A faint, persistent ringing echoed in her ears.
The girl slowly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling—pure white, like it had swallowed all colors of the world.
"...What happened? Why am I here?" Her voice came out low and serious.
She sat up, her heart pounding. Nothing looked familiar—the bed, the walls, even the air felt wrong. Was I... reincarnated?
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Out of habit, she stood and straightened the sheets. But as she reached for the window, a creeping unease slowed her movements.
"...What am I doing? I should check where I am first."
With a trembling hand, she pulled the curtains aside.
What she saw made her freeze.
Outside was nothing—no sky, no clouds, no sun, no ground. Just an endless white void stretching forever.
"...This can't be right," she whispered.
"And that was the end of the girl who woke in the white world," she said gently, closing the worn book.
Chapter 1 — Nine Years Later (Polished)
December 30, 2039.
A pale sky hung above the quiet cemetery, colored in shades of winter gray. Snow fell gently, covering the ground like white dust.
A single boy stood before a small grave, holding a flower that had already begun to wilt in his trembling hand. The name of his mother was carved into the cold stone.
For a long time, he didn't say anything. The wind brushed against his hair, whispering softly through the silence.
Then, his voice almost broke apart with the air.
"Mom, today marks fourteen years since I was born. It's my birthday... the same day you left us."
His words trembled. He tried to smile, but it came out weak—almost painful.
"You used to tell me to be strong, right? That I should smile no matter what…"
His throat tightened. The flower slipped from his fingers and landed softly against the grave. A tear rolled down his cheek, then another, until his vision blurred completely.
"But… it's really hard, Mom. It's really, really hard without you."
He knelt, pressing his forehead against the stone. The cold bit into his skin, but he didn't move. He just stayed there, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Happy birthday… to me, Mom."
The snow continued to fall—quiet, endless, as if the world itself was mourning with him.
The boy stood up, wiping the last tear from his cheek. He forced a faint, empty smile that never reached his eyes—a smile no one would ever believe.
"I'll be fine… right, Mom?"
He turned and began to walk away, his steps slow and heavy, leaving small prints on the path. His eyes were lifeless, as if the light inside him had already gone out.
As he walked past the cemetery gates, a voice suddenly called out.
"Hey… are you okay?"
He looked up slightly.
A girl stood a few meters ahead—about his age, holding a red umbrella. Her eyes were gentle, filled with concern.
"What happened to you?" she asked softly. "Why do you look so sad? Is there anything I can do for you?"
The boy didn't answer. He just walked past her, not even glancing at her face.
The girl blinked, surprised. She turned around quickly and called again, her voice shaking slightly.
"A-Ahm… wait! Can I ask you something?"
The boy stopped.
For a moment, everything was silent—no wind, no sound, just still air between them.
Slowly, he turned around.
His eyes met hers: empty, colorless, yet glistening with fresh tears.
"What… and why?" he cracked out. "Why aren't you asking what happened to me?"
His voice was broken—not angry, just a heavy tone that made the air feel thick.
The girl froze, words caught in her throat. And for a second, she saw it—the loneliness behind those lifeless eyes. The kind that needed understanding more than saving.
The boy lowered his head, his tears falling silently onto the snow.
"No one ever asks that… not really," he whispered.
With that, he turned away once more, walking toward the fading horizon—his shadow stretching long and thin under the pale winter light.
She hesitated for a moment, clutching her umbrella tighter. Then she took a small step forward.
"W–Wait," she called again. "Can I… at least know your name?"
The boy paused, the faint sound of snow crunching under his shoes breaking the silence.
Then, slowly, he turned his head just enough for her to see his expression. His eyes were dull, but carried a quiet weight that made her chest tighten.
"...My name?"
A faint breath escaped his lips—half a sigh, half a whisper.
"Shin."
A beat of silence followed.
"Shin Hakashita."
The way he said it—calm, distant, like it no longer belonged to him—made the girl's heart ache.
"Shin…" she repeated softly.
He gave her a weak, almost forced smile—one that felt like it might shatter at any second.
"Don't bother remembering it," he said quietly. "It doesn't matter anymore."
Before she could reply, he turned and continued walking, his figure slowly fading into the pale mist of falling snow.
The girl stood there, unable to move, watching him disappear. Something inside her whispered that this boy—this Shin Hakashita—was carrying a sorrow deeper than she could ever imagine.
And though she didn't know it yet... this was the moment their fates quietly began to intertwine.
A truck careened out of control, tires screeching as it hurtled toward the girl.
Without thinking, Shin bolted forward.
The girl's eyes widened in shock. Why is he running toward me…?
Before she could react, he reached her, shoving her out of the truck's path. The force sent her sprawling to the ground. Dirt and debris flew around her, but she was safe—just barely.
The last thing she saw before her vision blurred was Shin slamming into the truck, the impact throwing his body backward.
Darkness swallowed him.
When he opened his eyes, everything had changed.
"Huh…?" Shin's voice trembled. His heart raced as he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where…where is the girl?"
Shock painted across his face, his hands trembling as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.