A private hospital room.
A place no one wanted to approach for many reasons. But once someone ended up here, it meant they were facing a severe health issue.
A young boy sat on the hospital bed, dressed in a patient's gown, casually chewing on a slice of apple.
His father, a middle-aged man in a dark suit, leaned against the window, smoking a cigarette while gazing into the distance.
His sister, who had just turned eighteen—the prime of a young woman's youth—was carefully folding his clothes.
Meanwhile, their mother stood outside, speaking with the attending doctor.
He didn't know when this scene had become so familiar. Ever since he entered high school and discovered he had a heart disease—a rare mutation that made treatment difficult—he had lived with the knowledge that he could die at any moment.
His parents and sister would visit him every weekend, discussing his condition with the doctors.
He felt fortunate that his family was wealthy enough to afford private hospital care and medical treatment.
He continued enjoying his fruit while waiting for his mother to finish her conversation.
A moment later, his mother walked back into the room. Her expression was slightly heavy, but the moment she saw him looking at her, she immediately brightened up, her face turning radiant as she spoke:
"An Khanh, don't worry. The doctor said everything is progressing well. You might be able to leave the hospital soon."
Looking at the woman before him, his heart clenched. He forced a smile and replied:
"Really? That's great! Maybe I'll make it to the citywide music competition this year. When I win first place, the whole family has to come and watch me."
Hearing his words, his mother and sister smiled, while his father laughed heartily.
"That's my son! You have to be strong and ambitious like that."
The family basked in the warmth of their conversation until visiting hours ended.
But now, in stark contrast to the happiness from earlier, the hospital room felt heavier than ever, with only one person left inside.
The attending doctor entered, his face marked by years of experience. Looking at the young boy in front of him, he couldn't help but sigh.
A young boy… Why did he have to suffer from such an illness?
Suddenly, the boy spoke:
"Doctor, why did you tell my mother that? About my condition?"
The doctor remained silent, contemplating. The boy had been here for nearly two years. They had spent so much time together that they were now quite familiar, often exchanging thoughts—even about his illness.
The doctor sighed and finally replied:
"Your condition is very bad. Your heart is nearly at its limit. You could suffer cardiac arrest or a stroke at any moment. Even we aren't sure if we can save you. Your family needs to be prepared."
Hearing the doctor's words, the boy knew they were true—necessary, even—but he still protested:
"But you promised me. I don't want my parents to worry."
The doctor looked at him, pulled up a chair, and sat down. Then, he said:
"You know, the most painful part of death is when it happens unexpectedly, without warning. Imagine what kind of shock your parents would feel if one day, this illness suddenly took you away. That might be the greatest pain of their lives. That's why… I believe preparing them is necessary."
An Khanh remained silent. He understood this, yet his heart was still in conflict.
Dr. Trung sighed. He had witnessed many patients in his career, yet with An Khanh, there was always a certain heaviness in his chest. He stood up and, before leaving, gently advised:
"It's late. Try to get some rest."
The room returned to its usual silence.
But An Khanh didn't rest. Instead, he sat up and gazed out the window, looking toward the park across from the hospital.
There, boys his age were in the middle of a soccer match. Two of them wrestled for the ball before the rest of the players swarmed in like flies to honey.
Watching them, something inside him burned.
A longing.
A deep, undeniable yearning to be like them.
While An Khanh was lost in thought, the hospital room door opened once again. He turned his head, startled, but upon recognizing the person, he immediately broke into a smile.
"Mai Anh!"
A nurse walked in, carrying a small plate of cake. Seeing him sit up, she smiled and said:
"Dr. Chung told me you were feeling down. And I believe that when someone's feeling bad, good food always helps. So, I bought you some cake!"
Mai Anh was a nursing intern—cheerful and kind-hearted, beloved by everyone. An Khanh was no exception.
Sometimes, he even wondered if she could be his girlfriend someday.
He happily accepted the cake, placed it on the table by his bed, and began eating. Mai Anh sat in the chair Dr. Chung had used earlier, chatting with him. An Khanh felt at ease, sharing his thoughts and feelings.
After some time, Mai Anh had to leave, but before she did, she handed him her phone and whispered:
"I'll let you borrow it, but you have to give it back tomorrow, okay?"
An Khanh's face lit up with joy, nodding enthusiastically.
That night, he hid under his blanket and watched a soccer match on the phone.
It was the finals—more intense and thrilling than any regular match.
Yet the more he watched, the stronger the fire inside him burned.
As he gazed at the athletes sprinting across the field, two streams of tears silently rolled down his cheeks, soaking into his pillow.
He knew his reality.
His life was fragile, like a candle waiting for the wind to snuff it out.
But he didn't want to die.
He wanted to live.
He wanted to stay with his family. To play with his father, talk with his mother, and grow up alongside his sister.
He wanted to make friends. To run, to laugh, to experience the full spectrum of youth.
He wanted so many things.
HE WANTED TO LIVE.
The more he thought about it, the more his chest ached. He ignored the phone, curling up beneath his blanket, hoping that sleep would wash away his pain.
But later that night, a sharp pain jolted him awake.
It felt like needles stabbing straight into his heart.
The pain came in waves, each sharper and more unbearable than the last. His heartbeat grew erratic, completely out of control. His vision blurred as he reached for the emergency button, but his fingers failed to find it.
Desperate, he reached for the bedside table.
His hand hit a glass of water.
CRASH!!!
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the hallway, drawing the attention of the night staff. They rushed into his room, their eyes widening at the sight of shattered glass scattered across the floor.
An Khanh was curled up, his face deathly pale as he clutched his chest. Two nurses recognized the danger immediately and called for the doctor.
"My heart… it hurts…"
A team of doctors stormed in.
"His condition is critical. Prepare the defibrillator!"
"Start with a low voltage."
ZAP!
Naz's body jolted.
"No response. Increase the charge!"
ZAP!!
Still no improvement.
"Again!"
His body went numb.
"Maximum charge!"
"NOW!"
ZAP!!!
Naz's vision blurred.
"We're losing him. Prep for emergency surgery!"
The entire hospital was in chaos.
Dr. Chung, woken from his rest, rushed to the scene. He followed the medical team, his face tight with worry.
"The patient is unconscious. No need for anesthesia. Begin the operation immediately!"
"Hurry!"
"Scalpel!"
"His blood pressure is dropping fast!"
"...!"
"His heart rate is dangerously low!"
"...!"
"Defibrillate!"
"Artificial pulse! Move quickly!"
"Oxygen, Type A blood—get them here now!"
Naz drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness, hearing the frantic voices around him.
"I'm… so tired…"
And then, darkness.
"We regret to inform you… The patient did not survive. Time of death… 1:20 AM…"
Naz opened his eyes.
Darkness.
He was floating in an empty void, no light, no sound—only himself.
So this is Limbo…?
He thought of the myths. The Bridge of Forgetfulness, the Eighteen Hells.
He was dead.
But something felt wrong. His heart was still pounding.
Fear clawed at his chest.
"Is anyone here?" he called out.
Silence.
"Please… help me. I don't want to die."
"Somebody… please…!"
He screamed. He begged.
"FATHER!!!"
"MOTHER!!!"
"SISTER!!!"
Nothing.
Only darkness.
"I WANT TO LIVE!!!"
Exhausted, he drifted into unconsciousness.
Time passed.
Was it days? Months? Years?
Then, suddenly—
A force pulled him through the void.
He was no longer alone.
A voice—cold and ethereal—spoke.
"Do you truly wish to live?"
Naz's breath hitched.
"Yes!"
"Why?"
Naz hesitated.
"I don't know. But I do. I want to live."
A soft, chilling laugh echoed.
"Very well. But in return, when we meet again… you must give me an answer."
A figure emerged from the mist.
Dressed in flowing black, hair cascading like shadows, her face veiled in smoke.
She extended a hand.
"Do you wish to return?"
Naz didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Darkness swallowed him once more.
End of Chapter 1.
The game isn't over yet...Naz is still trapped in the cycle of life and death, and every choice comes with a price.Is there a way out, or is he simply getting closer to his downfall?
Update schedule: Monday - Wednesday - Friday - Sunday.Don't forget to add the novel to your Library so you won't miss the next developments!What are your thoughts on this chapter? Leave a comment and let's discuss!New chapters will be released daily until the first mini-arc is completed.Send some power stones, everyone!!! 🚀