Kairo Ren had solved impossible cases since he was eleven. By fifteen, the media already called him the world's greatest detective prodigy. He was the boy who could read crime scenes like open books, the genius who saw what others missed. Yet tonight, inside his best friend's cramped bedroom, Kairo faced something even his razor-sharp mind couldn't unravel.
Lian Verne's room was chaos incarnate—piles of physics journals, copper wires coiling across the floor, unfinished gadgets half-buried under pizza boxes. In the center stood a strange device, about the size of a chair, covered in spiraling metal rings and glowing coils. It hummed faintly, like it was breathing.
"You're late," Lian muttered, his black hair sticking out in all directions. His eyes sparkled with the kind of madness only a true prodigy could pull off.
"You said it was urgent," Kairo replied, pushing his glasses up. His voice was flat, unimpressed. "What am I looking at? Don't tell me this is another toaster you claim bends time."
"This," Lian declared, jabbing a finger at the machine, "is history. A multiverse transporter. The first of its kind."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "Right. And last week you said your alarm clock could open wormholes. What does this one do—make breakfast in parallel universes?"
"Ha-ha, very funny." Lian crouched beside the device, flicking switches. "Watch carefully. This is going to change everything."
The coils lit up, blue sparks dancing across the metal. A low vibration shook the floor. For a heartbeat, Kairo thought he actually heard something beyond the hum of electricity—a strange whisper, like wind brushing against glass.
And then—pfft. Darkness.
The machine coughed out a small trail of smoke and went silent.
Lian cursed, slamming his palm against the table. "Damn it! It was working earlier. Stay here, don't touch anything. I'll grab tools." He stormed out, muttering formulas under his breath.
The room fell quiet.
Kairo exhaled slowly, stepping closer to the contraption. He wasn't a physicist, but every mystery was a puzzle. Machines had rules, just like people. Wires, gears, intentions—they all left clues.
"Let's see what your secret is," he murmured, leaning in.
His fingers brushed against the metal.
⚡ WHRRRRMMMM!
The coils roared to life. Light burst from the machine, swallowing the walls, the bed, everything. Heat surged through his chest. His skin tingled like it was being torn apart and rebuilt. His vision blurred white.
Then silence.
Kairo staggered forward, blinking rapidly. His lungs burned, but he was breathing. He was alive.
But something was wrong.
This wasn't Lian's bedroom anymore.
The air smelled musty, heavy with dust. Dim moonlight leaked through a cracked window. Around him lay broken desks, toppled lockers, and piles of forgotten junk. Cobwebs covered the ceiling. The walls were chipped, yellow with age.
He knew this place.
The garbage room at his school.
A forgotten storage classroom no one entered anymore.
His throat went dry. He turned his head—and froze.
On the dusty floor lay a body.
A boy. Pale. Motionless. Eyes closed, chest still.
Kairo's heart stuttered.
It was him.
Kairo Ren.
He stumbled backward, his hand slamming against a rusted locker. "No… that's not possible…"
The dead boy looked exactly like him. Same black hair, same sharp features, even the same school uniform. His glasses were cracked, the frame bent. But the skin was cold, lifeless.
Beside the body lay another figure—Lian. He wasn't dead, only unconscious, his arm twisted awkwardly under him.
Kairo's breathing turned ragged. His thoughts raced, colliding like crashing trains.
> I'm alive. I'm standing here. But I'm looking at myself dead. How?
Did I travel? No—did I… replace him?
If that's my body… then who am I now?
The fluorescent light above flickered weakly, buzzing like a dying insect. Dust swirled in the air, shimmering in the moonlight. Every detail pressed in on him, too vivid, too real.
Kairo crouched slowly, his hands trembling as he reached toward the corpse—his corpse. He stopped just inches away. He couldn't bring himself to touch it. The detective in him wanted to investigate, to confirm. But the human in him recoiled.
His mind screamed with questions, but no answers came. For the first time in years, the world's greatest detective had no deduction. No theory. Only confusion.
He staggered back again, clutching his head.
"This… this isn't real," he whispered to the silence. His voice cracked, shaky. "It can't be real."
But the body didn't vanish. The room didn't change. And Lian didn't wake.
Kairo Ren was alive. And yet… he was also dead.
The boy who thought he could solve any mystery had just stumbled into the greatest one of all.
The mystery of himself.
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