Darkness is a prison.
It doesn't feel like sleep. It isn't death, either. But maybe this is what dying feels like: floating in nothing, fully aware, yet unable to move. Trapped inside my own body. Forced to listen. To think and to remember.
I hear voices. Constantly. Some familiar, others distant. My teammates. My coach. My family. They come and go, their voices edged with worry, frustration, and a desperation that runs deeper.
"Sanghyeok, if you can hear me... please wake up."
"We need you."
"You've never let anything stop you before. Don't let this be the first."
"Hyung... it's not the same without you."
I hear them all. I want to answer. I want to tell them I'm here, that I'm trying. But no matter how hard I will my body to move, I remain still. My limbs don't respond. My lips stay shut. My eyes won't open.
It's maddening.
If this is my reality now, I would rather vanish entirely—
"Do you truly wish to wake up?"
A new voice. Feminine. Low. Smooth. Laced with something unplaceable: curiosity, amusement, power.
I stiffen. Or I think I do. It's hard to tell. My awareness floats somewhere outside my body.
"Who's there?" I demand.
A soft chuckle follows, knowing and cold. "The one keeping you from being devoured."
My pulse quickens. Or maybe it's just the memory of it. The casual certainty in her voice makes my skin prickle.
"Devoured?" I echo.
"Yes."
The word hangs in the air like a whisper at the back of my neck. It slithers into my mind, not just sound, but sensation. A breath against my skin. A presence.
It makes my heart stumble. But that can't be. I shouldn't have a pulse at all. I reach for my memories, fumbling for the last moment I remember before this... stillness.
London. The stage lights. The crowd's roar and the match against BLG.
Then suddenly it hit me.
A headache, sharp and sudden. Not just pain, but pressure. Something invisible pushing in, trying to take hold. My breath caught. My fingers twitched on the keyboard. The arena's sound began to fade, muffled like it was underwater.
Then something struck me. Not physically, but like a force barreling into my mind. A weight. Heavy and ancient. It dug into me, wrapped around my thoughts, dragged me down.
I didn't understand it then. But it had been reaching for me.
What came next?
Pure void.
No fall. No drifting into unconsciousness. Just the sudden drop into a void where time and sensation no longer existed.
"You were attacked," the voice murmurs. "Something ancient tried to consume you. I stopped it."
That voice again. Her voice.
It shouldn't affect me, but it does. Deeply. It coils around something inside me, like heat curling into cold bones. Wherever my body might be, it stirs at the sound of her. There's a tug in my chest, something primal. A recognition I can't explain.
Why does she feel so familiar when I don't even know her name? Why does her voice stir a memory I can't name, deep, aching and impossible to ignore? And worse...
Why do I want more of it?
The realization hits like a blow. I don't want this. I've never cared for romance, never needed desire, never even thought about it. But now? When she speaks, I want her to keep speaking. Even if it terrifies me.
"I don't believe you," I say. My voice is raw, even if it's only in my mind.
"You will."
Her certainty is maddening. As if she already knows how this will end and I hate it. I want to argue. To reject it all. But before I can respond, something breaks. A crack splits open in the dark. Lika a fracture in the prison that holds me.
Then it just came hitting me like a bullet train.
Memories. Another consciousness that I think aren't mine rush in like a storm.
A hall of marble and shadow. Towering pillars etched with symbols I don't know, yet somehow understand. The scent of iron clings to the air, thick and metallic. Beneath me, the ground is slick. Dark but warm. There's a throne that rises ahead. Cold and unyielding. It isn't just a seat but a claim. A right and a burden. Figures kneel before it. Some bow in reverence. Others tremble in fear.
My vision shifts. I am no longer standing in that hall. I am seated on the throne, hands resting on its arms, rings catching the low light. My fingers are pale. My posture is effortless, yet there is a weight pressing against my chest and it feels immovable.
I speak, and the voice that leaves my mouth does not sound like mine. "Kneel. Or be made to."
Someone stands beside me. A presence. Elegant and poised. She is also radiating power equal to mine. Voivodina.
The name etches itself into my thoughts. Sharp. Familiar and unmistakable. She belongs here, at my side. Not behind me. Never behind. She watches everything and she waits. She is my queen, though there is a space between us. A silence too old to name.
The memory accelerates, rushing forward like pages turning in a book already written. War, blood and then betrayal.
I see myself moving through chaos, wielding a force I can't name, faster than any human should be. Bodies fall around me. Some are enemies. Some are not. It doesn't matter in the moment. I feel hunger. Not the kind that gnaws at the stomach. This is different. A need for power, dominance and blood.
There is a crown on my head. It feels heavy, but I do not bow beneath its weight. Suddenly, the memory is torn from me. I choke on what's left of it. My mind snaps back to the present. To the void. To the silence I've been trapped in for what feels like forever. My hands, real or imagined, tremble. I cannot move them. My breath comes ragged, even though I shouldn't need air. My soul feels scraped raw. And beneath all of that? There is longing. For a name I've never spoken. A touch I don't remember and a voice that stirs something ancient and hollow inside me.
"Now do you understand?"
I can't answer. I won't. Because if I do, then I'm admitting it's real. That this isn't just a dream. That this isn't a trick of a broken mind. That the life I believed in, the identity I built, was never just mine to claim.
"No," I whisper. "I refuse."
"Refusal doesn't erase what's true," she replies. Her voice is quiet, without scorn, and still somehow unshakable. "You are awakening to what was always within you. To what always belonged to you."
I want to shout. To call her a liar. To cling to the name Faker. The only identity I've ever known. Lee Sanghyeok—a gamer, competitor but only human. Nothing more. But I cannot say it. Because somewhere inside me, beneath the panic and the denial, the truth already sits, waiting. And that truth terrifies me. Even more terrifying than the fear itself is the pull. The ache for something I still can't name. And the knowledge that soon, too soon, I will see her. And I don't know whether I'll run from her. Or reach for her. "Why are you in my head?" I ask, sharp and exhausted.
"Because you're not ready to wake up yet," she says. "If I let you go now, it will consume you before you even take a breath."
"That's nonsense," I growl. "If I can hear you, if I can think, then I can wake up."
"Not without consequences,"she says again."Your perspicacity has already awakened. Do you even know what that means?"
I go still. That word. Perspicacity. It's familiar. But not from books. Not from anything spoken. I've felt it. In the moment before everything went dark. When I saw something beyond the surface of the world. Shapes that didn't belong. Movements at the edge of vision. A presence, too close, breathing down my neck.
"You're lying," I say. But the words come without strength.
"You'll believe me soon." Her voice curls in around me again, soft and steady.
"Who are you?" I ask. "Why do you care so much?"
Silence.
It lasts too long. It presses in until I almost scream. Then I hear her again.
"I'll tell you when we meet."
Something in her tone makes my chest tighten. "Meet?"
"I'm on my way to you, Voivode."
The title hits harder this time. Her voice draws closer, like it's brushing the edges of my mind. Familiar, intimate but chilling.
I grit my teeth. This is insane. "You don't need to come to me. You just need to let me wake up. My team—"
"Your team will be fine." Her calm response enrages me. I can feel it rising, the heat behind my ribs.
"You don't understand. They need me."
She exhales. Not annoyed. Just... tired."Do you promise?" Her tone changes again, and the shift cuts deep.
"Promise what?" I ask, more wary now.
"To keep your mind open."
Something shifts in the air around me.
"To not panic when you see what shouldn't exist."
There's a weight forming. Invisible. Pressing down on my chest.
"To still trust your teammates, even when you realize they're not what they seem."
My breath catches. Not what they seem. I think of Minhyeung's confidence. Hyeunjun's quiet strength. Wooje, always watchful and Minseok's warmth. They're my friends, my teammates and also considered family. They're human, aren't they?
But the tone in her voice holds no room for lies. Only truth.
"Yes," I whisper.
The instant the word leaves me, something gives way. A chain breaks and the barrier falls so light floods in. Too bright and too fast. My eyes burn as they blink open. My lungs seize, then expand with a harsh gasp. Color floods back. Sound rushes in. My body aches, overwhelmed, every nerve raw and new. But for the first time in forever—
I breathe.
A pair of eyes meets mine. Golden-hazel. Familiar but glowing.
"Wait... why are they glowing?"
But they're warm and steady. Full of relief.
They blink once, slowly, and then the tension slips from his shoulders. He exhales, almost like he doesn't believe it. "Welcome back, Sanghyeok-hyung."
Ryu "Keria" Minseok. Still the same. The team's ever caring support. But now, also something different.
I blink once then twice. And the world slams back into place.