Avasyu woke up in the morning. His mind felt calm yet empty. His sleep had been incomplete, yet he wasn't tired.
One thought lingered,"what happened to Yash after that? Did he find his sister?"
As soon as he felt his mind growing restless, he closed his eyes and began to meditate. Within a few hours, his thoughts were back under control.
Then, he remembered—there was supposed to be a second example.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the book from the table and flipped to the last page of the first example. His hands moved quickly as he turned to the next section.
But there was nothing.
A blank, white page. No words. No second example.
Confusion filled him.
"There should have been something—another story, another clue. But there was nothing at all."
"Why?"
As the title of the book suggested, there should have been two examples. One was Yash. The other should have been there as well.
But no matter how many pages Avasyu flipped through, he found nothing. No second example. Just empty, untouched pages.
Then, a realization struck him.
The first example was Yash, writing his own story. So the second example… should be someone else, writing theirs.
If no one had written their story yet, it could only mean one thing—there had never been another reader before Avasyu.
Which meant… he was the second example.
Avasyu picked up a pen with blue ink and began to write.
"The second example is me.I am Avasyu.
I have no parents. No sister. No one dear to me.I am alone."
"People call me Cursed Eyes—all because of my gray eyes."
Avasyu began writing his own story—the second example.
He poured his past onto the pages, recalling his life before and after the incident.
But in doing so, he forgot something crucial—his special power. He didn't write about his dreams or the abilities that set him apart. Instead, he focused on his emotions, his losses, and the weight of his grief.
He wrote about his friends and their tragic deaths. He wrote about himself—the loneliness, the pain, and the despair that once consumed him. And most importantly, he wrote about how this book had helped him find redemption, pulling him back from the edge.
He wrote about how hunger had guided him, how his heart had kept him grounded, and how his tears had pushed him forward. Everything had worked just as the book had instructed.
But one thing remained uncertain—his goal.
He had none.
There was no revenge to take. No way to bring back his friends. No dream left to chase.
He was lost.
That's why he didn't write about his goal. He had none.
And so, the second example was complete.
Now only one month remained before Avasyu's solitude would end. He could hardly wait to return to the city. But as the days counted down, a question lingered in his mind—what comes next?
What could he possibly do, alone in a city so vast?
And more importantly… what would his goal be?
Days passed, lost in thought, yet no clear path emerged.
It had now been ten months since he last stepped outside his room. Soon, his solitude would end, and he would have to face the final assessment to gain his freedom.
But in these ten months, he had changed.
His body had grown stronger. His mind had sharpened. His physical strength had developed, and his mental resilience had deepened.
It felt as if he was being reborn.
Just like a baby takes ten months to fully form in the womb, he too had spent ten months transforming—emerging as someone new. Unaware of the world that awaited him. Ready to see it with fresh eyes.
Amazed by the life ahead.
The moment had arrived. Soon, the doors would open, leading him to the outside world.
Excitement and nervousness swirled within him, but he remained steady. He was confident—he could handle whatever the assessment threw at him.
Finally, the door creaked open.
"Crack!"
His guard stood waiting for him, a rare hint of approval in his eyes. He was there to congratulate Avasyu for completing his solitude.
But there was still one final step left—the assessment.
The last hurdle between him and true freedom.
The guard met his gaze and spoke firmly.
"Follow me. It's time for your final assessment."
Avasyu turned to his guard.
"We can talk to each other now?" he asked.
The guard nodded. "Yeah, we can."
A wave of relief washed over Avasyu.
The guard led him through the hallways until they reached the Chief's office. Inside, the old man sat at his desk, signing a document. The guard stepped forward.
"May we enter?"
Without looking up, the Chief responded, "Yeah, come in."
The guard gave Avasyu a nod before stepping outside, taking his position by the door.
Avasyu hesitated for a moment, watching the guard, before the Chief's voice pulled his attention back.
"Sit down."
He took a seat in front of the large desk, his eyes scanning the room. It was spacious, filled with papers and towering cupboards. But what caught his attention was the board on the far wall—covered in pictures of children, each marked with a number.
Curiosity flickered in his mind. Before he could ask, the Chief followed his gaze and smiled.
"Do you know who these children are?"
Avasyu shook his head.
The Chief chuckled softly, rising from his chair. He walked over to the board, studying it for a moment before speaking.
"These are the ones who achieved something extraordinary. They came here broken, just like you. But they improved. They pushed past their limits and became something greater."
His voice carried both pride and nostalgia as he traced his fingers over the board.
"They earned their place here. They needed to be remembered."
The Chief turned to Avasyu, his gaze steady. "Do you want your photo to be here?"
Avasyu hesitated. He wasn't sure how to respond.
Did he want to be remembered like them? Did he deserve it?
Instead of answering, he looked back at the board, scanning the faces. Then, his voice broke the silence.
"Where is Yash?"
The Chief's expression shifted, his smile fading slightly.
"Yash?" he repeated, as if trying to recall.
A pause.
"I don't remember anyone by that name."
But before he could say anything, the Chief continued, "I'll look into it. If there's any record of him, I'll let you know."