¯t blame him. I felt the same way. Honestly, I thought they were trying to kill me with their abstract cooking. I couldn¡¯t eat it. But there was no other food. And it forced me to eat it. Now I regret it. Because I had diarrhea afterwards. My stomach wasn¡¯t born to eat these otherworldly foods. The cramps hit hard, twisting my insides like someone wringing out a wet cloth. I spend hours hunched over, clutching my abdomen, wishing I could crawl into a hole and disappear.


    Whatever it is, the dice have been rolled. And this is what I got. I have to adapt quickly, and thankfully, I¡¯m not doing this alone.


    It feels strange. I used to talk to Poma so casually, but now I see others worshipping her¡ªmaking offerings, singing, and dancing for her. Their voices rise in harmony, soft chants filling the air like a low hum that vibrates through the stone walls. The scent of burning herbs lingers heavily, earthy and sharp. Making my nose twitch. I¡¯ve witnessed these rituals several times, and it still doesn¡¯t feel real that I¡¯ve been helped by a goddess these people revere.


    Not once. But many times. Even Enyeka is treated with reverence. Last night, these people gave her food and smeared a kind of oil on her head. The oil smells rich and floral, like crushed jasmine mixed with something spicy, and they also applied it to parts of the temple itself, leaving the air thick with its fragrance.


    Among the five people who helped me and came to this temple, one of them is the priestess, Aliyah. She¡¯s a woman with long brown hair wearing a simple white robe that folds loosely over her body. It seems to be a ceremonial garment because she only wears this when entering the temple, and she stays at the altar for most of the day. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s doing there, exactly.


    What I do know is that Aliyah can communicate with me. Not because she understands English, but through some kind of spirit language. It seems similar to telepathy, allowing her to speak directly to my mind without words. Poma uses something like this too. The catch? I have to wear the necklace Poma gave me, and I can¡¯t stray too far from Aliyah. It affects how well this spirit language works.


    One other interesting thing: Aliyah is blind. I don¡¯t know what happened to her, but she can¡¯t see. Because of this, I¡¯m staying with her at the shrine while the other four are out foraging in the forest. I¡¯m here not just to keep her company but also to help if she needs anything after finishing her duties at the altar.


    It¡¯s a bit boring, but what can I do? I just wait, sitting in the corner of the room. The fragrance near the altar is overpowering, cloyingly sweet and sharp. Stinging my nose until it feels raw. My eyes water slightly as I try to breathe through my mouth instead.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Then I see Aliyah stand up. She had been sitting in front of the altar for a while, her hands resting gently on her lap. I quickly walk over to her. I just want to help her walk. The temple¡¯s uneven, half-destroyed floor makes it hard for her to move on her own. Her bare feet shuffle cautiously over the cracked stones, each step hesitant.


    I stand beside her, offering my arm for support. Her hands are soft and smooth, cool against my skin, and I can smell a strong, pungent fragrance clinging to her clothes, almost medicinal in its intensity. After guiding her carefully, we reach the outer area of the temple. We both slowly sit down on the steps, the cold stone pressing into my thighs.


    The breeze picks up outside, carrying the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. It feels refreshing compared to the heavy atmosphere inside the temple. For a moment, I close my eyes, letting the wind brush against my face, cool and soothing.


    Now we just have to wait for the other four to return from the forest. Today is the day I can finally leave the forest and these ruins behind and head back to civilization. Though I feel a bit pessimistic about what might await me, curiosity still lingers in the back of my mind. I imagine adventures in this strange world, but deep down, I know I won¡¯t do anything reckless. All I really want is to live a normal life.


    ¡°My lady seems exhausted. It seems like helping you made her pay quite a price,¡± Aliyah says, her voice soft but carrying an edge of concern. She looks at me with her strange gaze. Her blind eyes somehow piercing through me, as if she sees more than sight alone allows.


    Although she may not be as beautiful as Poma in the sense of having pale white and smooth facial skin, Aliyah is still quite an attractive woman. Her long brown hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves, catching the sunlight that filters through the cracks in the temple walls. Somehow, like Poma, her words often feel sharp and unexpected, cutting straight to the heart of things.


    ¡°I had no intention of doing that. But you¡¯re right, I do owe her a lot,¡± I reply to Aliyah.


    Then she smiles at me and, with a chuckle, says, ¡°You are lucky. Not everyone can get a blessing from a being like her. Ordinary people can only accept the fate we receive.¡±


    An ordinary person? Did she not see me as a normal human being? Did Poma tell her about the mysterious card I had and my status as a chosen one?


    Before I can ask her, she adds, ¡°I know you have many secrets. Rest assured, I won¡¯t tell anyone even if I know something. That was one of the promises I made to my lady.¡±


    I don¡¯t know why, but¡­ Poma and Aliyah both seem to have something in common when it comes to speaking. Often leaving only half-information and giving a very mysterious impression. But I shouldn¡¯t worry, because Poma herself arranged all this. So, it should all be fine, right?


    ¡°Looks like I scared you a little there. You don¡¯t talk too much. And I don¡¯t know anything about you either. Maybe while waiting for the others, could you tell me what your home place is like?¡± Aliyah changes the subject while smiling at me. Her brown eyelids flutter slightly, her expression warm despite her blindness.


    But speaking of home... do I even have one? After my father¡¯s death, everything changed. It¡¯s hard to think of home as the same place it used to be. Explaining the details of modern life wouldn¡¯t help Aliyah understand anyway¡ªour worlds are just too different. So, what I can say is very limited. Or maybe I never had a home again after my father was gone. I don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t explain it.


    ¡°It¡¯s a very different world. Hard to explain. But compared to this world, my place feels like a sick and dying one. It¡¯s only a matter of time before it all ends,¡± I say to her, staring at the bright sunlight streaming through the broken windows. A sun that isn¡¯t quite like the one I remember.


    Because I realize something. This place. This world. It¡¯s going to be my home from now on. I need to accept that. There¡¯s regret, sure, and maybe even a longing to go back to Earth. But is that really possible? How many people in isekai stories actually return? Almost none, I think.


    Aliyah hums softly, considering my words. ¡°A dying world? That doesn¡¯t sound too different from this one. Maybe you won¡¯t have a hard time adapting because of that. In the end, you¡¯re just changing places. Life, I think, is the same everywhere.¡± She chuckles, a warmth in her voice that oddly soothes me.


    Her words hit the mark. Whether it¡¯s Earth or this foreign world, life remains the same. The same struggles, just in different places. The realization settles something in me. If there were no unknown entities or lurking Lovecraftian horrors, this could almost be the perfect world for me.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I admit. ¡°But aren¡¯t there gods here? I don¡¯t know much about them, but don¡¯t they have a strong influence on this world?¡± Even Poma had avoided discussing them in detail, only ever giving me vague warnings.


    Aliyah exhales, her expression shifting, something weary creeping into her features. ¡°The gods? Your life will be fine as long as you accept your fate.¡± There¡¯s a pause, her fingers absently tracing the fabric of her robe. ¡°Though I hate to admit it, the teachings of the West may have a point. Humans are mortal beings bound by fate.¡± Her expression wilts. Like a flower left too long in the sun. The smile on her lips fades, and for a moment. She seems lost in thought.


    Then she turns to me, leaning in slightly, her presence close enough that the scent of temple oils and faint herbs fills my nose. ¡°But I think you¡¯re different,¡± she murmurs. ¡°Two humans won¡¯t see things the same way, even if they look at the same place. What do you think? Do you believe fate binds us all?¡±


    Fate? More like a curse to me. Maybe there¡¯s some truth to it. That my dreams can¡¯t be achieved could be because it¡¯s my fate. But if that¡¯s true, why should I bother dreaming of becoming a writer in the first place? What¡¯s the point of living if everything is predetermined?


    Hah! This reminds me of Oedipus¡¯ tragic story. I hope I don¡¯t end up with the same ill-fated life.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be able to answer yet? What¡¯s bothering you?¡± asks Aliyah, who again returns with a faint smile on her face.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯re right, and I couldn¡¯t find any other answers either. Then I remembered a tragic story from where I come from. A story about how strongly fate can bind us,¡± I reply while looking down at my hands. They¡¯re calloused now, rough from days of gripping tree branches and stumbling over roots in the forest.


    Ironically, there¡¯s also the saying: destiny is in our hands.


    It¡¯s just that. I don¡¯t think this expression means anything. Especially if we never had the power to change it in the first place? What can humans do against fate and the cycles of this world? Other than hope for mercy or miracles?


    As I sink deeper into my thoughts, Aliyah suddenly perks up. Though I know she is blind, something in her dark eyes seems to glimmer with interest.


    ¡°I¡¯m interested in hearing the story of where you came from. Maybe when the others come, you can share them with the rest of us?¡± Aliyah replies with an eager expression. I don¡¯t know what makes her so interested in me or the things from Earth.


    We hardly even spoke before except in times of need. This was the first time she¡¯s been so active like this.


    But it¡¯s not bad. I should also start getting to know Aliyah and the others as well. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll tell you about it. You can tell the others later,¡± I reply briefly.


    Aliyah then takes my hand and says, ¡°Thank you. I will be very happy to hear it.¡± Her grip is gentle but firm, her fingers cool against my skin.


    But then I remember. I¡¯m a terrible writer. Will I even be able to tell the Oedipus story properly? I hope my storytelling skills aren¡¯t as poor as my writing. If they are, I might have to question the point of my existence.

 S02: "New Life" Chapter 5

    The night bites with a wind howling through the trees, piercing my skin like ice needles. Thick darkness blankets everything, broken only by the bonfire blazing wildly in front of me. The sound of wood cracking and sparks leaping into the air makes our shadows dance on the ground like cloth puppets. Warmth creeps into my fingertips, chasing away the chill that had seeped into my bones.


    In my hands, a wooden bowl of warm soup steams. Thick vapor rises, mixing a sharp herbal scent with a strong minty aroma. I blow gently on the surface, hesitant to taste it, afraid it will be too bland or too sour. Beside me, Aliyah sits silently, hugging her knees. Her eyes are fixed on the fire, staring blankly into the flames.


    Not far from us, two young men are crouched down. One has long brown hair and a sturdy build, the other short black hair and a thin frame. They are Roka and Gomar, squatting on the muddy ground, skinning a carcass that looks like a small rat with rusty knives. The sound of tearing flesh and the hissing of Asel, a young woman with long brown hair who is sharpening a flint, answer each other. The fishy smell of fresh blood mixed with damp earth stings my nose, making me wrinkle it.


    What experiment are they going to do next? I wonder to myself. The rustle of wind outside the tent is faintly audible, but my mind is too full to really pay attention to it. I don''t dare voice my thoughts. Besides, I don''t understand anything they are saying anyway.


    Earlier today, the sky was still orange when I finally managed to leave the temple after waiting for so long. My shadow stretched long on the dusty ground as the damp mossy scent from the old walls clung to my nose. Poma didn''t appear even as I left. Only his weary voice echoed in my head: "Farewell, Ryan." Such a short farewell.


    "What are you thinking about?" Aliyah asks suddenly. Her voice breaks my trance.


    Actually, I was thinking about many things during the journey earlier. But they were busy with their own affairs, and besides, I don''t understand their language. So, I felt awkward interrupting their conversation and kept my questions to myself. Maybe now is a good time to ask? After all, Aliyah is the only person I can talk to, right? The scent of dry earth and warm stones is faintly present as I take a deep breath.


    "What are they doing? Making food?" I ask, watching the meat skewers sizzling over the fire. Thick smoke billows, mixing the smells of salt and spices, stinging my nose. Roka fans the embers with dry leaves, making sparks jump like fireflies in the night.


    Aliyah just smiles, her dimples clearly visible in the orange light. Her lips tremble, holding back a small laugh. "Because throughout the journey to the temple and when we are near the temple, it is tradition to forbid eating meat. Since we are now far enough from the temple, they want to eat meat as soon as possible." she explains. Her voice is soft but clear, like water flowing over stones.


    Meanwhile, the night wind blows gently, making the bonfire crackle louder. I hug my knees, thinking about the village where I will live later. Can I be like them? Can I tell stories freely and laugh without hesitation?


    Aliyah must sense my silence. Her empty eyes stare straight at me, as if she can see my wavering shadow in the firelight. "Why don''t you tell that story again later? I quite like that story of yours." she asks suddenly. In the distance, crickets chirp back and forth, filling the silence that is created.


    Why does Aliyah like stories like this? In my opinion, it¡¯s a tragedy that even in the modern era feels heavy. I¡¯ve never seen anyone adapt this story for the big screen, and it seems like not many people even know about it.


    ¡°Is that story so interesting to you? I don¡¯t think it¡¯s an interesting story at all,¡± I retort, eyeing the remnants of the cooling soup in the wooden bowl. Its steam has long gone, leaving behind a minty scent now mixed with the smell of roasting meat from Roka and Gomar¡¯s direction.


    What part of the Oedipus tragedy is interesting and memorable? I actually feel more depressed if I keep thinking about it. But it seems Aliyah has a different feeling? I don¡¯t know why at all. The sound of crickets in the distance suddenly seems louder, as if joining our conversation.


    ¡°There are many things to take from that story. I hope you can share it with others too. Besides, I think you¡¯re a great storyteller, and this could also make others get to know you better,¡± Aliyah reveals, her eyes sparkling, lit by the firelight. Her voice is soft, but there¡¯s a firmness that makes me turn to her.


    At a glance, her intention isn¡¯t just wanting to hear my story, but also wanting me to interact with others. Indeed, besides the initial introductions, I¡¯ve barely spoken to them again except for Aliyah. Her suggestion doesn¡¯t sound bad, it¡¯s just¡­


    ¡°Are you sure my storytelling ability is good? I can¡¯t even use your language. How can I tell stories to others if you¡¯re the only one who understands my words?¡± I ask, scratching the wooden bowl in my hands.


    ¡°Why do you doubt your own abilities? I quite enjoy the way you tell stories. About the language, I¡¯ll help translate. You can tell stories comfortably without worry,¡± Aliyah replies with a smile. There''s a teasing tone in her voice, but I choose to stay silent.


    But since I have no reason to refuse either, maybe there¡¯s no harm in doing it, right? So, all I can do is nod my head in agreement with her suggestion.


    Then the fragrant smell of roasting meat suddenly fills my nostrils while Asel starts cutting the meat into small portions, mixing it with fresh green leaves in a wooden bowl. Not long after, Roka and Gomar walk over, carrying wooden bowls that are still warm. Roka smiles broadly as he hands me my bowl, saying something I don''t understand. His laughter booms, making the bonfire seem to tremble. Aliyah, who listens, suddenly chuckles¡ªa sound I rarely hear.


    ¡°What did he say?¡± I ask, frowning.


    ¡°Roka says, he¡¯s giving you a slightly bigger portion. Because you¡¯re like a child who can¡¯t eat vegetable soup,¡± Aliyah explains, still holding back laughter. I glance at the bowl in my hand¡ªmeat slathered in spices, green leaves clinging to the side. The smell of salt and wood smoke blend, making my stomach rumble.


    Slowly, I lift the first bite. The heat spreads on my tongue, but the unfamiliar, intense spice makes me forget my earlier hesitation. This is the most normal food I¡¯ve been able to eat so far. Luckily, the taste of meat in this world isn''t much different from back on Earth. At least I can eat and don''t need to worry my stomach will ache from eating food with unimaginable flavors again.


    Across from me, I can see Gomar sitting leaning against a tree trunk eating his meat, his eyes closed as if enjoying the night wind. Roka is also talking with Asel, while eating discussing something. Meanwhile, Aliyah is still smiling, her face bright in the firelight.


    Maybe, I think, this could be a not-too-bad start. If I can indeed get closer to them and maybe it¡¯ll also bring me closer to this world.


    So, I don''t hesitate anymore. I start finishing the meat in front of me. I eat the contents of this bowl so eagerly, I finish quickly. Each chew of meat mixes with the tempting smoky aroma. The green leaves beside the meat give a distinct flavor as I eat. There¡¯s a slightly spicy taste, like eating paprika or chili as I chew. And the meat is also tender and juicy when chewed.


    Then I also force myself to eat the soup that has cooled down. The thick texture of the soup with its bland and sour taste intensely blend, making my tongue and my head spin. But I still try to eat and swallow it because I have to get used to this kind of food as well.


    After finishing all the food given to me, my stomach is full and a little sore, probably from eating that strange soup again. But it''s not like the first time I ate it where I immediately got diarrhea all day. I see Aliyah and the others start talking to each other after finishing eating. Then Aliyah looks at me, as if signaling if I am ready for the ¡®storytelling session¡¯ she asked me for earlier.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Aliyah asks me. Smiling, she seems to give me a cue. Her smile blossoms, awaiting the start of the story. I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh cold air into my lungs while calming my mind before starting to tell the story. Meanwhile, Aliyah speaks to the others, asking for their time for a moment and finally all eyes turn to me.


    ¡°You can start,¡± Aliyah says, telling me that I can start the story. The night wind blows gently, as if encouraging me to start soon.


    The dying embers of the bonfire illuminate my face, the heat still lingers on my skin even as the night air stabs from behind. I stand there like a fool on a stage, with four pairs of eyes fixed on me¡ªRoka scratches at the ground with a stick, Gomar holds a bone, a food remnant, Asel sits cross-legged, her hair waving like smoke. The crickets abruptly fall silent, as if nature itself holds its breath.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Maybe I''ll use more poetic words when I tell the story later. I said to myself.


    ¡°I¡­ will tell the story of Oedipus,¡± I murmur, my voice cracking like a dry twig snapping. My throat feels scraped with dust, but I know this story by heart¡ªevery word, every sorrow, every destiny like a snare. Just before my mouth opens, I feel the night wind slip in beneath my clothes, making me shiver. I see Aliyah smile gently, her hand raised, ready to translate. In the distance, the wood fire crackles, breaking the tension.


    ¡°Somewhere far from here, beneath a sky forever veiled in twilight¡¯s muted glow, there lay the city of Thebes¡ªa jewel raised from the earth by the mighty ruler Laius. Men spoke not only of his courage in carving the city from wilderness, but of his palace¡¯s grandeur, its towers gleaming like dawn¡¯s first dew. Yet behind the glittering veil of such splendor, a secret gnawed at the king¡¯s soul: though bound by years of marriage, he and his queen had never cradled an heir.


    One night, as whispers of wind stirred the sacred leaves near Delphi¡¯s temple, Laius felt dread coil in his chest. Heart heavy as stone, he sought Pythia, the Oracle cloaked in robes woven of starlight and smoke. Her eyes, pools of ancient knowing, pierced the shadows as she spoke. A prophecy that cracked the air like thunder: Your own son shall spill your life¡¯s blood. The words left Laius reeling, his thoughts whirling like tempests in the ocean¡¯s darkest depths.


    Yet fate, ever cruel, soon granted a miracle. A son was born to the royal house. But joy withered like frost-touched petals. Trembling, half-mad with fear, Laius steeled himself. Under cold moonlight, he pierced his infant¡¯s ankles¡ªwounds to cripple each tiny step¡ªand commanded a servant to cast the child upon a barren mountainside, where the very winds wailed for the babe¡¯s fate.


    But destiny weaves thread no blade can sever. The servant, pity softening his resolve, slipped the child into the arms of a shepherd wandering a moonlit path. And so, under skies indifferent to mortal sorrow, the boy passed to another king¡¯s household. They named him Oedipus: swollen foot, for the scars etched into his flesh¡ªa lifelong seal upon his fate.


    Years slipped by, and Oedipus grew into his borrowed life, though the shadows of his infancy clung like cobwebs to his bones. One day, as the wind hissed through the city¡¯s hollow streets, he caught murmurs swirling like dead leaves¡ªhushed tales of his uncertain birth. Fury and shame coiled in his throat as he demanded answers from those, he called parents. Yet their words dissolved into evasion, leaving only silence thick as burial cloth. Unmoored, he turned to the same Oracle.


    In the temple¡¯s dim belly, heavy with smoke and secrets, Pythia¡¯s voice slithered through the incense. Her prophecy struck darker, colder: You will slay the man who fathered you, then wed the woman who bore you. Horror turned Oedipus¡¯s blood to ice. Vowing to outrun fate, he fled toward Thebes¡ªa city crouched near Delphi¡¯s slopes. Along the sun-scorched road, where shadows writhed like serpents, he crossed paths with a lordly stranger. Pride flared, steel flashed¡ªand in a clash swift and brutal as summer lightning, Oedipus struck down the man. He didn¡¯t know the corpse at his feet was Laius, the ruler of Thebes.


    At the city¡¯s gates loomed the Sphinx¡ªa nightmare made flesh. Her woman¡¯s face smiled cold above a lion¡¯s haunches; wings spread dark as stormclouds. None passed unless they solved her riddle, sung in a voice that made stones tremble. Fail, and bones joined the cairns lining the path. But Oedipus¡¯s mind burned clear as a winter star. He answered, and the beast¡¯s scream split the sky as she cast herself into the abyss. Hailed as savior, he ascended Laius¡¯s vacant throne and took the dead king¡¯s widow as his bride¡ªunknowingly clasping his mother¡¯s hand in marriage.


    Thus, the prophecy coiled back upon itself. Laius fell by his son¡¯s blade; Oedipus¡¯s bed became his cradle. Decades unfolded, and Thebes thrived¡ªuntil rot seeped into its roots. Crops withered. Children choked on fever. Desperate, Oedipus returned to Delphi¡¯s shrine, where the truth began to peel itself raw: The killer walks among you. Laius¡¯s blood still cries for justice.


    Rage and sorrow fused in Oedipus¡¯s veins as he vowed to hunt the killer, to purge Thebes of its festering rot. But time¡¯s veil tore at last, revealing the serpent beneath the stone: he was no true son to those who raised him, and the woman who shared his bed was the womb that bore him. His queen¡ªhis mother¡ªstaggered under the weight of the truth. Her hands, once tender, became instruments of despair. That night, she chose the cold embrace of a noose, leaving Oedipus alone with their four children¡ªinnocent echoes of a love that should never have been.


    In the end, Oedipus renounced the throne that once glittered like a sunlit river. He walked into exile, wandering roads dusted with ash, each footfall a prayer for absolution. Cruelest of all ironies: father and son, both fleeing fate¡¯s shadow, had become puppets to a melody only the Fates could hear. Their defiance had carved the very tragedy they sought to escape. Mortals, ever-blind, they danced on life¡¯s stage¡ªwhere the illusion that we steer our steps is but a phantom, dissolving like mist over the desert of sorrow.¡±


    The crackling sound of the firewood broke the silence after I finished telling the story. The fire, now dying down, only left embers, illuminating the faces of Roka, Gomar, and Asel who were like statues¡ªtheir eyes blank, their lips tightly shut. Cold sweat trickled down my neck, mixing with the piercing night wind. I sat stiffly, my fingers clenching the dry grass until it crumbled into fragments. They must have thought my story was boring. I felt a strong urge to run into the dark forest behind us.


    But Aliyah suddenly clapped her hands, the sound sharp like a whip cracking through the air. She spoke quickly, then the others nodded and clapped¡ªstiffly, like puppets controlled by strings. I smiled faintly, but a sense of shame still weighed on my chest. There was no laughter or admiration¡ªonly serious faces that made me feel even smaller.


    Maybe the story was too heavy? Should I have told the story of the goat and the wolf instead? But before that thought finished, Roka spoke, his eyes narrowed sharply. I didn¡¯t understand his words, but Aliyah immediately translated, her voice soft like flowing water.


    ¡°Roka asked, what happened to Oedipus afterward? Could he live a normal life?¡± Aliyah asked, her hand still half-raised as if holding back a wave of questions.


    I didn¡¯t know the answer to that. Because I only read this story from dusty old books, and it seemed there were many variations and differences depending on the source. But if I considered the possibilities, Oedipus must have lived a life full of regret, didn''t he? He not only failed to escape his destiny but also lived to bear all the consequences. A worst-case scenario for continuing to live. Maybe he would commit suicide too? But I figured if that was going to happen, he would have done it directly instead of exiling himself, wouldn¡¯t he? I also didn''t know for sure what his fate was after the story ended. A long sigh escaped my lips; perhaps I would share my interpretation.


    I scratched the ground with my fingers. ¡°I think¡­ he would continue to exile himself, bearing regret for the rest of his life.¡±


    Aliyah immediately conveyed my answer to Roka. The sound of the fire, now dying down, broke the silence, then Asel spoke up¡ªher eyes sparkling like a curious child. She asked about Delphi, the city of oracles I had mentioned earlier. I shrugged, trying to dredge up memories. All I remembered was a white marble temple shining under the sun, surrounded by rocky mountains. But in this world, perhaps it was a more ashen color, like the charcoal now clinging to the tips of my shoes.


    ¡°The city¡­ is like a palace on a hill and layered with white marble all around it. A very legendary holy city,¡± I answered hesitantly. ¡°But unfortunately, I myself also don''t know for sure what it looks like.¡±


    For Asel''s question, I could only explain the broad strokes of what I knew. A white marble city located in the mountains. In my head, I pictured towering mountains with glittering white rocks. And maybe not far from the sea? I didn¡¯t remember for sure, and besides, there were many biological differences between Earth and this world, so I didn''t explain in too much detail.


    As for Gomar¡¯s question, I didn¡¯t remember the riddle Oedipus received from the Sphinx. If I remembered, I would have told it. While racking my brain, I made up my own riddle. The sound of the fire cracking like brittle bones filled the silence. I placed the wooden bowl on the ground, then whispered to Aliyah in a trembling voice:


    ¡°I always walk ahead of you, yet never arrive.


    I am always present behind you, yet never seen.


    I can give hope, but also take everything away.


    What am I?¡±


    Aliyah repeated the question, her eyes flashing, reflecting the firelight. Asel raised her hand, her brown hair waving like dry leaves blown by the wind.


    ¡°Is the answer wind?¡± Aliyah relayed Asel''s answer.


    Of course, I easily replied, ¡°Wrong.¡± I shook my head, and the fire suddenly flared up, as if joining in laughing at the wrong answer.


    Then Gomar tried to answer, ¡°Old age?¡±


    A slightly unique answer but still far from the actual answer. So I replied, ¡°Not quite.¡±


    Roka didn¡¯t give an answer, and Aliyah also couldn¡¯t answer. So, I took a deep breath then said.


    ¡°The answer is¡­ Time,¡± I replied to them all.


    That answer made them silent. Then Asel clapped her hands, the sound sharp like breaking wood. Gomar followed suit, his face beaming like a child who received a gift. Roka only nodded once, but his eyes seemed to say: I understand. It seemed they weren¡¯t used to playing riddles.


    Then we chatted a little after that. Where Aliyah worked hard as a two-way translator. The conversation flowed smoothly, occasionally punctuated by small laughs and nods of understanding. At least I felt better now, and maybe in the future, I felt I could become close to Roka, Gomar, and Asel.


    After that small bonding moment and finishing talking, we started preparing for sleep by making a kind of simple tent. Except for Roka, who seemed to prefer sleeping leaning against a tree. We began to build the tent where Roka and Gomar had already gathered a lot of reeds, their hands like machines. So fast and skilled at assembling them. I arranged dry grass, the smell like sun-scorched hay. The worn cloth used as a roof smelled of damp earth, making me want to sneeze.


    I helped make this tent, and it seemed they preferred to make one large tent rather than individual tents, and it took maybe half an hour for us to erect this tent. Inside it was a little warm, but we slept on dry grass piled up and used as mattresses. It seemed this was the reason why they gathered a lot of grass and dry leaves in the afternoon earlier before resting and making dinner.


    This dry grass was indeed not as comfortable as Enyeka''s fur like a blanket. But the fatigue of the day finally won. I lay down, hearing the rustle of wind through the leaves. The sound of crickets, which had been noisy, was slowly replaced by Gomar''s heavy snoring. My eyes slowly closed, and darkness engulfed me like a thick blanket swallowing everything.

 S02: "New Life" Chapter 6

    Everything is dark. My eyes stay clamped shut, sealed like a vault I can¡¯t crack. Cold air skims my skin. An itch flares in my nose; I squirm. When I finally pry my eyes open, the first thing I see is the tent roof: drab canvas pocked with holes, starlight bleeding through like tiny silver wounds.


    Gomar¡¯s snoring grates like splintering wood. But there is another sound¡ªsubtle, like someone holding back laughter. That sound makes me turn to the side. My eyes snap open as I see a dwarfish man standing between me and Gomar. His black robe sweeps the ground, his red hair hanging down to mingle with his long beard. His mouth grins wide, saliva dripping slowly to the ground in wet stains. His eyes are large and sharp, as if they could pierce my soul.


    ¡°Welcome, The Chosen One,¡± he rasps, voice a hoarse whisper laced with giggles.


    I want to scream, but my voice vanishes like smoke swept away by the wind. My breath is heavy, my chest rises and falls erratically. My heart pounds hard, as if it wants to burst out. My thoughts spin, like a wheel losing control.


    Is this a dream? Or reality? I don¡¯t know. Then he calls me ¡®The Chosen One¡± Does he know something about me? Who is this person?


    ¡°Oh¡­ looks like this little man startled you? My apologies. You can call me Mr. Small. But don''t call me a dwarf,¡± he says, still grinning in a way that makes my hair stand on end.


    His words echo in my head, like whispers directly into my mind. Is he using some kind of spirit language? Does he know Poma? Questions rage in my brain, deepening my confusion.


    ¡°I only came to greet you. Lucky for me you finally left that old hag¡¯s place. It will be very interesting to see The Chosen One reappear. What kind of world upheaval will you create?¡± the strange man asks, leaning closer. A faint, pungent fishy smell wafts from him as his tangled hair brushes my face¡ªlike rotten fish left too long in the sun.


    I recoil slightly, trying to get away from his smell that makes my stomach queasy. But his words just confuse me more. He called Poma ¡°old hag¡±? Do they know each other? And what does he mean by ¡°world upheaval¡±? I didn''t even think about doing that. Besides, I just want to live normally. What¡¯s my connection to all this?


    ¡°Foolish me¡­ looks like I¡¯m just talking to myself. Now you can speak,¡± the dwarfish man adds, his grin widening like a rat scenting food.


    My voice returns slowly, like a blocked stream suddenly gushing. I shout, hoping Aliyah or Roka will wake. Maybe their presence would make this stranger leave?


    ¡°What do you want from me?!¡± My voice echoes off the tent walls.


    No answer. Mr. Small shakes his head, beard swaying like twigs in wind.


    ¡°Did that old hag not teach you anything? If you want to drag these kids in and hope they can scare me, you are very wrong. If I had ill intentions, I could easily finish off these companions of yours and leave you alone. But that wouldn''t be interesting, would it? Or do you prefer to drag them down with you?¡± he retorts in an arrogant tone; his eyes narrow like sharp knives.


    His words pierce my ears, making my blood boil. My breath starts to shorten, but I try to calm myself.


    ¡°Then what do you want?¡± I ask again, this time in a soft voice, almost a whisper.


    The man is silent for a moment, then laughs coldly, his laughter like rusty iron being scraped.


    ¡°Are you stupid or what? I already said I just want to greet you and ask what you intend to do. Do you not understand?¡± he retorts in an even more annoying tone, making me want to punch his grinning, oversized face.


    ¡°I just want to live normally. Does that satisfy your curiosity?¡± My voice trembles, thin as a reed in a storm. My past life was a swamp of anxiety; I won¡¯t let this one sink deeper.


    ¡°Foolish¡­ So, the hag didn¡¯t tell you. Did she want you to die? Or¡­¡± He leans closer, breath a soft hiss in the dark. ¡°Is there another reason?¡±


    Poma wants me to die? If that¡¯s true, why did she bother saving my life twice? Unless¡­ unless my choice to live quietly is why she stays silent. However, how important is this information that I don¡¯t yet know?


    ¡°What do you mean? Is there something I need to know?¡± I ask, confusion thick in my voice.


    Mr. Small shakes his head again. This time, his expression turns grave, his eyes sharpening like an eagle¡¯s gaze fixed on its prey. His breathing grows audible in the stillness of the night¡ªsoft but deliberate.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you with a question. Remember it, never forget it. Are you even human? Until you answer that, you¡¯ll never grasp why I call your choice so foolish.¡±


    A philosophical question. Human? Of course, I¡¯m human. What else would I be? With his strange posture, isn¡¯t he the one who looks non-human? As far as I know, I¡¯m still painfully ordinary man. Still, I keep the thought to myself, unspoken.


    Maybe when there¡¯s another chance, I¡¯ll ask Poma about this. Perhaps there will come a time when I must know this crucial information that currently eludes me. For now, though, I can use Mr. Small to pry out some answers.


    ¡°What does it mean? Can you explain?¡± I ask, trying to look pitiful to appear more convincing.


    But the dwarfish man just laughs. With a hoarse, broken sound like a shattered orchestra tuning up. Then he slaps my face, gentle yet rough, his small hand striking like a jagged stone.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°You are the one who has to find out for yourself. I¡¯ll be watching you from afar. This is going to be an interesting show!¡± he says, laughing broadly as his fishy breath wafts over me¡ªsharp and putrid, like rotten fish left too long in the sun.


    I don¡¯t understand what he means by ¡°watching.¡± Will he stalk me everywhere? The thought alone makes my skin crawl.


    ¡°Before I go, I want to say this: Be careful with people from the west. If they discover who you really are, they¡¯ll hunt you down and skin you alive. You¡¯re lucky to have met that old hag and me. Another time, under different circumstances, both you and those around you would suffer and even killed.¡± he explains, then slowly turns and leaves the tent.


    Just before vanishing into the night, he shouts, ¡°Welcome to this grand chess game. Where gods devour each other, and humans are nothing more than transactional tools.¡± Then he¡¯s gone, swallowed by the darkness.


    I still have so many questions. My head feels too full to process everything. What does he mean by ¡°grand chess game¡±? Gods devouring each other? Humans as tools?


    ¡°Hey, wait a minute!¡± I shout, but as the words leave my mouth, my head feels like it¡¯s been struck by a hammer. The ground spins beneath me, and strange whispering sounds echo in my ears. Like a wind carrying thousands of voices. Something calls to me¡­ greets me¡­ approaches me¡­


    ¡°Damn it, what¡¯s happening?¡± I mutter, jerking back as if struck in the chest.


    My body grows unbearably hot, like a stove on the verge of exploding. My stomach churns violently, and the voices grow louder and deafening, like a loudspeaker pressed against my ears. I can¡¯t make sense of them, only a chaotic roar slamming into my mind.


    Yes, this voice is a call¡­ A call of madness¡­


    My strength fades, and as I begin to lose consciousness, my body jolts as if electrocuted. My eyes snap open wide, like waking from a nightmare. My clothes are drenched in sweat, and when I touch my nose, my hand comes away wet with blood flowing heavily from both nostrils. The metallic tang stings my nose, making me nauseous.


    Meanwhile, Gomar, Aliyah, and Asel remain asleep, their breathing steady as though nothing has happened. The strange voices vanish as suddenly as I open my eyes, leaving my body hot like fresh meat off the grill. My breath is heavy and painful, each inhale feeling like needles piercing my lungs.


    I pinch my nose to stop the bleeding, but blood keeps seeping, soaking my hands crimson. From outside the tent, Roka peeks in, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my disarray. He quickly wakes Aliyah. Their movements are swift, but Gomar continues to snore loudly, like a broken old machine.


    That morning, Aliyah and Asel help me treat my nose, which refuses to stop bleeding. The cloths they use to clean the blood quickly turn dark red. My clothes are already sticky with blood stains, cold against my skin.


    After the bleeding finally stops, my body feels empty and limp, like a cloth doll without stuffing. Roka offers me his clothes to replace my blood-soaked ones. They¡¯re too big for me, the sleeves dangling over my hands. Once I change, everything returns to normal, and morning greets us again.


    My body still weak, I sit beside the dying fire while the others tidy up the tent and prepare breakfast. My mind is blank, struggling to process what happened last night. Was it real? Or just a dream? The image of Mr. Small¡¯s grotesque grin lingers in my thoughts.


    After last night¡¯s bizarre encounter, I find it hard to distinguish between dream and reality. Is this what schizophrenia feels like? It¡¯s terrifying.


    While Aliyah sits beside me, her hands busy crushing green leaves and dry twigs. She pours water into a small bowl and whispers a soft mantra. The sound of crumpling leaves is sharp, like paper tearing slowly. Once done, she asks Roka to pour the concoction into a wooden bowl and hands it to me.


    ¡°This will make you feel a little better,¡± Aliyah says, smiling. Sweat trickles down her forehead, glistening in the morning light.


    Watching her work so hard despite her blindness makes me feel like a burden. She never lets her condition hold her back, always trying to help as much as she can, even when her limitations complicate things. Meanwhile, I¡¯m here, useless, unable to contribute. Is this what people mean by ¡°Life will revolve in the same place¡±? Once a burden, always a burden? I begin to doubt whether this second life of mine will improve.


    In the midst of my thoughts, Aliyah leans closer. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she asks, her voice soft but laced with worry. Her face is somber, perhaps because I¡¯ve been too quiet.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright. Just need to rest,¡± I reply, forcing a smile. I lift the herbal bowl slowly and drink. A bitter taste stings my tongue, the heat traveling down my throat like embers. I wince, nearly choking.


    ¡°If something¡¯s wrong, just say so. Me and the others will do everything we can to help you,¡± Aliyah says, her unseeing eyes fixed on me with unwavering concern.


    I nod and assure her it¡¯s okay, hoping to ease her worries.


    After that, we have breakfast. This time, it¡¯s a dish similar to a salad, with fresh green leaves of some kind I can¡¯t identify. There are also large yellowish-brown tubers diced by Roka and Gomar. The insides are golden yellow, like potatoes, and a faint minty aroma wafts from the white sauce drizzled on top.


    The taste isn¡¯t as bad as I imagined. The leaves are grassy but refreshing, the sweet chunks of tuber reminiscent of sugary potatoes, and the mint sauce leaves a cool sensation in my mouth. A strange combination, but at least this time, I can eat without feeling nauseous.


    Once breakfast is done, everyone hurries to continue the journey. Roka and Gomar carry large burlap sacks filled with belongings, while Asel hauls heavy equipment¡ªmortar, wood, and tent cloth. I help Aliyah walk by holding her hand. At first, it feels odd, almost like a scene from a romance movie, but eventually. I grow accustomed to it.


    Occasionally, we talk along the way¡ªabout small things, or my thoughts on this new world. What¡¯s unique is how curious Aliyah seems about my original world, though she avoids the topic unless I bring it up. It¡¯s as if she fears the conversation might make me sad by forcing me to reminisce about the past.


    The place I once called home¡­


    t was dirty, polluted, and society is overrun by individualism and materialism. Which is truly pathetic. So, I¡¯m not sure if there¡¯s anything I miss about Earth. Maybe just the people closest to me. If I¡¯d known I¡¯d end up trapped here, I would¡¯ve visited Father and Ellen¡¯s graves one last time. That regret might linger as long as I live in this world.


    In the middle of the peaceful journey, bursts of clear laughter occasionally break the silence. Footsteps crunch softly on the dry ground, like dry leaves being crushed. But everything changes when that sound returns¡ªa soft whisper that slowly morphs into a drawn-out scream piercing the air. My ears feel stabbed by needles; the sound is so loud it feels like they¡¯ll explode.


    I stop instantly, covering my ears with both hands, trying to muffle the increasingly maddening roar. Aliyah, who had been walking beside me, stops too. She turns toward me, then shouts to Roka, Gomar, and Asel ahead. Their footsteps cease, but the strange whisper grows louder, echoing like a wild wind slicing through eardrums.


    Between the screams, I faintly hear Aliyah¡¯s voice, tense and urgent.


    ¡°Close your eyes! Close your eyes!¡±


    Without hesitation, following Aliyah''s words. My eyes clamp shut, and my breath grows heavy, like a stone pressing on my chest. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening next, but a creeping sense of dread washes over me. Bad luck seems to follow me faithfully, because what happens next is beyond anything I could have expected.