Bang!
The gunshot split the air.
A blinding light — then silence.
Kaizen's body jerked backward, time itself seemed to shatter.
Blood trailed through the air like red threads dissolving into glass.
And then…
Nothing.
He opened his eyes.
An endless ocean stretched beneath his feet — calm, mirror-smooth, glowing faintly under a sky of blue light.
There was no sun, no wind, no sound — just infinity.
And yet, he was standing on the water, barefoot, unhurt.
Kaizen stared at his reflection — a small hole glimmered on his forehead, fading slowly, like reality trying to erase it.
"What… what is this place?"
His voice echoed endlessly, swallowed by silence.
He took a few cautious steps. The surface rippled beneath him but didn't sink.
He tried to remember —
The sound of the gun.
Manajit shouting.
Lyra's scream.
And then — darkness.
"Where am I?" he muttered again, breath unsteady.
His heart pounded. Every direction looked the same — blue, white, endless.
And then, behind him, a light appeared — gentle at first, then growing brighter, like a heartbeat.
A deep blue flame hovering in the air.
Kaizen turned, shielding his eyes. "Who's there!?"
No answer — just the light pulsing slowly.
In that instant, thousands of flashes tore through his mind —
Lyra's hand slipping away.
Manajit's lifeless eyes.
The shadow of a man smiling with his same face.
Kaizen gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his head.
Memories — or maybe futures — burning behind his eyelids.
The water beneath him rippled, glowing brighter.
And then, just as he looked up, the blue light exploded into a wave of energy—
White screen.
Scene Cut.
Earlier — Present Time
The alarm buzzed at 7:00 A.M.
Tokyo sunlight spilled into the apartment as Kaizen zipped his suitcase shut.
His face was calm, unreadable — but his eyes carried a weight that words couldn't describe.
Lyra adjusted her jacket and looked at him. "You don't have to go if it's too much."
Kaizen shook his head. "They were still my parents. I'll go."
She nodded quietly. "I'll come with you."
Their flight to India was long, silent.
From the airplane window, Kaizen watched clouds drift past, each one feeling like a memory he couldn't reach anymore.
India
The air was heavy with heat and incense.
Kaizen stood beside the funeral pyres, the sound of chanting faint in the distance.
His sister couldn't come — she lived in Korea now.
As the fire burned, Kaizen said nothing.
He only pressed his hands together, eyes half-closed.
His parents' faces blurred in his mind, replaced by flashes — laughter at breakfast, his father calling him "my little genius," his mother leaving tea by his desk.
Lyra stayed a step behind him, silent, respectful.
For the first time, she saw the small cracks in his calm — his hand trembling slightly as he released a white flower into the river.
After the ceremony, Kaizen met Manajit again outside the cremation ground.
Manajit looked older, tired, but when he saw Kaizen, he smiled faintly.
"Still the same face," he said.
Kaizen almost smiled back. "You too. Just less hair."
They both laughed — quietly, briefly — the kind of laugh that hides sadness.
Lyra joined them, and the three began walking along the old road, talking about their school days, old drawings, failed experiments.
For a moment, life felt almost normal.
Then — a sound.
A whisper of wind.
A click of metal.
Scene cuts — a faint echo of the gunshot from the opening.
But this time, the reader doesn't see what happens next.
Only Kaizen's face turning, eyes widening —
Then darkness again.