.
---
Chapter One: Escape
"Ho... Ho... Ho...
I woke up from the darkness, from suffocation, from nothingness...
I held my head in my palms. The blurry memories in my mind were in chaos, tangled together.
Faint memories of Daniel and of William...
Who am I? Where am I? How did I end up here?
Who am I...?
These were my last thoughts before falling into a coma."
"Wil... liam... Wi... lliam...
This thin voice echoing inside my mind... This name is both familiar and strange to me.
Who is it?
I forced my eyelids open. The gentle yet piercing light of the sun seeped into my eyes and caressed my skin.
I raised my hands to shield my face and slowly sat up.
I blinked a few times.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a little girl. A small girl with an innocent smile looked at me and said: 'William, come play with me!'
William? I am William... and yet, I am not. I am Daniel... but no longer Daniel either.
These chaotic memories were suddenly cut off by a dark line. That darkness was death itself.
Why am I alive again? Is there really nothingness after death? Then why am I here?
Does reincarnation exist, or...?"
"William! William?"
At that familiar voice, I woke from my meaningless thoughts. A woman, not too young, entered the room. She was Sister Catherine.
'Good morning, Sister.'
'Good morning, William. I heard you hurt yourself yesterday,' Sister Catherine said in her usual tone.
'It's nothing, Sister.'
She nodded, then looked at the little girl. Together, they left the room.
Afterward, I too left and went to the dining hall for breakfast.
I sat in a corner, staring at the mashed potatoes, then glanced at my faint memories. Such a resemblance...
In my past life, I was truly a nobody. And looking at myself now, I am still a nobody.
I am an orphan, living in an orphanage in England.
William, without a name and without a family.
At the age of 12, because of malnutrition, I looked like a frail nine-year-old boy—small and weak, just like everyone else.
It is the year 1996. Looking at my memories, life here doesn't seem so different.
Historically, culturally, and politically, I don't understand much. But religiously, it is the same as my past life. Christianity rules Europe, with dozens of different sects.
Thankfully, in this orphanage we don't deal with strange cults. We only sing hymns every Sunday at one of the local churches.
But really... it feels like something is wrong with this orphanage.
I can sense it, like the gut feeling of a determined reader of mystery, sci-fi, or supernatural detective novels.
Every six months, at a fixed time and hour, they choose five children. After that, no one knows where they are taken. And no one ever answers.
When we were younger, we all thought they were sent to heaven. But now, when I think about it, it's ridiculous.
Anyone who has experienced death knows there's nothing after it—nothing but emptiness. From personal experience, there is no heaven.
I must find out what is really happening here.
Next week, when the new group is chosen, I'll find out..."
---
One week passed quickly.
---
"This past week, I've felt that this life isn't much different from my previous one.
I've always been an introvert—depressed, without many friends, living mostly inside my own world. And William has the same personality.
The only friend William has is the little girl Nadia.
Nadia is a six-year-old, lively and playful girl, always laughing, always playing.
Like me, she has no one. But unlike me, she is surrounded by everyone's love. She has as many friends as the whole orphanage combined, and everyone is happy around her.
William never felt jealous of Nadia or her world. And neither do I.
She truly is one of the few beauties in life. In this one week at the orphanage, and at William's nearly thirteen years of age, I've come to hope this beauty and hope will last forever. Amen.
I slowly merged with this life. Now, I've accepted William as myself.
From now on, I am William.
As for the question of why I came back to life—I've let it go.
I have neither the knowledge nor the power to understand it.
And I know well that too much curiosity kills the cat."
---
It was around 9 p.m. Sister Catherine entered, expressionless as ever. As usual, she selected five children. If I remembered correctly, all of them had just celebrated their thirteenth birthdays.
The emotions in the other children's eyes were complex—sometimes jealousy, sometimes expectation, sometimes curiosity—as they were taken away.
The rest returned to their rooms. I was the last to leave, but I did not enter my room.
Instead, I put on black clothes, remembering the spy novels I had read, blending myself with the night.
I slipped out through the main door, following Sister Catherine's footprints.
In a corner of the yard stood the staff's quarters. They entered, the door closed, and only a faint light flickered through the window.
The cold autumn wind made me shiver.
It was terrifying.
Was it really right to spy like this?
I forced myself to take a look. With the last drop of courage, I peered through the window.
In the dim light... no one was there.
I sighed in relief, wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, and thought about the bigger problem.
Where could they have gone?
My first thought was that they had passed through a portal to the promised heaven. But I abandoned that—it was too unrealistic.
There had to be a hidden door. I had to go in and find it. It was too thrilling to ignore.
I opened the door carefully. A shriek in my mind urged me to calm down.
Inside was a small room, decorated with a few beds, tables, and chairs.
Based on my assumptions, there should be a door here.
I searched the corners, measured the walls, touched the cracks, even moved the few books on the shelf.
But there was nothing. Illogical.
So where had they gone?
Did they really go to heaven—or to hell?
I left the room and circled the building, but found nothing.
I was about to give up when a scream echoed from afar.
I turned my head, but saw nothing. The scream didn't stop.
It wasn't coming from outside—it was coming from beneath the floor.
I pressed my ear against the ground. The sound came from underground.
Such a dreadful sound...
Seconds later, I heard a clicking noise.
I jumped back and looked through the window again.
From the floor of the room, a trapdoor opened.
Sister Catherine emerged. Dressed in her nun's habit, her eyes were as cold as ice.
She washed her hands, stained with blood, using an embroidered handkerchief.
For a moment, she paused. Suddenly, she turned her head sharply.
But she saw nothing.
I pressed my hand against my mouth, my body drenched in cold sweat.
I didn't even dare to breathe.
It was terrifying.
After a few minutes, I looked again. The woman was now lying calmly on one of the beds, breathing steadily in sleep.
Silently, I stepped back. I moved away carefully, then ran back to my room.
The events of that night spun in my head.
The possibilities, the guesses, the stories from supernatural novels...
Was she sacrificing the children's souls to some demonic god for eternal life?
Or was she a witch, slaughtering children's bodies, devouring their souls for power?
It was horrifying.
I had to escape. I was too scared. My thoughts were a mess.
A stinging pain in my hand snapped me out of it. I looked at my hand and realized it was William's bad habit—tearing his fingernails.
That habit pulled me back to reality.
I thought again, this time logically.
If I were to escape, where would I go? With what money?
I don't even know these places. They could find me so easily.
I still have time. I must think more. Tonight, I should sleep.
But I couldn't. Fear devoured me.
Until morning, I didn't sleep at all.
For days afterward, I lost my appetite. My head was dizzy from exhaustion.
Little Nadia approached me, holding my hands. With her beautiful hazel eyes and innocent look, she asked:
'Why are you so sad, William? Do you want me to play with you?'
She smiled—an angelic, flawless smile.
Is this little girl the embodiment of purity and gentleness on earth?
I smiled back, nodded, and tried to comfort myself.
Why mourn? You're still alive. You've already faced death—why fear it now? Be strong and endure it.
I stood up, took two steps... and then collapsed, hitting my head on the floor.
And once again, I fell into a coma."
---
"Days later, my condition returned to normal.
I made a firm decision: I must escape.
But I am only a frail twelve-year-old boy, weakened by malnutrition. I need money.
I don't know what to do. The fastest way is theft... but how?
Today, we went to the local church to sing the sacred hymn.
Inside me, I called upon every god and goddess I could imagine to help me.
But I laughed at myself. Gods take more than they give.
We returned to the orphanage.
I thought, perhaps I should escape first, and then think about money later.
For the next few nights, I barely slept, watching the pattern of inspections by the staff.
9:00 p.m. lights out.
11:00 p.m. room inspections.
4:00 a.m. another inspection.
Every night, the same routine. Like a military camp.
The best time is after 11:00 p.m.
At that point, there are no hidden cameras. Perfect.
Tonight, I will escape.
At 11:10, after the staff finished their inspection, I slipped out of the room.
I went into the yard and peeked through the window.
Only the staff was inside, already asleep.
Perhaps that woman was underground again.
I left through the yard gate.
I stopped, facing forward, as the cold wind welcomed me.
I hate the unknown future. But what choice do I have?
This is the eternal law of life: whatever you gain, you must pay a price.
I pulled out a black cloth, tied it around my mouth, and ran into the depths of the night."
---