Chapter 1: No Way Home
It had been exactly one week since I was hospitalized and finally, I was discharged. My legs still felt stiff, my mind fuzzy, and my vision… well, that was a mess I had to squint through every hour of the day. They told me rest would heal it. Maybe they were right. But what they didn't understand… that I probably have to day with this everyday, considering the threats out there.
This place, this almost-Earth, resembled home in all the wrong ways. It had skies, cities, languages, and even street food that smelled vaguely familiar. But everything felt off, like looking at a photo that had been manipulated just enough to make your gut twist. The government ran on a magocratic bureaucracy, whatever that meant. Their music had dissonant harmonies and strange chords that made my ears itch. And don't get me started on the way people lived here, treating Curses as casually as smartphones. Because here, supernatural power wasn't a myth. Instead, it was a commodity, a weapon, and a disease all rolled into one.
This world was Accursed Exorcist. A novel I used to binge-read with trembling fingers and bloodshot eyes. Now? I could barely remember what I saw in it. The thrill of battle, the genius twists, the brutal sacrifices… it all lost its charm when I ended up living every damn chapter.
The final arc had played out about a month ago. The Gate of Hell opened wide, vomiting abominations that razed entire city-states. I remembered standing there, heart in my throat, as the sky bled red and lightning coiled like vipers. Somehow, against all odds, we won. The gate closed. The villain fell. The main cast got their closure. The novel ended.
But I didn't.
And now here I was, stumbling through an unfamiliar hallway, mentally cursing the polished floor as I bumped into the doorframe for the third time this morning.
"Again?" I muttered under my breath, blinking away the haze. My vision, once sharp enough to spot a demon sigil at fifty meters, now barely let me see past my own hand. Everything came in smudges and shadows.
I knew the cause. It was the price of my Curse, Stargazer. It granted me terrifying vision-based abilities: soul-reading, trajectory prediction, ethereal sight. But each time I invoked it, my retinas screamed in agony. The Curse gnawed at my eyes like acid, and though they could heal with enough time and rest, I'd pushed far past the safe limit. Permanence was a looming threat now. Maybe even inevitability.
"I should probably buy a stick," I sighed, reaching toward the blurry shape of the wall to steady myself.
"Shouldn't you get glasses, Roy?" a familiar voice asked, light and cool as winter air.
That chill on my skin gave her away instantly.
"Mia," I said, turning in her direction. "You dunce. Like I've said a hundred times… glasses don't work when the problem isn't optical."
"Sorry," she replied with a sheepish chuckle. "I just… couldn't think of a good conversation starter."
I didn't answer right away. What was I supposed to say to that? 'Hey, congrats, you survived the end of the world too!' Instead, she closed the distance and gently grabbed my arm.
"Let me help," she said.
Despite my instinct to protest, I allowed it. We moved slowly, carefully navigating the stairs, her cold presence keeping me grounded. I had once envied the grace with which she wielded the Frost Curse, turning everything around her serene and brittle. Now, it simply reminded me how far I'd fallen. I couldn't even walk for myself.
"Careful," she said as we reached the building's entrance. "You might miss your step."
"I'm not blind," I mumbled, though I knew how pathetic that sounded. "Just… got really bad eyesight."
Out on the curb, I raised my hand when I noticed a yellow blur coming down the street. Maybe it was a taxi. Or maybe it was just a garbage truck for all I knew.
"That's not a cab," Mia said, stifling a laugh.
I lowered my hand, feeling a fresh stab of humiliation crawl up my spine. My posture sank, along with my confidence. I hated how dependent I'd become.
"I should drive you home," she offered.
I frowned. "No need. Just help me catch a cab, that's all. I know you only came by because your sister's here. No need to accommodate me."
She sighed audibly, not in annoyance but in that you're-being-stubborn-again kind of way. "Come on, Roy. We're classmates. Let a friend help you when she's offering."
"I can manage."
"Roy."
Her tone shifted slightly. It was firm, but not harsh. The kind that made you feel like resisting would only make you the unreasonable one. I tried to shake her off, but she didn't let go. She wasn't just being nice. She was being persistent.
And I hated that it felt comforting.
"Come on, think of it as me just returning the favor from the countless times you helped me," Mia said plainly, without a hint of dramatics or sympathy in her voice.
It wasn't pity, thankfully. Just stubborn, pragmatic kindness that she delivered like facts on a clipboard. No room for debate. And just like that, it was settled. She would be driving me home, and all I could do was mutter something unintelligible as I followed her to the car.
I sat shotgun, fumbling with the seatbelt like it was some cryptic puzzle box. My fingers felt clumsy, my coordination out of sync with the rest of my body. I wasn't used to being this… fragile. I used to dodge bullets and slice through demons with reflexes that bordered on precognition. Now I couldn't even clip a buckle.
Mia leaned over without a word, pulled the belt gently across my chest, and clicked it in. Her touch was cold, almost soothing, like snow brushing against skin.
"Look how useless I've become," I muttered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Man, I want to die."
"Don't be like that," she said, her eyes still on the road as she started the car. "A lot of people will miss you."
I turned my head toward the window, watching the world blur by through the fog of my vision. "I don't think so."
There was a pause, not awkward, but heavy.
"Talked to Irvin yet?" she asked, as casually as she could manage.
"No," I answered, not bothering to sugarcoat it. There was no point pretending.
The engine hummed softly beneath us as she pulled onto the road. The silence stretched a little longer this time, filled only by the sound of tires against pavement and the distant buzz of city life. Even now, after the war, the city hadn't quite recovered. There were broken buildings half-covered in tarp, and people walked like they were trying to forget the things they saw.
"Irvin Light," I muttered under my breath, as if saying his name might summon him. "The golden boy himself. The one who holds the Almighty. The hero who saved the world. I like him just enough not to spite him, but he sure can be annoying."
"Why are the two of you fighting, anyway?" Mia asked, stealing a glance at me.
"I'm not fighting anyone," I said dryly. "I'm just a lackey. I wouldn't dare challenge my superior."
She let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. "Stop with the depressing inferiority complex. It's annoying."
"It's not an inferiority complex," I replied, my voice low. "It's just… I need a break."
"So the rumor's true then?" she asked, more softly this time. "You're leaving the exorcist scene?"
I frowned, a crease forming between my brows. "Where did you hear that?"
"Irvin," she confessed. "Hahaha…"
I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat. "Of course. That hero can't keep a damn secret. He's being dirty… probably trying to guilt trip me into staying. Sometimes, he's more childish than anyone I know."
"I don't think the issue is you quitting," Mia said thoughtfully. "It's more about how you did it. You rejected the medals. The press. The Exorcist Association's offer to make you one of their official heroes. You didn't just step down, Roy. You ghosted the whole organization."
I looked at my blurred reflection in the side mirror, barely able to make out my own face. "I just couldn't accept any of it. Sure, I wouldn't say no to the money, but those medals, those accolades… I didn't earn them the way they think. I made decisions in the field that got people hurt. I did what I had to in order to survive. Some of those things crossed lines I never thought I would."
Mia didn't say anything, which I appreciated. She knew when to let silence speak.
"I was never a good person," I said finally, the words hanging in the air like smoke.
"Tell that to Irvin," she said. "Because right now, he thinks you're just throwing everything away for no reason."
"Tell Irvin to stop bothering me," I snapped, harsher than I intended. "He's being a hassle."
She didn't flinch, didn't react with anger. Her hands stayed steady on the wheel as she gave me a sidelong glance.
"Why don't you tell him that yourself?"
I turned away, avoiding her gaze, focusing on the shifting light outside the window like a petty kid who just lost an argument.
It was true… I wasn't a good person. I didn't even try to deny it anymore. There were things I'd done just to survive, choices I made that still woke me in the middle of the night with a tightness in my chest and blood on my hands, whether real or imagined. Things I'd rather not remember, like secretly infiltrating the cult responsible for opening the Gate of Hell, reporting on allies like they were targets, and, on more than one occasion, silencing people who would've exposed the plan too early. People I wasn't supposed to kill. People who probably deserved better.
Sure, I believed I'd done some good… saved a few characters, fought off demons, maybe even turned the tide of battle a few times. But good deeds don't erase sins. They just sit beside them, quietly ignored. There was no balancing scale. Only weight.
"You should just drop me here," I said flatly, breaking the silence in the car.
Mia's hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she stammered, "But… we're not even at your home yet."
"I have poor vision, not complete blindness," I replied, leaning my head back against the seat. "You made too many left turns. Took the long route. That tells me you were stalling to keep this conversation going. Just drop me. If this is where we are, it's fine."
There was a beat of silence, and then she exhaled sharply, guilt softening her voice. "Sorry, sorry… I won't trick you again. I'll take you straight home now. Okay?"
"What do you even want from me?" I asked, my tone not quite accusing, but definitely tired.
She hesitated for just a second before answering. "I just wanted to confirm the rumor. I'm sorry I had to lie about it."
"There's no need to trick me into revealing things," I muttered, more disappointed than angry. "You could've just asked. I would've told you."
Mia let out a small, frustrated sound… somewhere between a sigh and a pout. "Yeah, but you're such a secretive guy. You bottle everything up and lock it down so tight, it's like trying to read a book with half the pages torn out. It's tough to get anything real out of you."
"Does it bother you?" I asked, curious where this was going.
"Nope," she said quickly, too quickly. "But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't feel a little lonely if you left."
I frowned at that. Her words didn't match her tone. Not exactly. Women… always contradicting themselves with gentle voices and sharp intentions. They said things in one breath and meant something else in the next. I'd never figured them out, not in my world, and not here either.
"We're here," she said softly, pulling the car to a stop at the curb.
"Bye," I mumbled as I unlatched the seatbelt, missed the door handle the first time, then found it with the second try and stepped out.
"Take care!" she called out, her voice clear behind me.
I didn't look back. I just nodded vaguely and crossed the street, heading toward my house. It sat quietly in a row of similar homes, the kind no one ever really noticed. A single-story structure with a sagging roof, flaking paint, and a mailbox that hadn't stood straight since the final battle knocked half the city sideways. From the outside, it looked like the kind of place where time had given up.
But inside… inside, it was mine.
I reached into my pocket and retrieved the key, fumbled with the lock for a few seconds before finally clicking it open. The door creaked as I entered, the faint scent of old wood and detergent greeting me like an old friend. I closed it behind me with a soft thud, flicked the light switch, and stood for a moment in the quiet glow.
It was warm in here, even if the walls were cracked and the floor creaked when I walked. My shoes came off with a tired grunt as I lined them up neatly on the rack, a habit that stuck with me even after the war. Then I shuffled to the couch and let myself fall face-first into the cushions.
And just like that, the mask cracked.
I began sobbing, quiet at first, then trembling, like something broke deep inside and I couldn't tape it back together. It wasn't the pain of my Curse or the isolation. It was the truth sinking in again like a needle slipping beneath skin.
I was stuck here. In this world. In this damned novel I used to love.
The author had written the ending, closed the book, and abandoned the world. But I was still here. Breathing in a story that was already over, living a life that wasn't supposed to be mine. I had no next chapter. No arc. No purpose.
Just a broken exorcist in a world that no longer needed him.