I stepped outside with her—and realized it was a town.
Beyond the creeping darkness that pressed in from all sides, there were structures: wooden buildings reinforced with odd contraptions, walkways suspended carefully over nothingness, and lanterns—countless lanterns—casting artificial light into the void.
Lanterns?
"Oh gosh, I'm really late for work!" Juna blurted out, glancing upward.
I followed her gaze. The lanterns glowed in different shades, some blue, some leaning toward green, others warmer—yellow, almost gold. I didn't understand what they meant, but clearly, she did.
"What do you mean you're late—"
She grabbed my hand.
Before I could finish, we were running.
We bolted toward what seemed to be the main area of the town. As we passed through, I took in more details—the place functioned. Somehow. Wooden supports. A well standing absurdly in the open void. Stalls selling fish, meat, and produce. Living beings moving about as if this endless darkness were nothing more than bad weather.
Life… here?
"If they ask why I'm late," Juna shouted while pulling me along, "I'm blaming you!"
"Ehh—really?!"
Voices flickered past us as we ran.
"Hey, did that lantern just turn purple?""What are you talking about? You're seeing things."
We reached the center of town. At the entrance stood a large map mounted on a board—rough, worn, but detailed. The town formed a clear circle.
But beneath it—
There was an underlayer.
Its shape was drawn, yet shaded out completely, as if someone had deliberately erased it.
I stopped for a moment, staring.
"…Why is that part blacked out?"
I stepped inside the establishment with Juna, and immediately dozens of eyes turned toward us—stares sharp enough to cut. The place smelled of sweat, old wood, and something faintly metallic, like iron left out to rot. Inside, it looked like a typical bar at first glance: cluttered post boards with faded notices, a chaotic scattering of papers on every surface, and a reception desk that seemed to have survived through decades without a single dusting. But something about it felt… alive. Every creak, every shadow, seemed purposeful.
"Junaaaaa~" a sweet, high-pitched voice called, followed by a heavy slam. Directly in front of us stood a man over six feet tall, muscles straining under a snug vest, and a smile that was equal parts charming and menacing.
"Don't tell me the reason you're late was because you had to take care of your boyfriend—and without notice, you brought him here too, hm?" His veins throbbed across his forehead as his gaze swept from Juna to me, assessing, calculating.
"He's not my partner, Director," Juna stammered, her face pale. "He's… an acquaintance. I don't fully know him."
I wanted to sink into the floor. Way to put me on the spot.
The man sighed. "Go on to my office, both of you. I'll deal with this later." Juna's legs nearly gave out. Sweat beaded along her brow, and she looked as pale as s50W—wait… snow? What's a snow?
The hallway leading to his office was lined with lanterns, just like outside. Their colors shifted subtly, almost imperceptibly, and I couldn't tell if they were flickering or if my eyes were tricking me. What did it mean?
"So… do you mind explaining?" the man asked, calm now but with an underlying weight that made my stomach tighten.
Juna swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. I… I met him on the Burole Path. We bumped into each other, and he passed out… naked." She flushed crimson. I wanted the ground to open beneath me.
"And you decided to take him in?" His sigh was heavy, carrying disbelief, exhaustion, and a hint of amusement all at once.
At last, we reached his office. The door opened to a room overflowing with papers, ledgers stacked like towers, and a massive desk buried under a mountain of documents.
"Sit," the Director commanded. Juna sat nervously; I followed, my hands almost trembling.
"And? There must be more. Continue, Juna."
"Yes, sir. He… doesn't remember anything. It must be amnesia, sir."
"The old script—amnesia, huh?"
"Amnesia is when someone loses all their memories," Juna clarified, glancing at me. The Director's gaze lingered, and I felt it pierce straight through me, as if he could see what I couldn't even remember myself.
"Got a name?" he asked.
"Albus… for now."
"Really treating him like a pet, huh, Juna?" The man smirked. She looked down, embarrassed.
"Well, Albus," he continued, voice sharpening slightly, "do you know where you are?"
"I… have a brief understanding of the Abyss, but not of this sector or town," I admitted.
"This town is the sector of Barriel," he said. "Small, but hard-working. Enough to survive, anyway."
I nodded slowly, thinking of the Burole Path. "I see… that path, the burole connects most sectors, right?"
"The longest," he replied. "It could take days to traverse from point A to point B. Dangerous days."
My gaze wandered once more to the lanterns. They pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat, as if the town itself was alive and aware of my presence.
"They tell time in the Abyss," the Director said. "Day and night. Philosopher Manufacturers create them."
"How?" I asked.
"Each lantern is calibrated with a rare stone called ConTraFlour—CTF," he explained. "Refined carefully, set at precise angles, it produces fire to indicate the passage of time. How it works in detail… that is the responsibility of the Philosopher Manufacturers. They are a peculiar sort. The first were founded by the one who opened the gate to the Abyss itself."
"Interesting…" I murmured, feeling the faint hum of the lanterns through the floorboards beneath my feet.
"Any more questions?"
I thought of the map outside the house. "That map… is it for the town?"
"Yes."
"Why is the underlayer—"
Juna grabbed my hand before I could finish. Her grip was tight, her knuckles white. Her face darkened, shadows seeming to cling to her expression.
"That… let's just say," she whispered, "if you cannot carry yourself amidst all that is dark, you will be taken to those who seek glory…"
The room went still. Even the faint hum of the lanterns seemed to pause. I felt the weight of her words settle into my chest.
"I… think I want to join the Messengers," I said finally, voice quiet but determined.
The Director raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"
"To understand this place… and why I'm here," I said. "Messengers can move between sectors and grades. I need that access to find answers."
"Hmm. Alright. Sure, kid, I'll hire you," he said. "My name's Orchid. Director of the Messengers in this sector. To be officially hired, you'll need to see the Mayor—he's out right now. But rules can bend, for now."
I bowed deeply. "Thank you, Director Orchid."
"And Juna," he added, voice sharp now. She froze.
"Repeat that again, and I'll take away your job," he said, smiling in a way that was both playful and dangerous. She nodded silently, pale as ever.
"You can go ahead, Albus. Juna and I will meet you at the hub."
"Understood," I said, walking toward the door.
At the corner of my eye, I saw Juna and the Director exchanging a serious glance. I wondered, fleetingly, what unspoken words were there.
As I stepped out, my mind spun. Who—or what—was that voice before at my Dream,What lay below this town, in the shaded underlayer that no one wanted to talk about?
Then, faintly, I heard her voice:
"I trust him…"
What could that mean?
The door creaked open, and Juna froze, eyes widening. "You… you waited for me? Why?" Her voice was soft, almost nervous.
"I didn't mean to… peep on your conversation," I said quickly. "I was just… lost in thought until you opened the door."
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. Without a word, she reached for my hand, gripping it gently.
"Thanks, I guess… let's go," she said.
We left the office, and the hallway stretched ahead, lined with lanterns suspended on thin chains. Their glow pulsed softly, shifting colors in ways I couldn't quite track—sometimes blue, sometimes green, sometimes a muted yellow. I couldn't tell if the changes marked time, or if it was just my imagination.
Some flickered briefly as we passed, casting shadows that seemed to twitch at the edges of my vision. A stack of papers on a nearby desk shivered slightly, though there was no breeze. A Messenger paused mid-step, glanced in my direction, then moved along as if they hadn't been watching at all.
"Does this… always happen?" I whispered.
Juna shook her head. "Not usually," she said, her voice low. "But sometimes… things just feel… off. I don't know why."
I swallowed, a cold knot forming in my stomach. There was something in the air—like the town itself had a pulse I couldn't understand. Every creak, every flicker of light made me second-guess the simplest of movements.
The hub opened up ahead. Benches lined the walls, lanterns hanging overhead, and the quiet hum of people going about their day filled the space. A fishmonger argued softly with a customer, a blacksmith wheeled a cart of tools past. Everything looked ordinary, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that the air itself was watching, leaning closer in silent curiosity.
Juna squeezed my hand, and I noticed the tension in her shoulders. Even she seemed aware of it.
The lanterns' colors shifted again—deep navy, green-tinged dawn, pale yellow. I felt a faint unease at the way the shadows moved in corners, the way the light seemed just a little too deliberate. It wasn't threatening. It wasn't overt. But it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Some of the Messengers glanced our way. Their looks were fleeting, subtle, and easily missed—but I noticed. A whisper here, a pause there, nothing direct. Still, it made me feel like I didn't quite belong. Like I was a note slightly out of tune in a song everyone else knew.
Juna released my hand at the edge of the hub, glancing around carefully. I realized that even though she had lived here, even she felt the slight unease of the space—the quiet irregularity beneath its surface.
I took a deep breath, trying to settle the cold weight in my chest. The lanterns flickered once more, and for a brief moment, a soft, intangible tension pressed against my thoughts. Whatever this place was, it wasn't entirely ordinary.
CHAPTER 2 ENDS....