He woke up to the smell of dust.
It was dark, and colder than it should've been.
The floor beneath him was old wood—splintered and uneven. Walls surrounded him, narrow and suffocating. No windows. No warmth. Just silence and shadow. But he knew this place. Knew it not by sight, but by the sting in his chest.
The storeroom.
Not here again…
His body moved sluggishly, every step weighed down by a pressure he couldn't name. His gaze drifted to the far wall—and there it was.
A mirror.
Crooked. Framed in rusted iron. Half-covered by a sheet, but still enough to show a reflection.
A child stood in it.
Not Kael.
A boy—no older than ten. Barefoot. Shivering. Staring back at him with wide, pleading eyes.
Is this a dream?
The thought formed like a whisper, but the weight of the air answered otherwise.
And then—
Knock. Knock.
A voice—choked by emotion—came through the locked door.
"Do you repent now, my son?"
His breath hitched. That voice—
"I've told you to be a good son," she continued, softer now. "Why aren't you listening to me?"
She was crying. The sound of her pain sliced deeper than the silence ever could.
He fell to his knees before the door.
"No… Mom…!"
The cry escaped his lips—not his will, not his choice. His body moved on instinct, memory guiding his every breath. Fists pounded the wood again and again, as if by doing so, he could change the past.
"I'm sorry… please, forgive me!"
Tears burned down his cheeks, hot and endless.
"I'll be good. I'll behave. Please don't leave me here. I'm scared!"
The door never opened.
The voice beyond it only grew fainter… distant… like it belonged to a ghost.
Until finally—
"I wish I'd never given birth to you…"
Silence.
Then, blackness swallowed everything.
-----------------------------------------
The light returned. But colder.
Fluorescent. Sharp. Clinical.
He was standing again—but in a different place.
White tiles. Cold linoleum. A classroom. Familiar.
His breath caught in his throat as the smell of gunpowder clung to the air.
Desks scattered. Chairs overturned.
And bodies.
Blood trailed along the tiled floor like veins.
A gun sat heavy in his hand.
His eyes moved—trembling—and found a group of teenagers lined against the chalkboard. Their hands raised. Their faces contorted with terror.
No… not this… please, not this again…
They were crying. Begging. Hands clasped. Voices cracking.
But his body moved without his consent.
His finger curled around the trigger.
Bang.
A boy collapsed. Screams.
Bang. Another. A girl fell, eyes open but lifeless.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, but his lips lifted into a bitter smile. His voice—his younger self—sounded far away. Echoing over the carnage.
"May you pray me a hell."
More blood. More silence.
By the time the noise stopped, the room was red. And he—at the center of it all—stood surrounded by corpses.
His foot shifted. He looked down.
In the blood on the ground, he saw his reflection again.
But this time—it wasn't the boy.
It wasn't even the one holding the gun.
It was Kael.
White hair. Red-and-gold eyes. Face pale and distant.
Who am I now…?
-----------------------------------------
He didn't fall this time.
He was already falling.
The memory shattered, and reality returned like a blade to the ribs.
The stone was cold. Rain drizzled overhead. He lay at the base of the old tower, his limbs sprawled, his body unresponsive.
Everything hurts.
The pain was heavy and real. No dream could have left bruises this deep.
His vision blurred—but not from tears this time.
Blood pooled beneath him, warm against the earth.
And in that blurred vision, a shadow moved.
A small figure stood at the top of the broken stairwell. Rain glinted against his hair—brown and messy. A worn school uniform. Shoes soaked. Familiar.
The boy.
The one he'd chased through the garden.
The one he'd once been.
The child stared down at him with hollow eyes, face unreadable.
Kael's mouth parted, his voice trapped in his throat.
The boy stepped forward to the edge.
And then—he spoke.
"Don't forget me."
His voice was calm. Final.
"Don't forgive me."
A tear fell from Kael's eye—silent, slow—and vanished into the red.
His breath began to fade.
The world tilted sideways.
And somewhere beyond the dark—
"YOUNG MASTER!"
Robert's voice, distant but desperate, echoed through the garden.
"NOO!"
But Kael no longer heard.
The shadows welcomed him again.