Seok-Hyun's PoV:
I stood on the bridge, the cold wind biting at my skin, my heart thudding in my chest.
"I hope death isn't so painful," I muttered, peering over the edge.
The sight below stole my breath. The drop stretched endlessly, the abyss below swallowing all light. My hands gripped the rail tightly, palms slick with sweat.
I stared down, then back up. Down again. My knees locked, and my pulse quickened.
Cowardice, I thought bitterly. I couldn't even do this.
With a shaky breath, I stepped back from the edge, my legs trembling. But as I turned, the world shifted.
The wind stopped. The sound of distant traffic faded.
I was no longer on the bridge.
Instead, I stood in a vast, empty void—a darkness so complete it felt like the universe had been erased.
For a moment, I thought I had succeeded.
"So this is death," I murmured, a hollow laugh escaping my lips.
If I'd known it was this smooth, I would've done it a long time ago.
When my wife cheated on me.
When my best friend—no, my former best friend—took her and my company in one fell swoop.
When my father turned his back on me, denying the support I desperately needed after losing everything.
I laughed again, the sound echoing into the emptiness. It wasn't joy, nor sorrow. Just... emptiness.
No tears came. I had none left to give.
Then a voice, low and resonant, pierced the silence.
"If you want death, I'll show you what death truly feels like."
Before I could process the words, pain unlike anything I'd ever known tore through me. It defied description—a raw, searing agony that stripped away every thought, every breath, every semblance of self.
I fell to my knees, gasping for air, though there was none. My body, my mind, my soul—all of it shattered, pulled apart and reassembled in an endless cycle.
I don't want to die.
The realization hit me with terrifying clarity.
I don't want to die.
Not like this. Not again.
The pain stopped as abruptly as it began, leaving me heaving on the non-existent ground.
The voice returned, calm and cold.
"Now that you understand, here's a stick. Make do with it and survive my labyrinth."
A simple wooden stick appeared before me, its surface rough against my trembling hands.
The void shifted, replaced by towering walls of stone and shadow. A low, guttural growl echoed from the depths, and I knew—this wasn't over.
I tightened my grip on the stick, my body still trembling but my mind clear.
Death was a scary thing , I don't plan on experiencing it again.
***
Lira's PoV:
The early morning mist still lingered when Kira woke me, his excitement practically radiating off him. I had barely opened my eyes when he tugged at my arm, his eager grin impossible to ignore.
"Come on, Lira! You promised!" he said, his voice a mix of impatience and determination.
I sighed, sitting up and stretching. "Alright, alright. Let me get ready."
Truthfully, I wasn't thrilled about teaching a child how to fight. It felt like I was setting him on a dangerous path—a path I knew all too well. One paved with blood, loss, and pain.
But I wanted to believe in Kira. Believe that his reasoning was sound, that his determination was rooted in something pure.
He's strong, I told myself. Stronger than I give him credit for.
Grabbing a sturdy stick to serve as a training weapon, I led him to the open area near Maeve's place. All my earnings went to Maeve's pocket, so I figured she wouldn't mind me using the space.
"I'm not teaching you how to wield a sword just yet," I told him, watching his eyes widen with curiosity. "First, we strengthen your body. Without a strong foundation, all the technique in the world is useless."
As I spoke, I couldn't help but smile at the memory of my own training—the grueling, barbaric exercises that had nearly broken me in the labyrinth. Of course, I wouldn't push Kira that hard. I wasn't trying to kill him.
He grinned up at me, completely unaware of what lay ahead.
***
Maeve's PoV:
The sun had barely risen when I stepped outside to grab some vegetables from the garden. The crisp morning air was refreshing, and I was already thinking about what to prepare for lunch.
But the sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks.
Lira, the quiet, reserved girl I'd taken in, was standing in the open field, shouting at Kira with an intensity I didn't think she possessed.
"Kira! Back straight! Focus!" she barked, her voice sharp and commanding.
"Yes, ma'am!" Kira yelled back, his small frame trembling with effort but his voice resolute.
Lily sat nearby, clapping her hands enthusiastically every time her brother responded. Her giggles filled the air, her joy a stark contrast to the seriousness of the scene.
I couldn't help but smile at the peculiar sight. Lira, who had always seemed so composed and gentle, was now a drill sergeant. And Kira, who usually had a mischievous streak, looked absolutely determined to follow her every word.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the garden. Whatever they were doing, it seemed to be working for them.
"Let's get these veggies," I murmured to myself with a chuckle. "Lunch won't prepare itself."
***
Kailus's PoV:
Seok-Hyun.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Not in this iteration, not in this role. He was a fragment of a soul, a being who entered the labyrinth after Lira.
But I am not a god without purpose—or whimsy.
I rewrote his existence, reshaped the very fabric of what they know. The dangerous forest that swallowed humans whole, leaving no trace of their existence, now had a protector. A guardian.
Seok-Hyun.
The people of the town revered him now. Memories that never existed were etched into their minds as if they had always been there. Stories of the divine beast who roamed the forest, ensuring no harm came to those who respected its boundaries.
Even Lira.
Oh, how delightful it was to watch her adjust to these fabricated truths, her sharp mind piecing together a history that was nothing more than my fleeting amusement.
No one was spared from this new narrative.
No one—except Seok-Hyun himself.
He wandered through his new role with no understanding of why, his past lingering like a phantom he couldn't shake. A life filled with betrayal, the weight of it pressing down on him at every turn.
How ironic, that his name meant something entirely different.
"Seok-Hyun," I mused aloud, the syllables rolling off my tongue. "A name that whispers of stability, wisdom, and strength. And yet he is anything but."
I leaned back, watching him stumble through his new reality, his every step steeped in uncertainty. A tragic figure, yes, but oh, how amusing he was.
The forest, the town, the people—they all believed in him now. A protector, a guardian, a savior.
But Seok-Hyun? He believed in nothing.
And that, I thought with a grin, was what made him so beautifully entertaining.