Maerwyn awoke to the sting of cold rain on her face, the wind whipping against her cheek. Around her, the thunder roared, lightning momentarily illuminating the depths of the night, and the terrifying crash of waves echoed from below.
Her last memory was Aldus's betrayal. The king's life wasn't their true mission—it was to end hers.
Maerwyn slowly opened her eyes, but darkness greeted her. She couldn't be sure if she was still alive. The sound of the waves came from below, a signal that she was high up. She tried to move but felt the tight binding of her body. At her feet, a heavy stone was anchored, ready to drag her into the abyss.
She felt the sting of each wound inflicted by Aldus's betrayal. The cuts on her flesh were a reminder of the deeper wounds within—the loss of trust and control over what was happening. But she couldn't dwell on it for long.
In a flash, a shadow approached and without hesitation, pushed the stone. With it, Maerwyn plummeted downwards. The icy blast of wind was the last thing she felt before her body plunged into the frigid water of the ocean.
She struggled, desperately trying to break free, but the weight of the stone dragged her down into the deepening darkness. The water slowly filled her lungs, and her world began to fade.
As she drowned, memories of her childhood returned—a life filled with hunger, pain, and relentless struggle. Reminders of their harsh teachings echoed in her mind: "Mercy is weakness. Help is an illusion. Live alone, or die without value."
From childhood, Maerwyn knew the true meaning of hunger—not just of the stomach, but of hope. With each passing day, her hands, though young, were calloused from tilling the soil, wielding weapons, and fighting for a life that the world constantly snatched away.
She remembered the first time she learned the meaning of endurance. She was beaten by her trainer after trying to help a fellow student who was injured. "Weakness is forbidden," he said, watching her suffer. "Survival isn't a gift. It's something stolen or taken from others."
Despite the pain and the cold that enveloped her, one question echoed repeatedly in her mind: Is this my end?
As Maerwyn's vision blurred, a bitter truth dawned on her: despite all her efforts and struggles, she had become part of the world she despised—a potent instrument of lies, violence, and injustice. In fear of being hurt again, she shunned any possibility of friendship, love, and trust. But now, as the cold water seeped into her lungs and she slowly lost her breath, an inescapable regret sank into her heart: she had never been free.
The world she inhabited had never given her a chance to live with dignity. The strength and skill she thought were her anchors were merely masks, covering her true vulnerability and powerlessness. With every mission she completed, every order she obeyed, she had become a slave to that system—a system that now caused her downfall.
In the last moment of her consciousness, she felt the weight of regret. A promise whispered in her heart, even though she knew it would lead to nothing: If there was a second chance, she wouldn't be part of this lie anymore. She wouldn't let herself be imprisoned by their system again.
But darkness spread quickly, the cold water embraced her, and the memories, along with the last thread of her breath, faded away.
~~~
Jonny turned to his colleagues, who were happily congregating at the edge of the hallway. "Hey, Jonny! Let's drink later! Since it's your day, happy birthday again!" one of them shouted as they walked away. He just nodded slightly, forcing a smile despite the mask covering half his face. The weariness he was trying to hide was still evident in his eyes—eyes that seemed burdened by the weight of daily routine.
Wearing the blue loose pants and white t-shirt familiar to hospital workers, he headed towards the morgue area. There was a new body he needed to take care of. As he approached, the report about the young girl's body—the one who fell from the seventh floor of the school—crossed his mind.
Her body was said to be broken, her arms and legs shattered, her spine almost unrecognizable. An accident, the reports said, but something felt like a lump in his throat whenever he thought about it. She was so young. A life so fresh was abruptly cut short.
Upon reaching the double doors of the morgue, he immediately felt the cold breeze that seemed to suck the warmth from his body. He took a deep breath before pushing the heavy doors open. The smell of antiseptic and a coldness that seemed to emanate from the depths of the earth greeted him.
The room was dark, the only light coming from a flickering bulb hiding in the ceiling. He looked at the clipboard in his hand, trying to avoid the dim gaze at the white sheet covering the body on the table. Another day at work. Another story of a life cut short too soon.
As he turned to face the stainless steel table, the clipboard almost slipped from his trembling hands. His eyes widened, and every fiber of his being seemed to freeze at the sight.
The corpse—the young girl who should have been lying still and lifeless—was standing. Her body was naked, the marks of the terrible accident visible. Her shattered arms and legs were still twisted, but she stood ramrod straight as if an unseen force had deliberately propped her up. Her face was even more terrifying: emotionless, still, but she suddenly tilted her head and stared at him.
A cold breeze pierced his being, colder than the air that enveloped the room. His throat tightened, and his lungs seemed to run out of air. His feet were glued to the floor, unable to move, while his brain begged him to run. But he couldn't think, he couldn't move.
The girl slowly turned, and the sound of her broken bones grinding together pierced the silence of the room. Jonny felt like he was going deaf from the pounding of his own heart—fast, frantic as if it would burst. He stumbled backward, every movement trembling. But as he backed away too forcefully, he tripped and almost fell. When he looked up again, the girl was still there, staring directly at him.
Her eyes were dead, like lifeless glass, but they held something inexplicable—a shadow of anger or hatred that pierced the soul.
"God..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. He searched for the strength to back away further, but his body seemed to have lost control. When the girl took a step towards him, all his thoughts vanished. A scream erupted from his mouth, a scream of desperation and fear he had never felt before.
He lurched back and ran, practically sliding across the floor as he desperately reached for the door. He could hear the sound of her feet dragging behind him, a sound he couldn't bear to look at. His fingers trembled as he searched for the doorknob, and when he opened it, he almost fell out of the room.
He runs for his life. Once he was far away, he leaned against the cold wall, gasping for breath and shivering. He could barely catch his breath as his mind struggled to process what he had seen.
"What happened... God, what was that?" he stammered to himself, cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He was trembling with fear, desperately trying to keep the image of that girl from returning to his mind. But he knew, he would never forget what he had seen in that room.
"Hey! Jonny! What happened to you? You look like you've seen a ghost!" teased one of the nurses, causing the others at the nurse station to laugh. Jonny stood nearby, leaning against the wall, visibly shaken and staying far from the room where he had seen the girl.
He was gasping for breath, his entire body trembling, and even speaking seemed impossible. "The... girl... she... she's... a-alive..." he stammered, his shaky hand pointing toward the direction he had just come from.
The nurses exchanged confused glances. Unable to make sense of what he was saying, they quickly approached him.
"What are you talking about, Jonny?" one of them asked, concern evident in her tone.
Finally, Jonny managed to force the words out, almost shouting as if the words were stuck in his throat. "The girl is alive!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with fear. His outburst startled everyone nearby. Even the doctors and nurses in the vicinity turned to look, curiosity piqued by his declaration.
One of the doctors stepped closer, his expression serious. "What did you just say?" he asked firmly.
Jonny gathered all his strength to speak this time. "The girl who fell from the school... she's alive! Alive and well! I saw her! I saw her with my own two eyes! She stood up! She was staring straight at me, directly into my eyes!"
Every word Jonny uttered was filled with terror. The memory of the incident played vividly in his mind—the sight of the girl, the chilling gaze she gave him, and the unexplainable fear that coursed through his entire being.