It was a cold morning on November 7, 2016. The city streets flowed endlessly, a
constant motion where hours seemed to lose their meaning. Lights turned on and off,
an unbroken cycle that marked the passage of time without any real importance.
At 8:00 p.m., a solitary figure walked along an empty street. He wore a dark green jacket
that blended with his loose-fitting black pants. Navy blue shoes completed his outfit.
His black hair fell messily over his forehead, showing how little he cared about his
appearance. He was not someone who worried about how he looked.
What did stand out were his eyes—crimson red, striking even within the shadows of the
night. His name was Shiro, a seventeen-year-old boy about to finish high school. At that
stage, classes had become the least important thing for someone like him, who had
already secured the minimum grades needed to pass. That night, he was leaving a
small convenience store with a few snacks and a drink in hand, ready for yet another
routine evening.
Shiro, somewhat tall for his age at 1.80 meters, walked through the strangely empty
streets. His body—slender but steady—moved calmly until, while crossing an alleyway,
something white caught his attention. Without thinking too much, he turned his gaze
toward it, feeling a faint curiosity push him to step inside the alley.
As he crouched to take a closer look, he noticed a small, cold object with a smooth
surface hidden in the shadows. He picked it up with two fingers of his left hand—the
one not holding the shopping bag. He felt its weight resting in his palm, a sensation that
made him slightly uneasy. Still, he dismissed it and took another step deeper into the
alley.
Suddenly, something splashed against his shoe. It felt liquid—different from what one
would expect from an ordinary puddle. At first, Shiro paid no attention, but discomfort
crept in when he began to notice a strange smell lingering in the air.
Despite his doubts, he moved forward, driven by his need to understand what was going
on. When he reached the source, he saw a wallet lying on the ground. Opening it, he
found a large amount of money, which he quickly stuffed into his pockets.
That was when a fly brushed against his cheek.
Annoyed by the sensation, he instinctively turned toward the sound—only to freeze.
A chill ran down his spine, and for a moment, his body refused to move.
Before him lay a dismembered body, completely unrecognizable. Torn flesh, exposed
bones, blood covering the ground. The smell he had noticed earlier was now
unbearable. Fear wrapped around him instantly, and his breathing became erratic.
In a reflexive motion, he dropped the bag of groceries, which hit the pool of blood with a
dull splash.
Unable to think clearly, Shiro let out a broken breath. The scene before him was too
much to process. He tried to move, to react—but his body would not respond.
When he finally managed to stand, a distant sound pulled him out of his trance. From
the entrance of the alley, three figures emerged. One of them—a tall, thin man—
approached without any sense of urgency. Another, to his left, dropped a cigarette with
an irritated gesture.
The third, standing on the right, looked at Shiro and spoke, his voice filled with anger.
"Damn it… we shouldn't have left the body here."
The man in the middle, with a thick beard that made him look intimidating, replied with
disdain.
"It's just a kid. No one will care."
Without thinking, Shiro acted on instinct. Adrenaline surged through him, forcing him to
run—to escape the nightmare he had just stumbled upon. The streets turned into a
maze of alleyways, with no clear exit in sight.
He ran desperately, gasping for air as his footsteps echoed through the empty city.
A sudden turn led him into another alley, where he caught sight of one of the men
chasing after him. In a moment of pure impulse, Shiro leapt toward an open window,
thinking of nothing but escape.
He slid into a dark corridor, the sound of his steps echoing against the dirty, cracked
floor. The pressure in his chest grew heavier with every second. Fear had taken
complete control.
Reaching a staircase, he rushed upward, with no other option left. When he arrived at
the second floor, he found himself in a long hallway lined with doors.
Logic told him to hide—to wait until the danger passed. He opened the first door he
found, and what he saw made him stop cold.
Inside, in an almost empty room, a man was chained, his body covered in burns and
bruises, barely recognizable as human.
Shiro took a step forward, then collapsed to the floor, overwhelmed by the sight. Tears
streamed down his face as pain tightened around his chest. He didn't understand what
was happening. He just wanted to go home. He wanted everything to stop.
Before he could think any further, heavy breathing echoed behind him.
Fear turned into pure panic as a rough hand grabbed him tightly.
A violent blow slammed him against the floor, agony tearing through his back.
"Who the hell walks into an alley that smells like death?" a man's voice sneered with
contempt.
Shiro could barely breathe. The pain was unbearable. Fear consumed him completely,
and a single thought crossed his mind.
Am I going to die here?
Agony overwhelmed his body. Why did all of this have to happen? Why him?
Desperation took hold of his heart.
All because of a simple curiosity.
The world felt increasingly cruel and meaningless as his thoughts began to fade.
In the end, as tears fell, his final thought was one he could never fully understand.
This world is cruel…
But then, his thoughts were interrupted by a gentle, distant voice.
"…but it is also so wonderful."