In the Dream
"I'm walking… aimlessly."
A voice echoed in the void. He wasn't sure if it came from his own mouth or from somewhere deep inside his fading consciousness.
"Have I done this before…?"
"Who am I?"
"Where… am I?"
The questions circled endlessly in his mind, reverberating through an infinite space where no sound should exist.
There was no beginning, no end — only the sound of footsteps that led nowhere.
The ground beneath his feet was made of something that looked like fog, or perhaps shadow. Each step left behind a faint trail of light that shimmered briefly before vanishing — like fragments of erased memories.
He kept walking, even though there was no path, no sky, and not even a reflection of himself to follow.
Then, suddenly, he stopped.
Because in front of him — there were two figures.
Two men, standing motionless in the haze.
Their faces were identical to his. Every feature, every gesture, even the look in their eyes — exactly the same.
The only difference was their hair:
one had pitch-black hair, the other silver-gray, reflecting dim light like frozen metal.
"What… is this?" he muttered softly, stepping closer.
The air trembled as he approached, as if the two figures were not truly "people," but fragments of something greater — reflections of himself, separated and solidified.
He began to observe them closely — tracing his eyes across every detail.
Fingertips. Jawline. The rhythm of their breathing.
Every single thing was the same.
"They're… me?"
The thought came unbidden.
Then —
Pain struck his head like lightning.
A piercing sensation flooded his skull, as if thousands of needles stabbed into his mind all at once.
A crimson light burst from beneath the first figure's feet —
a glowing magic circle, ancient and malicious, spinning with symbols that pulsed like living veins.
The ground shook violently.
And then — a castle emerged.
It was magnificent and dreadful all at once.
Dark gray towers pierced the endless mist, reaching toward an unseen sky. Heavy fog encircled its walls, as though the entire structure floated between dreams and reality.
The massive gates creaked open on their own, the sound echoing endlessly through the empty air.
He hesitated — then stepped inside.
The interior was breathtaking.
Marble corridors stretched endlessly beneath golden chandeliers. The polished floor reflected faint light, shimmering like a sea of forgotten memories.
It was beautiful.
But hollow.
Every corner whispered of a place that once lived — and had long since died.
He walked on, his footsteps echoing through the desolate grandeur until he reached the grand hall.
At its center stood a throne.
It was exquisite — carved from black stone with veins of gold — yet utterly empty.
Above it, a faint mark stained the wall — the dark outline of a presence that once sat there for an eternity.
He continued on, entering an ancient kitchen.
The air was thick with rot. Dishes lay scattered across the counters, food left to decay centuries ago.
The smell was overwhelming — yet somehow familiar. Something deep inside him stirred, like an old memory he could almost grasp.
Then he reached a bedroom.
Unlike the rest of the castle, it was spotless — untouched by time.
Everything was perfectly arranged, from the pristine bed to the polished mirror beside it.
On the wall, names were engraved —
He read them aloud slowly:
"Micheal… Selena… Chimono… Terisen…"
His voice echoed back at him, lonely and uncertain.
"They must have been… part of this place."
"But then… why am I here?"
Silence.
Then, a faint cracking sound.
The marble beneath his feet began to tremble.
The walls distorted — bending, twisting, groaning as though the entire castle was alive and in pain.
Cracks spread like veins of darkness, crawling along the walls and floors.
The air thickened — and the world began to crumble.
"What's happening?!" he shouted, but his voice vanished into the emptiness.
The castle shattered like glass.
A red light burst through every crack, spreading across the floor and ceiling like a flood of blood.
He ran — desperate to find a way out — but every door he opened led only to the void.
No sky. No ground. Only the endless nothingness waiting to swallow everything.
A pull — invisible, yet unstoppable — dragged him backward.
He resisted with all his strength, his body trembling under the strain.
"No… I don't want to disappear again!"
His voice was raw with fear, but the void didn't care.
The world was gone.
The light faded one by one, leaving him in total silence.
Only his heartbeat remained.
Thump...
Thump...
Thump...
Was it still his heart?
Or just the echo of something that once was?
He gasped for air, forcing his body to move — but his legs failed him.
He fell —
And the ground beneath him gave way.
He plunged into the abyss — into the bottomless pit that yawned wide like the mouth of an ancient creature waiting to devour him whole.
The last light vanished.
The last sound died.
"Where… am I…?"
The whisper slipped from his lips just before consciousness dissolved completely
Inside another house within the village…
A group of men and women carried the body of an unconscious man toward a massive mansion — a building far too large to be called a house.
The man had short, deep-purple hair, gently swaying as he was lifted through the colossal gates into the chilling stillness within.
The air in the mansion was unnaturally cold.
Lantern light flickered against cracked walls, revealing stains that spoke of age and silence.
No one uttered a word. Only the echo of footsteps filled the marble floor, sharp and deliberate, resonating through the long, empty corridors.
They descended, step by step, into the lower levels of the mansion —
a place that felt detached from the world above.
The basement was no ordinary chamber.
It was a prison, built for a single purpose:
to confine outsiders — those who had trespassed into the forbidden village without permission.
The sound of iron grinding against iron echoed through the dark hall.
They threw the purple-haired man into a narrow cell with a dull clang,
then shut the gate behind him with a heavy metallic thud.
And once again, silence ruled.
Hours passed.
Finally, the man stirred.
His eyelids fluttered, his breath shallow.
He opened his eyes slowly, his mind clouded, his memory shrouded in fog.
"...Where am I?"
His voice was weak — barely a whisper swallowed by the air.
A dull ache pulsed in his skull.
He tried to recall something, anything — but all he could see in his mind was darkness,
and faint whispers that slipped away the moment he tried to grasp them.
He pushed himself up from the cold, hard surface beneath him and began to look around.
The floor was steel — harsh and cold to the touch.
The bed beneath him had no sheets, no warmth.
The pillow was nothing but a folded piece of cloth.
Before him stood heavy iron bars, their surfaces worn but unyielding.
Beyond the cell, a lantern burned faintly —
its flame glowing with a strange, soft violet hue,
casting ghostly reflections upon the stone walls.
Everything in this place felt ancient, forgotten.
In one corner stood a crooked wooden table with only three legs,
next to a fragile chair that looked ready to collapse with the slightest touch.
The walls bore scratches — marks of struggle, of hopeless attempts to escape.
The ceiling and floor were made of dull gray concrete, lifeless and damp.
There was no sign of movement, no trace of life.
Then his gaze shifted to the far side of the chamber —
and there, seated quietly in another cell, was an old man.
White-haired, with eyes glinting faintly in the purple glow,
he sat still, leaning against the wall with an expression that seemed both calm and knowing.
It was as though he had been waiting for someone… waiting for him.
Then came a soft, eerie laugh.
"Heh… heh-heh-heh… So you've finally awakened, wanderer."
The voice was raspy, yet carried a strange strength that sent shivers down the spine.
The purple-haired man turned toward the sound, silent but wary.
The old man chuckled again, the shadows dancing across his face as he spoke —
"Well then…"
"Would you rather tell me your story first… or your name?"