Chapter 5 Part 1
<47 days of hell>(6)
✧Twisted Reality(1)✧
I knew it was my final breath. My last heartbeat. My one shot.
The trigger felt cold under my finger, the weight of the choice settling over me like a dark fog. Everything narrowed to this one moment, this single word. In a whisper, barely audible even to myself, I muttered:
"Zukræfeil."
✧
The K.E.A. Foundation had been watching. The organization was built to track, contain, or eliminate the inexplicable anomalies rising across the world—though nowhere more so than in Japan. The supernatural disturbances there had grown too powerful to ignore.
They took measures. They hunted down every trace, neutralizing entities with precision. Slowly, they brought silence back to the places once filled with strange whispers and lurking shadows.
But one anomaly persisted.
Through satellite surveillance, the Foundation identified the last disturbance: an orphanage hidden deep within Japan, emanating an unnatural, pulsing storm of electromagnetic energy. Distortions in time and space were recorded, the readings off the charts, spiraling into unknown territory.
They named it Keter.
Classified as a "Claustrophobic-Class Anomaly," Keter was unlike any other. Satellite data showed subtle yet terrifying shifts—gravity bending, temperature plummeting, matter warping. The calculations suggested one thing: Keter had the properties of a black hole.
But this wasn't just any black hole. It was a Settler Black Hole,the kind that moved with deliberate, predatory purpose, warping everything in its path.
The Foundation evaluated six countermeasures. Each failed. The last possibility, the final, unthinkable option, remained.
The countdown began.
December 25ᵗʰ, 7:00 PM.
On Christmas Day, the Foundation would unleash a Tsar Bomba on Japan, a blast powerful enough to annihilate Keter along with Japan itself.
✧
[Day 46ᵗʰ]
The morning felt as though it had frozen over. I lay there on the narrow cot, watching my breath mist above me in small clouds that hung in the frigid air. The cabin was steeped in silence, each creak of wood and whistle of wind creeping through the cracks, pressing a raw chill against my skin. There was no warmth here, only a quiet, bitter reminder: two days left.I sat up, letting my gaze wander. Magnolia was at the frost-rimmed window, her sharp yellow eyes fixed on the storm outside. Alexei perched on a crate by the wall, his hands lightly resting on his photon gun. Ji-hyeon stood near the door, arms crossed, her expression as guarded as ever. And then there was Astrid, lounging back in his chair like we were somewhere warm and safe, as though the storm outside was nothing more than a light flurry.
"Blizzard's gotten worse," Magnolia murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind that shook the glass. Snow hurled itself against the cabin walls, the world outside blanketed in white, thick and unyielding. Visibility had dropped to nearly nothing.
"Guess we're not going anywhere," Alexei grunted, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. "I'm not about to get lost in that mess."
Ji-hyeon didn't respond, only gave a curt nod, her dark eyes drifting back to the door. "Not worth the risk," she said quietly, though there was an edge of frustration in her voice. "Keter could be waiting for us out there."
"Look on the bright side," Astrid piped up, his usual smirk firmly in place. "Now's as good a time as any for a quick lesson." He lifted his photon gun, the sleek blue-outlined pistol resting easily in his hand. "If you're going to use these, best you understand what you're holding."
I watched him spin the weapon between his fingers, his expression unusually serious. "These photon guns aren't your standard weapons. Each one's powered by a photon sphere—a reactor that basically creates star-like light. That's what gives the guns their punch."
I frowned, eyeing the faintly glowing sphere set within the metal. The light inside pulsed, faint but intense, like something barely contained. The weight of the gun felt different from any other weapon I'd held, humming with a strange energy, like it could barely hold back the force trapped within.
"When you pull the trigger," Astrid continued, "the sphere generates a photon pulse. A single, focused blast of light, hot enough to cut through metal. That's why it can resist Keter's gravity field, at least for a moment. But…" he paused, a faint glint of something serious in his eyes, "these guns aren't built for endurance. Every shot drains a big chunk of the sphere's energy. Fire it four or five times, and the core burns out. The gun'll be useless."
I felt the weight of that warning settle over us, like another layer of cold. Limited shots. Limited power. I ran my thumb over the smooth, white outline on my own weapon, feeling the cold, unyielding metal press against my hand. Four shots. Maybe five.
Magnolia glanced down at her green-lined gun, her face tight with worry. "So, if we miss…"
Astrid's smirk returned, but it was sharp and devoid of humor. "Then it's game over. You miss, you're done. So, when you see Keter, don't hesitate—don't even think. Just aim, and fire."
He held up his own gun, the blue glow casting a cold light over his face. It was clear he meant every word. Each one of us turned our gaze down to our weapons, hands curling around the grip as though by holding them, we could somehow understand them better. But I couldn't shake the unease gnawing at me. These guns… they felt like a gamble, a tool given to us as if they'd make a difference, yet they felt no more substantial than the falling snow outside.
I glanced at the others, at their faces, each of them trying to mask the weight of doubt under expressions of determination. Ji-hyeon's fingers were tight around her weapon; she stared at it with a focus I'd rarely seen from her. Alexei's jaw was clenched, his face drawn and unreadable. Magnolia, usually a burst of confidence, looked pensive, her gaze distant. Only Astrid seemed unfazed, still wearing that faint smile, like he saw something the rest of us couldn't.
Finally, I broke the silence. "So what's the plan, then? Just sit here until the blizzard clears?"
"Unless you'd rather wander around out there?" Astrid shot back, that smirk turning into a grin. "We'll sit tight, wait for a break in the storm, then move out. Keter isn't going anywhere."
His nonchalance grated on me, but I said nothing, merely nodded. The wind howled outside, a sound that seemed to crawl inside my skull, echoing the hollow sense of unease that settled over us all. We sat in a tense silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts, our own doubts. The storm continued to rage, as if mocking our plans, trapping us in this frozen wasteland.
As I sat there, I caught myself glancing out the window, the snow blurring the world beyond into a white, swirling void. It felt as though something was moving out there, something hidden just beyond the edge of vision. I found myself wondering if Keter could see us, if it knew we were here, waiting for it. If it was, in fact, waiting for us.
I barely noticed Alexei shifting beside me until he spoke, his voice low. "Hoshino, something wrong?"
The question startled me out of my thoughts. I looked at him, at his searching expression, then back to the window. The blizzard continued to rage, thick and endless. I didn't have an answer for him, not one that would make sense. I shook my head slowly, my voice a soft murmur that even I barely believed.
"Nothing. Just… nothing."
Alexei's gaze lingered on me a moment longer, and then he looked away, nodding to himself. I could feel the others glancing at me, each of them trying to read my face, but I kept it blank, kept my own doubts buried beneath layers of calm.
The storm showed no sign of letting up, the world outside a frozen expanse of white, stretching into a silent, unforgiving unknown. And as they watched me, I turned my gaze back to the window, my expression unreadable, as if I were staring straight into the heart of the blizzard—waiting.
✧
Middle school was an assault on my senses, every day a tangled mess of emotions I couldn't quite control. It started with the stares, the constant, suffocating attention that came from being "different." My white hair, my red eyes—they were like a spotlight that I couldn't turn off, a beacon drawing everyone's curiosity, judgment, or worse, disdain. I felt exposed, like an exhibit in a zoo. At first, I hated it. Their words stung, their whispers burrowing deep under my skin: *Freak. Albino. Ghost.* I felt like every step I took was watched, evaluated, and then dismissed.
The girls were the worst. At first, they approached me with curiosity, some kind of giddy excitement about the "mysterious boy." They'd ask me endless questions, their voices high and sweet, trying to dig out details about my life, my likes, my past. But even back then, I could sense something hollow in their interest. They liked the image of me, not the reality. I tried to answer them politely, hoping it would make them lose interest faster. But they kept coming back, demanding more. Eventually, I started pushing them away with blunt words, letting my irritation show.
That's when the fascination turned into ridicule. Girls who'd once been so interested in me started rolling their eyes, sneering when they saw me. The boys followed suit, tripping me in the hallways, calling me names, finding every opportunity to make me feel like I didn't belong. I was furious, but more than that, I was hurt. The laughter, the whispers—they cut deeper than I wanted to admit, and for a long time, I tried to hide how much it got to me. I felt like I was slowly being chipped away, little pieces of myself breaking off each day.
Teachers tried to help, though it was useless. They'd call me in, their faces full of concern, asking if I was alright, if I wanted to talk. I remember one teacher in particular—a woman with soft eyes who looked at me like I was something fragile. She'd ask gentle questions, trying to get me to open up, but I never could. I felt stupid for feeling anything, stupid for letting their words affect me, so I'd just smile and tell her I was fine, trying to convince myself it was true.
At home, I was just as isolated. My "mom" and "dad" were kind enough, I suppose, but they felt like strangers, distant figures who floated in and out of my life. They'd ask me about school in passing, their questions surface-level, never probing too deep. I'd lie, of course, saying things were great, that I was making friends. I didn't want to worry them, or maybe I just didn't want to explain. My "brother" and "sister" were friendly, but there was a gap between us that I couldn't cross. I was alone in a house full of people, and it only amplified the emptiness I felt.
In those years, books became my refuge. I found comfort in light novels that transported me to other worlds, places where people fought monsters, fell in love, or faced unimaginable odds. I devoured stories like *Dreams of the Forgotten City*, where the protagonist wandered an abandoned city, desperately searching for something he couldn't name. I related to him, to the loneliness he carried. Or *The Last Light of a Dying Star*, a story about a girl who created stars only to watch them fade, one by one. Those characters felt like kindred spirits, people lost in their own worlds, trying to find meaning in emptiness.
By the end of middle school, something inside me had started to shift. The bullying eventually stopped, maybe because they lost interest, or maybe because they sensed that I'd stopped caring. But by that point, I felt hollow, like a part of me had been worn down to nothing. The pain I'd once felt had faded, replaced by something colder, emptier.
When high school started, I was a different person—or maybe just a shell of who I used to be. The anger, the hurt, even the hope that things might get better—all of it was gone. I still went through the motions, still smiled when I was supposed to, still answered questions, but it was like I was on autopilot, a mask I'd perfected.
People approached sometimes, of course. They'd see me sitting alone, head in a book, and they'd take it as an invitation. I'd learned how to play my part by then, how to keep people at arm's length without pushing them away outright. I'd smile, make polite conversation, give playful, half-sincere answers that kept them entertained without actually giving anything away.
One guy in particular, Takumi, seemed determined to crack my facade. He sat next to me in class one day, his eyes bright with curiosity, like he thought he'd found a hidden treasure.
"Hey, Hoshino. You don't talk much, do you?" he asked, his voice casual, a grin tugging at his lips.
I looked at him, my face carefully blank, and then gave a small smile, the kind that didn't reach my eyes. "Talking's overrated," I replied, letting a hint of humor slip into my voice.
Takumi chuckled, clearly thinking I was just shy or mysterious. "Oh, come on, you don't have any interesting secrets?" he pressed, leaning in slightly.
"Plenty," I said, tilting my head. "But where's the fun in just telling them?" My tone was playful, almost teasing, as if I were letting him in on some inside joke. But inside, there was nothing—just a quiet, yawning emptiness.
He laughed, and for a while, he kept trying to strike up conversations, thinking he was making progress. I'd keep the mask on, giving vague answers, playfully dodging his questions. But eventually, he realized there was nothing behind my words, nothing real to connect to, and he drifted away, like they all did.
Even the teachers noticed, or at least pretended to. One of them called me in after class, her voice careful, as if she were trying not to startle me. She talked about participation, about how I should "get involved," make friends, all the usual high school platitudes. I watched her with a faint smile, nodding along, but it was like listening to a conversation through glass. Her words felt distant, meaningless.
After a while, she paused, clearly waiting for me to respond. I looked at her, my expression playful, curious, and asked, "Why?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "Why… what?"
"Why should I?" I said, letting my voice dip into something almost mockingly sweet. "High school's just a formality, right?"
She looked at me, speechless, trying to find some way to reach me, but there was nothing left to reach. I'd shut that part of myself away long ago, buried it under layers of practiced indifference. After a few moments, she let me go, her face pale, her expression defeated.
Books were my only escape, the only thing that filled the silence inside me. I read obsessively, diving into stories that were as bleak and broken as I felt. *Dreams of the Forgotten City* and *The Last Light of a Dying Star* became my closest companions, their worlds echoing the hollow, abandoned feeling that had taken root inside me. In those pages, I found characters who wandered alone, who carried their emptiness with them like a badge. They felt real in a way that nothing else did.
Each day passed like this, one after another, identical in their emptiness. People drifted in and out of my life, trying to reach me, to crack the mask I wore, but they never got far. I'd learned to give them just enough to keep them interested, but not enough to let them in. Eventually, they all gave up, leaving me alone again, exactly the way I preferred it.
The school day drifted by in the usual blur—lessons I half-listened to, snippets of conversations I didn't feel part of. I kept my head down, quiet and detached, content to watch the other students as they went about their day. They all seemed so full of life, sharing jokes, stories, plans for the weekend, and somehow, it all felt like it was happening at a distance from me.
When the final bell rang, I was the first to leave, hoping to disappear into the crowd. But as I passed through the school gates, my homeroom teacher called my name, her tone uncharacteristically soft. I turned, caught off guard by the look of concern on her face.
"Could we talk for a moment, Hoshino?" she asked, gesturing towards the teacher's lounge.
Reluctantly, I followed her. In the quiet of the lounge, she gestured for me to take a seat, and I did, carefully folding my hands in my lap.
"I've noticed…" she began, choosing her words carefully, "that you seem a little distant lately. Is everything alright?"
I glanced at her, then away. "Yes, everything's fine," I replied, my voice calm. "Just the usual… school and homework, you know."
She didn't seem convinced, leaning forward slightly as if to study me. "You don't have to keep everything to yourself, you know. If something's bothering you, I'm here to listen."
I thought about what she'd said, about whether it mattered if I opened up, and quickly decided it didn't. "Thank you," I replied politely. "But really, there's nothing wrong."
She looked at me a little longer, her eyes searching my face for something I wasn't quite sure of. But after a moment, she just nodded, offering a small, uncertain smile.
"Alright," she said. "But if you ever want to talk, remember I'm here."
I nodded, standing up and bowing. "Thank you. I'll remember that."
I left the lounge, walking down the now-empty hallways. The building was silent, the echoes of my footsteps the only sound as I made my way outside. I stepped out into the evening, where the sun was setting low in the sky, casting a soft, golden glow over everything.
At home, the house was quiet, as always. My "mom" and "dad" were out working, and my "brother" and "sister" wouldn't be back until late. I went upstairs, dropped my bag on the floor, and lay down on my bed. I closed my eyes, letting the silence wash over me.
In that silence, my mind wandered back to the novel I'd been reading, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Clock. I opened the book, letting myself get lost in its pages. The protagonist, now trapped as a clock, could only observe the people around him, ticking away the seconds as their lives moved forward. Strange as it was, I found a kind of comfort in that story, as if watching everything happen from a distance could somehow make things easier to understand.
The hours slipped by unnoticed, and soon, it was midnight. I put the book down, and sleep crept in, pulling me under in a slow, dreamless descent.
-
The next day, I moved through classes as usual, focused on my work while the rest of the room buzzed with chatter. At lunch, the teacher stopped by again. She didn't say much—just asked how I was doing, her voice soft and patient.
"Thanks for asking, but I'm alright," I replied.
She nodded, though the concern in her expression didn't fade. "Alright, Hoshino. But if anything changes, I'm here, okay?"
I nodded, keeping my gaze on my desk, waiting for her to walk away before going back to my lunch.
As the afternoon went on, I felt a strange sensation prickling at the back of my mind. It was faint, like the memory of something just beyond reach, and I shook my head, trying to brush it off.
But the feeling only grew stronger as the day went on, a chill that crept up my spine. By the time I was halfway home, it was impossible to ignore—a sensation so vivid that it felt as if I were seeing two things at once.
I blinked, rubbing my eye, and there it was—a flash of something else, something entirely different from the world around me.
I saw a dimly lit room, its walls seeming to absorb every sliver of light. Outside, a frost-covered window revealed a blizzard, snow falling silently and painting the world in stark white. The room felt cold, lifeless, and there were two men and two women present. I could see the snowstorm raging outside, but only through my right eye.
I blinked, and the view vanished, leaving me perplexed. I dismissed it as mere hallucinations—after all, I had been sleep-deprived for days.
I continued my walk home, finally arriving and greeting "Mom" before heading to my room. Yet, an odd sensation washed over me, as if my central nervous system wasn't functioning properly. Ignoring that disquieting feeling, I made my way to the bathroom to wash my drowsy face.
What stared back at me in the mirror should have been my normal face. However, it wasn't. My red eyes—specifically my right eye—fluctuated between hues of blue and yellow. Suddenly, blood dripped from it, and the view shifted again to the old wooden cabin where the blizzard continued to rage outside. Strangely, through my left eye, I could still see the sink, while my right showed the cabin and its four occupants.
✧
I sat in a chair, contemplating how I might fight this impending despair when a sharp pain shot through my left eye.
"Hey, kid, what's wrong? Feeling scared?" Astrid asked, his tone playful.
"I'm fine. Just need some sleep," I replied nonchalantly.
"Then you better not slack off in the fight," Ji-hyeon said coldly.
"Hey, cut him some slack. Go on, Hoshino, you should rest," Alexei added with a concerned look.
"No, I'll just wash my face."
"If you're okay with that," Alexei said, still watching me closely.
"Hmn."
I stood up from the chair and walked toward the washroom. Arriving at the sink, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My red irises had lost their glow long ago, dulled from the hellish loops I had endured. I tried to smile, but the reflection showed a grin that carried nothing but despair.
I turned on the faucet, and as the water started to flow, I felt a sudden lurch in my throat.
"Keugh!"
I coughed up blood. Normally, I would have been surprised, but after dying countless times, my own blood barely fazed me. A normal person would have been shocked, but that thought barely registered anymore.
Then, unexpectedly, my left eye began to bleed as well.
"That's new?" I murmured, confusion flooding my mind.
An inexplicable pain shot through my left eye, as if my brain were about to explode. My dark red iris shifted to a hue of blue and yellow, and the view on my left changed. The mirror reflected my own face, but now my right eye was tinged with that same blue and yellow.
"Huh?"
Even the loops couldn't match this absurdity.
The Last void couldn't even compare to this scenario.
Thirty hour remains until half of Japan gets turned to dust.
✧
The empty night sky mirrors my heart,
A vast expanse, dark and void,
Just like my mind, where shadows dwell,
Where nothing makes sense, and nothing matters anymore.
Like a lone star flickering in the abyss,
I dream of one day shining,
Yet I know it won't be my light that gleams,
But others, bright and radiant, while I fade away.
I'll become just a whisper in the wind,
A forgotten echo in the grand symphony of existence,
No matter how I strive or fight,
Everything is but a fleeting daydream,
A fleeting breath in the silence of the cosmos.
As I drift through this endless night,
I yearn for meaning, for connection,
But find only the chill of solitude,
The weight of a heart burdened by unfulfilled hopes.
In this desolate expanse, I search for solace,
For a flicker of warmth amid the cold,
But the stars above shine indifferently,
Reflecting my despair back at me,
A reminder of how far I've fallen.
So I linger here, in this empty darkness,
A ghost of what I could have been,
Watching the world with hollow eyes,
Longing for a light that feels forever out of reach.