His head throbbed, his vision swam and was covered by a red veil, his bones creaked, and an unimaginable ringing filled his ears.
These sensations flooded Cassian's consciousness as he came to.
Struggling to his feet, he surveyed the office in a dazed state.
The entire space was engulfed in flames; furniture lay scattered and splintered; bodies—or what remained of them—were strewn everywhere; and a thick layer of soot hanging in the air obscured his sight.
Still numb, Cassian shuffled through the office.
Disoriented, he couldn't fully grasp the situation, moving like a zombie as he scanned the room.
A man covered in fire writhed in convulsions; a woman with a pierced chest crawled toward the exit; another man clutched the place where his leg had been torn off; and dozens more bodies lay scattered across the floor.
Strangely, this gruesome scene evoked no disgust in Cassian at that moment.
It made sense, though—not a single coherent thought had yet formed in his mind.
'Hurts…' he thought, feeling hellish pain radiate from his right side.
Glancing down, he saw his right flank was burned beyond recognition.
'Oh…' he mused silently, then shuffled onward toward the exit.
He'd completely forgotten his original plan to escape via the fire stairs and instead headed for the main entrance.
His senses gradually returned.
The ringing faded, and though his vision remained tinted red, it grew sharper.
The moment he stepped on his scorched foot, he screamed and collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
Shock had passed, replaced by an overwhelming wave of agony.
'Hurts…'
"AAAAAH!"
"H-help…"
'What happened?'
"Someone, please, help me…"
'Why did this happen?'
"Gah… kkh…"
"It hurts, it hurts so much…"
'Why are these people screaming?'
"Cassian…"
'Why are *they* in pain?'
"Cassian!.."
'Can nothing be done…?'
"CASSIAN!"
Amidst the moans, cries, and pleas for help, a familiar, clear voice calling his name tore Cassian from his thoughts.
Lifting his gaze, he saw Matt.
His hair was singed, wounds marked his face and body, and his black suit hung in tatters.
Yet…
"Bastard's got all the luck…" Cassian whispered with a weak smile.
Compared to him and the others, Matt was practically unscathed.
"Jesus Christ, is the man blessed or what?"
"There you are, I've been—" Matt cut himself off, lips tightening at Cassian's pitiful state.
"Fuck, they really did a number on you, but it's fine.
Come on, we need to get out."
He carefully crouched, wrapping an arm around Cassian's shoulders while avoiding his burned side.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you have left already?"
"Heh, when I was leaving, I stopped to chat with some old colleagues when… f-fuck, that guy's head is just… gone… Anyway, the first explosion hit. I reacted fast and hit the deck right before the second blast. That's what saved me."
Matt spoke in his usual manner, trying to distract from the panic around them.
And though he sounded casual, Cassian saw him trembling…
'Well, he's human. It's natural,' Cassian thought, glancing at Matt's back.
Matt's back was no better than Cassian's right side, yet he kept pretending it didn't faze him.
"This? Don't worry, just a little singed. I'm good… okay, turn right here."
"Matt…"
"Hm? What's up, Cass? Point to where it hurts…"
"The building's collapsing, and we're on the 63rd floor. Do you really think we can make it out?"
Cassian hissed, his voice strained.
"Why the fuck are we even moving? It won't change anything!"
he gritted out bitterly.
Matt fell silent for a moment, then looked at Cassian and spoke gravely:
"You know, even a thousand chains of misfortune can turn into one stroke of luck that flips your whole life upside down. You never know what's ahead. Maybe in a few steps, we dodge falling debris. Maybe in a few meters, we find a safe pocket where rescuers will pull us out. Maybe this path is our way out. Fate… we can't see it, hear it, or even know if it's real. You never know how it—or Luck—will steer your life. That's why we have to move forward. To see what they've got waiting for us. So tell me, Cassian. Tell me: Do you want to die? Leave your gray-haired parents who were so proud their son landed a job at a prestigious company? Leave your little brother who hasn't even finished high school? Leave all the friends you've laughed with? Leave me here alone? Is that what you want? Answer me."
"I… I don't want to die," Cassian whispered weakly.
He wasn't a natural leader, someone who shielded others—that was Matt's role.
But even he knew when to pull himself together and push back despair.
He loved his parents, who'd poured their lives into raising him; he loved his brother, a younger version of himself, even if he didn't show it; he loved Matt, who hadn't abandoned him in this desperate moment and gave him strength to keep going.
For them… for all of them, he could be strong, just for a while.
"See? You don't want to die in this shithole. Your will to live fuels you. And that will helps you move forward," Matt smiled, watching some color return to Cassian's resolve.
"Heh. Since when did you learn to sweet-talk like that?"
Cassian raised an eyebrow.
"Mmm, y'know, recently. Read a couple of smart books to impress the ladies."
"A couple? Ha-ha-ha! Oh god, with skills like that, you should be preaching in a church!"
Cassian couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Haa, yeah. After all this, the church might be my only option left," Matt sighed.
"You know what… Matt," Cassian said, eyes dropping to the floor.
"You know people are hypocrites. They act differently from what they preach. I thought you were just a brainless, show-off halfwit. Turns out even you hold more philosophy than I do."
"Heh, well, we're all hypocrites in some way, so… hey, did you just call me a brainless halfwit?!"
Matt shot him an offended look.
"Anyway, everyone's a hypocrite to some degree, consciously or not. We can't say which, so don't sweat it too much."
"Yeah… yeah, we're all hypocrites. Sorry. That's why… what I do now… I think it's the best choice…"
In the next instant, Cassian mustered every ounce of strength and shoved Matt forward.
Simultaneously, the floor beneath his feet gave way.
Cassian's forehead struck the jagged edge of the collapsing floor, and he plummeted backward.
As he fell, he faintly heard Matt shout something after him—but he couldn't make it out.
After a moment of freefall, everything plunged into darkness again.
…
…
…
'Who am I?'
'Cassian Warren.'
'Where am I?'
'In darkness.'
'How did I get here?'
'I died.'
'How did I die?'
'Saving a friend.'
'How long have I been conscious?'
'Unknown.'
'Why am I thinking?'
'Unknown.'
'Do I have a body?'
'Unknown.'
'Do I have a mind?'
'Unknown.'
'What is my purpose?'
'Unknown.'
A myriad of questions flashed through Cassian's mind, instantly followed by answers.
He didn't know who replied—him, his other self, or some entity.
He couldn't discern up from down, left from right; couldn't comprehend or perceive anything.
He felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing; even the mere thought of existing felt like a burden.
'Is this death?'
He didn't know which part of his mind answered.
'So this is how it is… No grim reaper. No light at the end of a tunnel. No spiritual eternity. No heaven, hell, or purgatory… Just eternal darkness and you alone with your thoughts. The worst ending.'
'I… Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I failed.' He didn't know how much time passed before this thought surfaced.
'I'm sorry… everyone… I'm sorry…' Everyone Cassian had ever known flashed through his mind.
He apologized and begged forgiveness for every possible thing.
He relived every moment of luck and failure, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood.
All to delay the fading of his last shreds of consciousness.
If he'd had a mouth, he would've screamed with all his might; if eyes, he'd have wept endlessly; if hands, he'd have scraped his fingers to the bone against the ground if it meant preserving himself for one more moment.
Even briefly, he didn't want to lose his "self."
So he forced himself to think.
Any random thought, question, or idea might—just might—keep him from forgetting who he was.
Yet despite his efforts, his mind dimmed.
'I remember… what Matt tried to tell me… before I died. That if I want to live… you'll find the strength to live. That's what he tried to say… Yes, I… couldn't die… and this is all a dream. I'll probably wake up in a hospital soon… with my family beside me… and the police will catch whoever… did this. Fuck, I'm so angry at them… at the ones who did this… who don't value human life… Though… I didn't value it either… at least not my own… But still… if… if I hadn't pushed Matt then… I'd be alive now… right?.. All I had to do… was use him as leverage to push myself forward… Even with all my will to live, I did the opposite… Nothing can be changed now… I couldn't have survived anyway… Which means… I really am dead.' Strangely, in this cascade of thoughts, he briefly felt a knot of emotions flicker through his fading consciousness.
'If… this… is the end… then… please… call out to me… one last…'
***
"…Cassian…"
"Huh?"
"Moruway Cassian, step into the circle. Your evaluation begins now."