Haruki—sat in that black room, feeling like he was slowly unraveling. Time had lost all meaning here. He didn't know how long he'd been trapped in this void. There was no hunger, no thirst, no need for anything. Just the weight of his own thoughts, heavy and oppressive.
He slept. He woke up. He slept again. He woke up again. And then... nothing. The blackness pressed down on him, suffocating in its silence. He thought he might lose his mind, that maybe he already had. That was when he saw her.
His grandmother.
She stood before him, her presence soft and warm, just as she'd always been. Haruki's chest tightened at the sight of her. She had been the only person who ever truly loved him, who accepted him just as he was, no conditions or expectations. She had been the steady light in his chaotic childhood. But she had died too soon, leaving him adrift in a world that was cold and unforgiving.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked them away, trying to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
"It's okay," she said gently, her voice like a balm to his wounded soul.
Haruki broke down. The tears came hard and fast, years of anger, guilt, and regret spilling out of him like a flood. He sobbed uncontrollably, the sound echoing in the vast blackness around him.
She didn't say anything for a while, just stood there, smiling softly, watching him as he cried. It was the same smile she'd always given him when he was a child, that quiet, patient smile that told him everything would be alright, even when it wasn't.
When he finally looked up at her through his tears, she knelt beside him, brushing his hair back from his face like she used to when he was a boy. "You've gone down the wrong path, Haruki," she said softly. "But it's not too late. It's never too late to make things right."
He shook his head, the weight of his failures crushing him. "I don't... I don't know how," he whispered. "I've messed everything up. I've hurt people."
She nodded, her eyes sad but full of love. "I know. But you can still change. You have a second chance."
Haruki stared at her, his chest tightening. "What do you mean?"
Her smile grew, a little sad now. "Exactly what I'm saying. This is your chance to correct your wrongs. To live a life you can be proud of. A life I would be proud of."
Haruki's heart twisted. He wanted to believe her, wanted to cling to the hope she was offering, but it felt too far away, too impossible. "I don't want to go back," he murmured, his voice cracking. "It's too hard. It hurts too much."
She hugged him then, wrapping him in the warmth and comfort he'd been missing for so long. For a moment, everything felt okay again, like it did when he was small, when she was the center of his world and nothing else mattered. He clung to her, wishing he could stay here forever, safe from the mess of his life.
"I just want to stay with you," he whispered. "Please, don't leave me again."
She pulled back, her smile still gentle, but her eyes shimmering with tears. "I can't stay, Haruki. You know that. But I'll always be with you." She pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart. "Right here."
And then, just like that, she was gone.
Haruki felt the emptiness swallow him again, and he cried out, reaching for her. But there was nothing left. Just the cold, vast blackness.
He cried until he couldn't anymore. His body gave in to the exhaustion, and the world around him faded to black once more.
-——————————————————————————————-
When he opened his eyes again, Haruki wasn't in the black room. He wasn't in the white room either. He was in a room—a small, cramped, dingy room. The walls were cracked, the air smelled stale, and the familiar hum of the city buzzed faintly through the window.
He knew this place. The lumpy mattress, the battered old chair in the corner. This was his apartment from years ago, back when he was struggling to make it as an actor. Back before the fame, before the money, before he'd destroyed everything good in his life.
Haruki bolted upright, his heart racing. "Wait, what?"
He staggered to his feet, looking around wildly. The posters on the wall, the overflowing ashtray on the nightstand, the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on the floor. It was all exactly as it had been.
His head spun. "How... how am I here?" He reached up and touched his face, his skin younger, softer than it had been just yesterday—no, years ago.
This can't be real, he thought, but everything felt too vivid, too solid. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled to the window and pulled back the curtain. The city outside looked just as it had back then—gray, bustling, indifferent to his existence.
He was back. He didn't know how or why, but he was back in his old life. Before the roles, before the scandals, before he'd become the man everyone hated.
The weight of it hit him like a freight train. His grandmother's voice echoed in his mind: This is your second and final chance. Live a life you would be proud of.
Haruki sank to his knees, overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.