The city of Shinjuku is alive under a beautiful sun, a rare warmth brushing the streets. The air carries the scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the soft chirping of birds perched in the trees. Laughter drifts through the neighborhood, a distant reminder of the simple joys of life. The streets are alive with people, the sound of footsteps echoing as people pass by, strolling down the pavement, some chatting, some walking their dogs, the gentle rhythm of their lives in contrast to the chaos lurking within Zayne's own world.
The camera shifts, focusing on a house nestled in the heart of the neighborhood, ordinary at a glance, but bearing the weight of something much darker within.
Inside, Zayne sung Voss awakens to the same life he's despised for two years now.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. The alarm blares through the room, an unrelenting screech that gnaws at his consciousness. He groggily rolls over in bed, the blanket tangling around his legs as he fumbles for his phone. His fingers swipe across the screen, and he squints at the time—4:35 PM.
"Looks like I slept in again…" he mutters under his breath, the words a dull echo of the disappointment that always follows these moments. With a sigh, Zayne slowly rolls out of bed, his body heavy with the weight of inertia, like he's been carrying a burden for far longer than he should.
The floor creaks beneath him as he drags himself toward the bathroom, each step a reminder of his exhaustion. His hand lands on the doorframe, bracing himself as he shuffles inside. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a sterile, unfeeling glow. He stares into the mirror, the reflection staring back at him as though it doesn't belong.
His skin is pale, almost translucent, a dullness to it that hasn't faded even with the dim light of the bathroom. Years of emotional strain have stolen his vitality, leaving him physically drained, like a shell of who he once was. The weariness in his eyes is unmistakable—dull, lifeless, a stark contrast to the spark he once had. Dark circles rest beneath his eyes, his reflection a reminder of the endless nights spent lying awake, tangled in his own mind.
"Damn, it's like every day I look worse," he mutters to himself, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, feeling the chill seep into his skin. "Is it even worth trying anymore? It's not like I'm needed in this world anyways…"
Zayne's breath is shallow, as though the air itself has become too thick to breathe. His thoughts are like chains that tighten around his chest with each passing second. The weight of it all presses him down, and the bathroom feels suffocating, as if it's a trap he can't escape.
His mother's voice floats up from downstairs, a sweet, soft sound in the otherwise heavy air, pulling him away from the mirror and the spiral of his thoughts.
"Zaynnnnneeee! Can you go to the store for me and bring me a turkey? It's nearly Thanksgiving~"
Her voice, always warm and nurturing, feels like a distant memory to him. He stands up straight, the emotional weight lifting slightly at the sound of her words. He trudges back to his room, his feet dragging against the carpet as though even the simplest tasks are mountains to climb.
His tracksuit is lying on the bed, the deep, rich purple calling to him. It's the one piece of clothing that feels somewhat comfortable, like it belongs to him, even though everything else about him feels out of place. The jacket, soft matte with black accents along the sides and shoulders, has a sleek, sporty elegance. The high collar offers a slight edge, a modern touch to an otherwise simple design. The zipper—black with a silver pull tab shaped like a small wing—shimmers faintly as he slips the jacket on. The black pants, with purple side panels that gradually fade from a deep violet to a lighter shade, offer a subtle contrast to the richness of the jacket, tapering neatly at the ankle with a slight zipper for a more fitted look.
Zayne's hands are trembling slightly as he pulls the pants on, the elastic waistband offering a comfort that feels fleeting. He tugs at the drawstring and pulls the pants a little higher, his mind still clouded, his movements slow, almost mechanical. The tracksuit, though it fits perfectly, offers no comfort beyond the physical. It's just another reminder that even his appearances have become routine—empty.
With a sigh, he heads toward the door, each step weighed down by thoughts he can't escape, but the faintest flicker of his mother's cheerfulness lingers, like a tiny thread of hope.
Outside, the sun casts a warm, gentle glow over the world, a stark contrast to the darkness in his heart. The laughter and bustle of the world continue around him, unaware of the storm inside him. Zayne steps out the door, his thoughts lost in the rhythm of his footsteps, wondering if he'll ever escape the weight of his own soul.
Zayne descended the stairs, his footsteps heavy, the sound of each step echoing in the otherwise quiet house. As he entered the kitchen, the familiar sight of his mother greeted him. Her red hair cascaded in waves down her back, and her bright green eyes sparkled with warmth. The soft, comforting light of the kitchen seemed to highlight her presence, as if the room itself was drawn to her gentle energy. She stood there with a radiant smile on her face, her features soft and welcoming, as they always were. Zayne's heart ached, a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He watched her, feeling a deep sting in his heart at how effortlessly happy she was. Meanwhile, he felt like he was sinking deeper into himself, weighed down by an unshakable sadness.
I couldn't help but stare at her smile, the kind of smile that could light up even the darkest days. It was so… genuine. I envied it. "Geez, Mom, you always have such a cheerful and bright smile on your face. It always brightens up my day," I said, my voice almost hollow as I reached out to gently pet her on the head, a small attempt to return her warmth.
Her smile widened as she leaned into my touch, her head tilting slightly, a soft purr-like hum escaping her. She always acted like this—affectionate and nurturing, like a cat seeking attention. It was a comfort, a constant. Yet, I couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at me. "It's a mother's duty to keep her son happy," she replied, her voice light and playful, full of love.
Her words hit harder than I expected, twisting something deep inside me. I wanted to believe that happiness was something she could simply give, but it didn't feel that simple anymore. Not for me.
Zayne stepped out of the house, the world outside an unforgiving assault on his senses. The sun burned into his eyes like a cruel reminder of how bright things used to be, forcing him to shield his face with a trembling hand. His disheveled brown hair caught the breeze, brushing against his forehead in a way that only served to irritate him further. With a defeated sigh, he raked his fingers through it, though it did little to tame the mess. Stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his worn jeans, he set off on his errand—a meaningless task to retrieve a turkey for dinner.
His walk was sluggish, his body slumped forward as though an invisible weight bore down on his shoulders. Each step seemed to drag, his legs moving mechanically, his gaze locked on the cracked pavement beneath him. He didn't bother to look ahead; what was the point? It all looked the same—empty and cold. The summer air was warm, yet to Zayne, it felt suffocating, like a heavy blanket pressing down on his chest.
"What the hell is the point of this?" I thought bitterly, my inner voice sounding as hollow as I felt. "Everything feels like it's stuck on an endless loop. Day in, day out… the same thing, over and over and over." My thoughts spiraled, each repetition clawing at my sanity.
My voice faltered in my mind, trailing off into silence. My vision blurred as I blinked back the sting of unshed tears, though the world itself already seemed blurred—a shadow of its former vibrancy. Colors looked muted, washed-out, the brightness of the day dulled by the gray haze of my thoughts.
I glanced up briefly and saw people in the park, laughing, enjoying the sunshine, their carefree energy twisting a knife into my chest. It was as if their happiness mocked me, their laughter a distant echo I couldn't touch. I swallowed hard, looking away again. The sun was warm, the day was beautiful, but none of it mattered. None of it reached me.
Zayne's steps carried him closer to the store, though he didn't register the distance he'd covered. His head remained low, his shoulders hunched, his mind lost in the dark abyss of his thoughts. He reached the curb, the sound of passing cars faint and faraway, as if he were submerged underwater.
He stepped forward without thinking, not bothering to look either way.
And then—
BAM!
The roar of the semi-truck's horn was deafening, but it was too late. The metal beast barreled into Zayne with a sickening force, his body sent flying like a ragdoll through the air. For a brief, surreal moment, he felt weightless, his mind eerily quiet as he soared 25 feet above the ground.
When he landed, the world fell into an awful, ringing silence. Blood began to pool beneath him, staining the asphalt, the once-vibrant sunlight reflecting off the spreading crimson. Zayne lay motionless, his breath shallow, his vision dimming.
The irony wasn't lost on him. For all the weight he carried, he finally felt… light.
"This… this is it," I thought, as a weak, bitter laugh rasped from my blood-filled throat. My body lay broken, crumpled like discarded paper on the cold pavement. Every nerve screamed in agony, yet somehow, a warped sense of peace washed over me. "This is what I wished for… to escape… to finally leave this damned world behind."
A metallic tang filled my mouth as blood bubbled past my lips. My breaths came in shallow gasps, and my chest heaved as if the weight of my regret were pinning me down. "I'm gonna… die… finally~" My voice cracked, a fractured whisper of relief and despair entwined. A faint, delirious smile tugged at my face, even as the corners of my vision dimmed.
And then came the darkness.
An endless void swallowed me whole—its depth immeasurable, its silence deafening. Darkness.
Cold, suffocating, unyielding. Darkness.
It dragged on like an eternity, stretching time into something immeasurable. Darkness.
No thoughts. No feelings. Just a formless abyss, devouring all that I was, all that I could have been. Darkness…
And then—
Zayne's eyes snapped open, his chest jerking as if he'd just surfaced from drowning. His lungs sucked in air like it was a foreign substance, his body trembling as life clawed its way back into his veins. The darkness receded, replaced by a dim, eerie glow that painted his surroundings in shades of twilight. Slowly, cautiously, he rubbed his eyes, his fingers brushing against skin still sticky with dried blood. His breath hitched. I shouldn't be alive.
As his vision cleared, Zayne found himself beneath a vast, oppressive sky, locked in an eternal twilight. The horizon shimmered with unnatural colors—violets and blacks bleeding into one another like spilled ink, creating a sight both mesmerizing and menacing. There was no sun, no stars, no moon to offer comfort—only a faint, otherworldly glow that seemed to emanate from the very air itself. It pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.
Zayne blinked again, his heart racing as the realization set in. "Where the hell…" he murmured, his voice barely audible against the eerie silence. The oppressive atmosphere of the sky above mirrored the landscape below: sprawling gothic towers rose into the dim ether, their spires twisting like serpents reaching for an unattainable freedom. Intricate carvings of snakes coiled around the darkened walls, their unblinking stone eyes watching him, judging him. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and decay, tinged with something electric, magical.
He took a hesitant step forward, and his gaze fell on the bustling streets. But it wasn't just people walking among the towering architecture—it was creatures. Demi-humans with feline ears and sharp, glimmering eyes. Elves whose ethereal beauty seemed untouched by the oppressive sky. Hulking orcs bartering with merchants, their voices gruff but not unkind. Even serpentine beings slithered gracefully among them, their scales glinting faintly in the twilight.
Zayne's heart pounded. It was a world straight out of fantasy—one he had dreamed of as a child, only now it stood before him in grotesque, beautiful clarity. He turned his gaze upward and caught sight of the city's crowning jewel: a sprawling kingdom atop a jagged cliff. Its gothic architecture loomed like a shadow over the city, its grandeur unmistakable even from this distance. The spires pierced the oppressive sky as if defying its weight, yet the city exuded an aura of serenity.
The people were smiling. Laughing. Somehow, in this twilight-drenched world of shadows and serpents, they had found happiness. The sight was alien to him—a sharp contrast to the aching despair that still clung to his bones.
I looked down at my trembling hands, gasping for air as my chest tightened. My fingers flexed against my will, desperate to grasp something solid, something real. "What the hell…" I whispered, my voice trembling as the events before this moment crashed over me like a tidal wave. Blood. Pain. The fleeting relief of surrender.
My death.
The memory hit like a knife to the gut. I could still feel the truck's impact, the sickening crunch of bone, the rush of blood pooling beneath me. My heart seized in my chest. "I thought…" My voice faltered, the words refusing to leave my dry throat. "I thought I died…"
I gripped my shirt, as if the pressure could steady the storm raging inside me. "What the hell is this?" I looked around again, my vision darting from the strange creatures to the looming spires. This wasn't Earth. This wasn't hell. This wasn't… anything I could comprehend.
Tears welled up in my eyes as the crushing realization hit me. "Oh my god… Mom…" My voice trembled, barely more than a whisper. "I left her… I left her all alone…" The weight of my thoughts pressed down on me like a vice. "No, no, no, no, no!" My chest heaved as panic clawed its way through me, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"Dad's already gone… and now me too?!" My breath hitched, and I gripped my head, nails digging into my scalp as the tears turned into streams, hot and unrelenting. "No… no, she needs me! She needs me!" My voice cracked, raw and broken.
"Mom… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to leave you… Mom… MOM!" I cried out, over and over, as if saying her name could somehow reach her, as if it could undo the impossible distance now separating us. My body trembled violently, tears dripping into the dirt beneath me. I felt hollow, torn apart, my chest aching with a grief that wouldn't stop growing.
She was my safe place, my anchor in the storm. And now I was gone. Gone forever.
As Zayne spiraled deeper into his mental breakdown, the weight of everything crashing over him, a sudden jolt interrupted his spiraling thoughts. A soft collision, like a fleeting breeze, and then the sound of a surprised voice.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The voice cut through the haze in his mind, and he looked up, barely able to focus through the blur of tears.
The girl standing before him was striking. She was petite, her fiery crimson eyes sharp with an intensity that contrasted with her youthful features. Her short, spiky hair was streaked with golden highlights that shimmered like sparks in a fire, giving her an almost ethereal aura. She wore a mage's outfit that was both functional and bold—a black-and-red cloak with glowing rune patterns that seemed to pulse with energy, a bandolier of decorative grenades slung across her chest (though purely for show, their symbolism far more than practicality). Her fingerless gloves shimmered faintly as if they enhanced the flow of magic, and the sturdy boots she wore hinted at the heavy recoil of her self-made explosions.
Zayne barely registered it all; his vision blurred, his thoughts clouded. But her presence… it cut through the noise, despite how muffled his world felt.
"I didn't mean to bump into you, wait a minute…" The girl's voice softened, her gaze locking onto his, studying him with an almost clinical curiosity. "You look like you're about to have a breakdown… What's the matter?"
She tilted her head, concern marking her expression, but all Zayne could do was crumble. His body trembled, the dam of his emotions finally breaking. His arms reached out without thinking, clutching desperately at her waist, pulling her closer as his tears soaked into the fabric of her cloak. He buried his face into her abdomen, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to contain the tidal wave of grief and helplessness that had consumed him.
In that moment, it wasn't just her physical presence that comforted him—it was the strange, inexplicable relief of finally not being alone.