Lucien sat under the open sky, hoping for something wonderful—maybe someone would come to rescue him, or perhaps rain would fall from above. That would have been so nice. For some reason, his mind felt strangely peaceful now.
"Why do I feel so calm?"
He lay back, tilting his head toward the sky. His eyes grew heavy, and at this moment, he didn't want to think about anything.
Food?... No.
Water?... No.
The past?... No.
All he wanted was a little rest...
The right side of the tunnel was fairly clear—the way he had come from. A faint light glimmered from the shimmering crystals embedded there.
But the left side?
No.
There was no path to the left. A dead end, wasn't it? A lonely, dark tunnel where no one else existed, and at its very end, a boy lay as if peacefully asleep, looking from the outside as though he were resting comfortably.
Just like when someone wakes in the middle of the night, checks the time, and realizes there's still plenty left to sleep—so they drift back into slumber, content...
Drip...
Drip...
Drip...
Suddenly, a sound echoed—something dripping, sliding down the walls. It had been going on for a while, but Lucian hadn't noticed. He was still asleep.
Then—an itch crept over the back of his neck. Instinctively, his hand flew to the spot. When he pulled it away, his fingers felt... damp.
Suddenly, his senses snapped back. Realizing he was alone, he quickly sat up. He touched his neck again with his own hand.
Yes, his hand was wet—water!
There must be a water source nearby!
He looked around frantically but couldn't see any immediate changes. Then—
drip… drip…—the sound returned. Following it, he moved closer to the left wall and saw it—tiny droplets of water falling. Not much, but enough to keep him alive.
Did God finally take pity on him?
Maybe God understood that he had been sent here by mistake. And now, seeing him on the verge of death from thirst, He had arranged this small mercy.
Either way, there was no time to overthink it. Cupping his hands together, he began collecting the droplets. When his palms were full, he gulped it down in one go—as if it were some heavenly potion.
The moment the water hit his throat, his face twisted. He gagged, coughed, and bent forward as a stream of briny vomit splashed onto the ground, leaving him gasping for air.
Saltwater!?
What the hell!?
Now it seemed like God had played a cruel trick on him. When he was dying of thirst, he found no water—and when he finally did, it was undrinkable? How unfortunate.
But… wait.
How could there be saltwater here unless there was a sea or ocean nearby? That meant the tunnel must be close to the coast.
Wait—
The water was dripping from above, right?
Lucien looked up and saw it—the water was indeed seeping through the ceiling. And with every passing second, the dripping grew faster, heavier.
Then suddenly, he sees it—a whole waterfall-like torrent filling the entire pit and crashing downward.
Thud...
Thud...
Lucien's chest tightens at the sight. There's no time even to feel fear. Acting purely on instinct, he scrambles away from the base of the pit and grabs onto a large rock, gripping it tightly.
Otherwise, with the sheer force of the falling water, if even a fraction of it were to hit his head directly, it would crush his skull completely—then sweep his body away, smashing it against the far end of the tunnel.
The water slams violently against the ground. The impact is brutal—a loud crash—as the water spreads rapidly to the right. The current is so powerful that it threatens to drag him away, but clinging desperately to the rock keeps him from being swept off.
Right now, he's hanging between life and death by a thread.
He knows—the moment he lets go, it's all over. So with every ounce of strength left, he clings to the rock.
The water is freezing, shockingly cold—like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over him. Within moments, it rises to his neck. The current has weakened slightly, but water is still pouring relentlessly from above, filling the tunnel.
Now, as the inky black water threatens to swallow him whole, he takes one deep, desperate breath. He has to hold it—as long as humanly possible.
No!
He must hold his breath until this entire tunnel is completely submerged. Only then, when the pressure equalizes, can he push through and escape.
It's the only way to survive.
Though time seemed to crawl for him, in reality, everything happened in mere moments. Within roughly a minute, the entire tunnel was completely flooded.
And now—Lucien's chance.
He releases his grip on the rock and lets himself sink to the bottom of the pit. Since the tunnel was now fully submerged, the crushing force of the waterfall had weakened. The current was no longer violent, just a heavy, swirling mass of water.
Lucien kicks upward, swimming against the freezing depths. His body trembles violently—his blood feels like it's turning to ice. The creeping numbness clawed up his hands, a quiet warning from a body on the verge of shutting down.
But he doesn't stop. He can't.
How long can an ordinary person hold their breath?
It doesn't matter. He won't give up.
He has to survive.
Why?
Because this is his life. If he doesn't fight for it, who will?
Now It doesn't matter who lives or dies. He isn't willing to sacrifice himself for anyone. What others think means nothing—it won't save him. If he dies here, that's it. Everything ends.
Life is too precious.
How can he just give up?
So he swims.
Upward.
Through the crushing dark.
Toward the faintest shimmer of hope.
After what felt like an eternity—
Two minutes?
Three?
Five?
Ten?
He couldn't tell—Lucien finally saw light.
A violet glow seeped through the inky black water, illuminating the darkness above him. His heart pounded—thump, thump, thump—wild with hope.
Yes. Just a little more.
Just a little more, and I'll break the surface.
But his lungs burned. His chest screamed for air. Every second stretched into agony.
If I gasp now, it's all over.
All this suffering—for nothing.
Just a little longer. Just until I reach the top. I've held on this long—I can last a few more seconds.
No way I'll give up after coming this far.
His limbs felt like lead, his muscles numb with cold. The short distance stretched into an endless nightmare. But he clawed upward, fighting the weight of the abyss.
Then—
Air.
His head broke the surface.
"HAAAH—!"
Gasping, choking, he dragged in desperate lungfuls of life.
He'd made it.
Though the ocean water was bitterly cold, Lucien could feel his blood gradually warming—though he knew it wouldn't last unless he got out of the sea soon.
The waves were violent, crashing relentlessly around him. Instead of fighting them, he decided to move with the current. He stopped thrashing, conserving his energy. Now, he only made small, controlled movements—just enough to keep his balance and let the tide carry him.
Time blurred. Had it been half an hour? Longer?
Somehow, he had traveled a considerable distance across this endless sea. The water was freezing, but not deadly cold—not enough to kill him outright. That's why he was still breathing. Still alive.
Then—something blurred in the distance.
His vision was hazy, but the shape grew clearer as it approached.
A ship.
No—not like any ship he knew. Its design was strange . But none of that mattered now. Only one thought burned in his mind:
Did I… actually survive?
A rare, disbelieving smile broke across his face.
A smile unlike any he'd ever worn before.
"At last…"
"I am alive."