"What do you… desire?"
The voice of an old man seeped out from the darkness within the dream.It wasn't a sound heard only by the ears—it sank into the bones and the heart.It asked again and again… until the question felt carved into his very soul.
What did he want? What did he truly desire?
The answer rose easily, without a second's hesitation.
"I want to be free… from this rotting pile of garbage."His voice was hoarse, yet carried a faint, mocking grin that hid his despair."I want to eat a decent meal, wear clothes that aren't in rags… is that what you'd call a 'desire,' old man?"
He asked in return, but the old man didn't answer.Only a cold, suffocating silence swallowed everything,before the dream slowly dissolved into the cruel reality.
He opened his eyes… finding himself lying on a damp roadside like a worthless stray dog.People passed by—some glanced his way,but most simply ignored him as if he had never existed at all.
He couldn't even remember how old he was anymore…but the last time he counted, he was seventeen.And he remembered living like this ever since he was eight—the day his parents cast him away like a burden to be rid of.
From that day on, he knew… there would never be a home to return to.His only dining table was a trash can,and his bed—a hard pavement reeking of piss.
The warmth of a real bed?He'd long forgotten what that even felt like.
But now, what he knew for certain…was the sharp pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
He didn't have enough money for medicine—medicine cost more than food.All he could do was endure,even as the pain clenched his heart with every breath.
He didn't know what caused it,but deep down, he knew…seventeen might be as far as he would go.
Before he died, there was only one thing he wanted—to eat a good meal, just once in his life.
But why should chest pain be the thing to kill him?
While wandering the streets,he had heard the same rumor over and over—that the symptoms came from chemicals released by the government,a silent purge to wipe out the homeless and the slum dwellers.No one would search for them. No one would care.
Yes… it was cruel.And crueler still was this—no one cared whether it was even true.
In a world overflowing with people…erasing "trash" wasn't difficult,and no one thought it worth giving them any value.
He was nothing but human debris society didn't want.Every breath was pain,but all he could do was accept his grim fate—because even if he cried out for help, no hand would reach for him.
"…If I wake up again, I want to be a king."His voice was faint, like he was murmuring to himself."I want everything… I want a life where I'll never be buried in this stinking trash again."
A tear fell onto the rotten scraps of food—
its salt mixing with the stench,as if to remind him he was no different from the garbage.
The voice was so weak it seemed ready to vanish into the wind—and yet, someone heard it.
An old man in a dull cloak quietly approached,bending down to lift the boy from the groundas though picking up a treasure the world had discarded.
His tone was soft and warm—too warm for a place this cold.
"I want to know… if you could go to a new world, what would you do?"
The question seemed to hide something behind it—not just a probe into his heart,but a test of the fate of an abandoned soul
____________________________________________________________________________________________
"Wake up… boy."
The voice echoed faintly through his ears as his eyelids slowly opened.
The first thing he saw was the night sky—but it was no ordinary darkness.It was dyed deep indigo mixed with dusky violet, like a velvet curtain soaked in the blood of stars.No moon, no sun—only a strange, hypnotic beauty that made his heart race with both awe and dread.
Around him stretched still, glassy water—so unnervingly flat it reflected nothing, extending endlessly.He stood on jet-black ground, black as ink that swallowed all light.Staring at it too long made it seem as if the earth itself could pull his soul into the void.
A chill ran down his spine.He turned to search for the source of the voice, but no shadow appeared.Only the sound of his own breathing echoed back in the silence.
Then his eyes landed on "the stone."It stood alone—a massive black rectangle, as if carved from pure darkness.Its surface was etched with twisting white patterns, like veins of some impossible creature that had never existed on Earth.
He stepped back unconsciously, heart hammering, yet curiosity drew him forward, inch by inch.
"Shouldn't I be dead… why am I here?"The thought echoed in his mind as he circled the stone, inspecting it.Nothing moved—except the strange patterns, which seemed to writhe if stared at too long.
It wasn't just a "stone."It felt alive… watching him.
He reached out to touch the cold surface—but nothing happened.Only silence, and the unyielding hardness, as if it were an ordinary rock.
He exhaled, disappointed—
…Then, a freezing wind blew from ahead, strong enough that he raised his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, fearing dust might sting them.
When he opened his eyes again… his heart nearly stopped.
Hundreds of eyes had appeared on the stone, staring at him unblinking.Each eye was blood-red, and grotesquely, the pupils were filled with teeth, gnawing slowly, grinning in silence.
He stepped back… but then the sky turned to blood.Acidic cold rain began to fall heavily.
The black ground beneath him seemed alive—it split open, and countless shapeless hands surged from the darkness, gripping his face and arms tightly.The icy touch seeped into his bones, paralyzing him, making him unable to move a single finger.
"No…!" he wanted to scream, but the sound was swallowed.
The hundreds of eyes never wavered.Then, jet-black tendrils sprouted from the cracks in the stone, creeping toward him slowly, slithering into his mouth, nose, and eyes.
The initial pain was like fire scorching his nerves.He screamed at the top of his lungs, but no one heard.
The tendrils burrowed deep into his body, probing veins, muscles, and every crevice they desired.
Then… something began to seep into him—knowledge he had never understood, never wanted.The pain slowly twisted into warmth.Warmth slowly warped into pleasure…And pleasure twisted into an insatiable hunger.
For an ordinary human, this sensation might have been lust or madness.But for him… it was the first time he felt complete.
The tendrils gradually withdrew.The wet, tearing sounds of flesh still echoed in his mind.The mysterious hands that had risen from the ground slowly loosened their grip, as if satisfied with what they had done.
He collapsed to the floor, gasping like he had been dragged up from the bottom of the sea.But when he looked up at the still water before him… his heart nearly stopped.
The reflection in the water was not the person he once knew—His eyes were gone, leaving only hollow, black sockets.Both cheeks were ripped away, exposing pale white bone.Dark blood gushed from his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears like four fountains.His face was twisted beyond recognition, barely human.
He reached out to touch the water… but then, a creaking sound came from behind.
The black stone, covered with hundreds of eyes, began to move—slowly but with certainty—floating above the ground as if gravity had no meaning.It rose… higher… until it loomed over his head, all those eyes seemingly choosing the exact point to crush.
"Shit…!" he cursed, clenching his teeth until they bled.
Then—
CRASH!
The colossal stone slammed down with a force that seemed capable of splitting the world in two.His body should have been crushed to pieces, flesh, bone, and blood scattering in every direction—at least, that's what logic demanded.
…but in the next instant, everything fell silent.No blood on the ground, no corpse.The rain vanished as if it had never fallen.Only the same black stone stood, and the night sky stretched out, eerily beautiful—so impossibly beautiful that it felt profoundly wrong.
.
.
.
"Master! You've got a son!!!"