In the darkness of the night, there was a young boy who walked alone down the street, bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
The rhythm of his footsteps echoed softly through the busy veins of the city. Despite it being a weekday, the streets were still alive, cars rolled by lazily, neon lights buzzing above cafés and convenience stores, and a swarm of people flowed along the sidewalks like a restless current. Among them, there was that lone boy in a school uniform, his presence oddly out of place in the midnight crowd.
Every few steps, people turned to look at him curious, confused, whispering to one another.
Why would a student be walking alone at this hour?
Shouldn't he be home studying, asleep, or preparing for school tomorrow?
The glowing digits of a nearby digital billboard read 22:35 PM, a time when the world expected children to be safe behind closed doors, not wandering through the city like a ghost.
Some people frowned, thinking he must be a delinquent one of those kids who roamed the streets at night looking for fun, trouble, or someone to blame their boredom on. But that thought vanished the moment their eyes met his face.
There was only one word that came to mind.
"Beautiful."
They froze when they saw the child's appearance
His skin was pale, polished like porcelain, glowing faintly beneath the city's artificial lights. His black hair smooth, fine, and almost silken flowed down to his waist, swaying gently with each step. His features were delicate, refined beyond what seemed humanly possible. Many mistook him for a girl at first glance, maybe because of his small stature, standing barely one hundred and fifty centimeters tall, or the quiet, graceful way he moved like a drifting shadow untouched by the noise of the world.
People's eyes lingered, entranced by a beauty they couldn't explain, a beauty that didn't comfort but unsettled, because beneath it was something they couldn't name.
And then they saw it the faint trace of sorrow in his expression. The way his eyes, though calm, carried a weight that no child should bear. There was a shadow behind them, a quiet exhaustion carved into his face.
A face too beautiful, and yet too empty.
He walked on, unbothered by the gazes that followed him. When he reached the intersection, the red light for pedestrians glowed bright, but he didn't stop.
Tap… tap… tap.
The boy stepped onto the crossing, as headlights flared in his vision. A car's tires screeched.
"Hey! Watch where you're going! The light's red!"
An old man shouted from the driver's seat, his voice sharp and trembling with irritation and fear.
But the boy didn't flinch. He didn't even glance at the car. He just kept walking.
There was something in his face, something almost disappointed, as though he wished the car hadn't stopped in time.
He exhaled softly, eyes half-lidded, and thought to himself
How lucky I am…
The thought was bitter, laced with quiet
self-mockery. And from the corner of his mind, another memory began to surface faint at first, then sharper, clearer, like an old wound reopening.
"How dare you lie to us."
"After all we've done for you this is how you repay us?"
Those words came from none other than his own parents. His mother, and his father.
"We don't want to see you again. Get out of our house."
The sharpness of his father's voice had cut deeper than any blade could. But it wasn't the words that broke him it was the expression on his mother's face. The look that no child should ever see from their parent disgust. Cold, unfeeling, final.
It was an expression that shattered something inside him forever.
"You're not our child anymore."
That second blow struck harder than the first. It didn't echo it carved itself into his mind, permanent, raw, and echoing in every breath he took afterward.
He had tried to speak back then, but no words would come. Not because he was afraid, but because somewhere deep inside, he knew they were right. He had no excuse. It was his own fault. His lies, his choices. He deserved it.
And so he left.
Now, here he was walking aimlessly under the cold gaze of a city that never cared, his feet carrying him further and further away from the warmth of home.
He didn't stop. He didn't look back.
The car's honk faded behind him, replaced by the steady rhythm of his footsteps on the pavement. He didn't know where he was going, he simply walked as though movement itself was the only thing keeping him alive.
Before he realized it, the glowing lights of the city had begun to fade. The tall buildings gave way to silent factories, the hum of engines replaced by the whisper of night winds brushing against distant fields. The air smelled different here, damp earth and the faint sweetness of grass.
He stopped for the first time and looked around. The endless stretch of rice fields shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight, and the sky above was vast and hollow.
He let out a quiet breath.
"I've been walking for quite a while," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Before I knew it, I'd reached the edge of town."
He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"What should I do now?"
Maybe… call a friend, he thought.
The friend he meant was his deskmate, the one who always sat beside him, the one who laughed at his jokes, shared his lunch, and told him stories to kill the boredom of long classes.
For a brief moment, that thought felt like warmth. A faint light.
But then, a dull pain burned across his right cheek.
He touched it instinctively. The mark of a punch.
The memory returned like a flash. His friend's face twisted in anger and disbelief.
In front of him stood his friend, his fist trembling in the air. Then, without a word, the knuckles met the right side of his cheek, quiet yet heavy enough to leave a sting that went deeper than pain.
The boy fell to the ground, the world around him fading into a blur of sound and light.
He looked up at his friend in disbelief eyes trembling, searching for any hint of warmth left in them.
His friend's lips quivered before the words escaped, cold and bitter.
"I can't believe I was manipulated by someone like you."
He took a step back, his voice cracking as he continued,
"You're disgusting. I trusted you… but you lied to me."
Each word sank deep, heavier than the punch itself. The boy sat there in silence, the sting on his cheek fading beneath a deeper ache in his chest.
He wanted to speak, to explain, to reach out but no sound came.
The next thing he saw was his friend's back, walking away without a glance. The distance between them grew with every step, until all that was left was the faint echo of footsteps and the hollow weight of being left alone.
Those sharp words lingered in his ears, followed by the sting of that strike. The pain was long gone, yet the memory remained bitter, vivid, and heavy as ever.
Friend, huh…
He scoffed quietly, shaking his head. I bet he never even saw someone like me as a friend.
What kind of friend lies? What kind of friend uses someone, then makes them do something like that?
A bitter smile curved his lips half amusement, half self-mockery.
At that moment, the scenery around him began to change.
The night deepened. The air grew colder. The faint breeze that had brushed through the rice stalks died away, and the world fell utterly still.
The city lights in the far distance blinked out one by one, swallowed by the darkness. The sky above, once painted with the soft glow of stars, grew dim until it became a curtain of endless black.
Silence pressed down on him. Even the whisper of wind had vanished.
He stopped walking and looked up. The sky had turned completely black.
"Even the moon refuses to shine for me," he murmured softly, his breath visible in the cold air.
"I guess even it knows I carry a dark heart."
He took another step forward and froze.
The path was gone.
The road that had stretched before his feet only moments ago had vanished, replaced by an endless void. The fields around him twisted and blurred, the factory silhouettes bending unnaturally, as if the world itself was melting into shadow.
His heartbeat quickened. His breathing grew shallow. He blinked hard, thinking maybe exhaustion had blurred his vision after all, he had walked from the city to here without rest.
But then…
The sky shattered.
A crack tore through the darkness, sharp and shrill.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
It was the sound of glass breaking but louder, heavier, as though the heavens themselves were fracturing apart. The boy looked up, eyes wide, heart pounding.
Pieces of the night splintered, falling in slow motion like shards of obsidian glass. Through the cracks, something immense stirred, something ancient and wrong.
From within that broken sky emerged a towering figure.
A giant skeleton, its height nearly five meters, wrapped in a translucent veil that fluttered like torn fabric in a wind that did not exist. Behind its back, six skeletal arms stretched outward, each one twice the length of its body, curling and unfolding like the limbs of some forgotten god.
The boy's legs trembled. He could only stare frozen, breath caught in his throat, mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
As the last fragments of the shattered sky rained down, the world around him fell silent once again.
Only his heartbeat echoed.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
And before him, under the ruined night, the skeletal figure began to move.