Zekai slowly opened his eyes at the edge of death.
Everything around him was white.
Not light. Not color. Just the absence of everything else.
"What the hell is this place?"
For a moment, he couldn't tell whether his eyes were actually open or still closed.
His balance collapsed instantly as his feet searched for ground that didn't seem to exist.
It felt like his body had arrived before the world did.
The white had no direction. No source. No depth.
It simply existed.
Zekai forced himself to breathe. Then he immediately looked down at his own body.
"Huh?"
His hand shot to his chest. The wound was gone.
The hole where the Fool card had pierced him had completely disappeared.
Not even blood remained. He quickly touched the spot again, pressing harder as if expecting pain.
Nothing.
"Everything vanished… without leaving even the slightest trace!"
"That's good…"
'Then… what were all those things I saw before? Were any of them even real?'
His voice sounded thin… distant.
Sound didn't travel—it stayed where it was spoken. Like it didn't belong anywhere else.
Zekai slowly lifted his head and looked around again. There was no horizon. No ceiling. No ground he could trust.
It felt like the concept of distance itself had been removed. Like direction no longer mattered.
Zekai slowly stretched his hand forward. Nothing resisted. No air pressure. No surface. No sensation. It felt like touching emptiness itself.
"This isn't real."
But saying it aloud changed nothing.
His foot found resistance—not solid ground, but enough to support his weight.
Not because something was truly there—but because he expected it to be.
Zekai looked downward again. Still nothing visible beneath him.
"…Good."
"At least I can walk."
Even if the ground didn't exist—something was responding.
Or perhaps—responding to him.
Everything remained completely white. Without landmarks, he couldn't even determine direction.
'Okay… think.'
There was no sense of north, east, west, or south. Just endless blankness.
Standing still clearly wouldn't help. So he chose an arbitrary direction and began walking.
At first, his footsteps felt steady.But after a while—something felt wrong.
No matter how far he went, it didn't feel like he was getting closer to anything.
No endpoint approached. No sensation of progress existed.
It didn't feel like moving. Only repeating the idea of movement. As if he had been blindfolded and placed in a space where direction itself no longer existed.
Zekai finally stopped and exhaled slowly.
"…Fine."
"If I can't trust this place…"
"I'll make my own direction."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin.
If this place refused to provide logic—then chance would.
This coin would decide his direction now.
He didn't know where this place would lead him.
Leaving it to chance felt no different from deciding himself.
"If it lands heads…"
"I keep going forward."
"If it's tails…"
"I turn back."
He stared at it for a second.
"Let's try."
He held the coin between his thumb and index finger and flipped it into the air.
It spun rapidly—
but for a fraction of a second it froze mid-spin. As if something had interfered.
Like the result had already been decided, and the motion itself was merely catching up.
"…Did something control that?"
Then it resumed spinning normally. The coin landed.
"Heads."
Zekai frowned.
He stared at the coin for another moment.
Then shook his head.
"Or maybe my mind's just messing with me."
Zekai tossed the coin into the air once more, caught it mid-air, then slipped it back into his pocket.
"…Alright. So in the end, I'm just supposed to walk the path you already decided for me!"
He didn't question it further. He continued walking straight ahead.
This time—something felt different.
The longer he moved, the stronger the sensation became. It was subtle. Difficult to explain. But unmistakable.
It didn't feel like he was moving through the space. It felt like the space was adjusting around him.
This place wasn't fixed at all. As if it rearranged itself according to his movement.
Still nothing visible existed. Only endless white.
Then something appeared. Far ahead. At first, it was vague shapes. Just forms inside the white.
Zekai narrowed his eyes and walked closer.
Slowly, the shapes became clearer. Not like objects appearing but like something deciding to be acknowledged.
They looked like giant statues standing in the white void.
And for some reason—it felt like they had already been there. Waiting. For him.
Zekai stopped completely. He tried counting them using his fingers but before he could—
he already knew the number.
"…Twenty-one."
The number surfaced in his mind instantly. Like some part of him recognized them before he consciously did.
The statues stood in a wide circle around him.
Towering. Incomplete.
Their faces were unfinished and limbs half-formed. But they weren't damaged.
Not broken. Left intentionally unfinished. Some weren't even standing properly frozen midway through motion, as if they had stopped while attempting to move.
All of them faced inward. Toward him. A chill crawled down Zekai's spine.
They had no eyes. Yet he felt watched.
Not curiosity. Recognition.
"What are these statues…?"
No answer came. Silence swallowed the question. Zekai looked around, trying to see what else existed there.
Then—a voice.
"Hey, fool."
He froze. His pulse tightened instantly.
There shouldn't have been anyone here.
Slowly—he turned toward the direction of the voice.
Nothing just only endless white.
"…Not funny."
Then again—
"Hey, fool."
This time, the voice sounded farther away.
The space shifted not physically but perceptually. White smoke spread through the distance.
At the edge of it—a figure. Far away Only a silhouette. Too distant to identify.
Zekai's body stopped trying to rationalize it.
Because something deeper recognized it first.
Something about the figure felt fundamentally wrong.
"Who are you?"
No response. The silhouette vanished.
Zekai's stomach dropped.
Then—
"Looking for me?"
Closer now. He turned sharply. Nothing.
"Over here."
He spun again. The silhouette stood elsewhere now.
Still distant. Still obscured. Every time he tried focusing—its shape shifted. As if clarity itself was being denied.
"Who the hell are you?!" Zekai shouted.
The silhouette tilted its head slightly. Then vanished again.
Laughter followed. Not loud. Not echoing.
Just—everywhere.
Zekai clenched his jaw. This wasn't random. Then another silhouette appeared.
Closer one appeared close enough that he nearly reached it—and vanished before he could blink.
One... then another. Then several. Surrounding him. Same shape. Different positions. Watching.
Zekai stepped backward instinctively.
One appeared closer. Distance collapsed.
Fear overtook logic. Zekai ran. But nothing changed.
The figures didn't chase him. They simply appeared wherever he intended to go.
Ahead of him. Watching. Blocking.
Every attempt to focus failed. The moment he looked—they shifted where he was about to look. Not moving. Repositioning through perception itself.
Then it hit him.
"…Distance doesn't exist here."
The moment he understood—everything stopped.
His body froze instantly. He couldn't move. Something unseen pressed down on him.
Absolute. Unavoidable. It wasn't force. It was authority. Something deciding his place.
'My body is obeying before I can refuse.'
His knees struck the invisible ground before he consciously understood what happened.
The impact didn't hurt. That made it worse. He resisted. Not physically but something deeper resisted.
'I've never knelt to anyone.'
'I didn't agree to this.'
It didn't matter. The thought came without pride without rebellion Just fact.
But the pressure didn't care. The space had already decided. The silhouettes vanished.
All except one. The pressure changed.
Focused now. The white smoke slowly parted.
Not because the figure entered—because everything else moved aside.
Footsteps approached.
A tall figure emerged. The white space itself seemed to adjust around him.
Not reacting. Yielding. Even the light behaved strangely. It bent slightly around his body, avoiding direct contact.
His bare feet hovered just above the invisible floor.
A pale coat hung loosely over his frame, stitched with faint gold thread. A worn satchel rested at his side. Soft pale hair drifted gently.
At the center of his chest—a white flower grew. Not attached. Growing directly from him.
He stopped in front of Zekai. For a brief moment everything behind him felt delayed.
Even his shadow lagged slightly behind his movement. As if it belonged to a different timing.
Or had arrived late. He tilted his head and studied Zekai.
Then smiled. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Amused. Like the outcome had already been decided.
"…You." His voice was calm.
Soft. "You finally arrived."
A brief pause followed. Then—
"Took you long enough."
As if this had never been a choice. As if Zekai had always been expected here.
Inside, Zekai's thoughts erupted.
'Me???'
The white space remained silent.
✦ End of Chapter 10 — White Space I ✦