10:35 PM — Somewhere in the United States
The office was drenched in shadows, broken only by the pale, blue glow of a single monitor.
Click. Clack. Click.
The sound of rapid keystrokes echoed through the room like rain on glass. It was a familiar rhythm—one that had defined far too many nights.
Alaric Thorne, twenty-eight, hunched over the keyboard, his back aching and eyes stinging from exhaustion. The deep shadows beneath his eyes made him look almost ghostlike.
"One last push… and done."
His finger hovered for a moment before tapping 'Send'. With that single keystroke, the massive project he had carried for months vanished into the corporate void.
He leaned back with a sigh, eyes half-lidded.
"Finished… at last."
The screen dimmed as he shut the computer down. The silence felt heavier now—no coworkers, no chatter. Just the low hum of the CPU and the aching fatigue coiled in his bones.
Grabbing his bag, he left the building. The cold night air slapped his face as the door clicked shut behind him.
The city was still alive—neon lights buzzed, horns honked in the distance, and laughter drifted from unseen places. He walked slowly, each step a battle against the weight in his legs.
Despite everything, he looked up.
"Still beautiful, isn't it?"No matter how tired I am… this skyline always gets me.
He passed a convenience store and hesitated.
"…It's Friday," he muttered. "No work tomorrow."
The door chimed as he stepped inside, heading straight for the fridge. Two cans of beer, slightly cold to the touch. He dropped them on the counter and handed the cashier a bill.
"Keep the change."
On the street again, he barely walked half a block before his phone buzzed. The name on the screen made him smile.
"Hey, Mom."
Her voice came through, warm and gentle. "It's late. You're not still working, are you?"
"I just finished… Don't worry, I'm alright. Just tired."He hesitated, then added, "I sent a little extra with the usual. You and Dad should eat somewhere nice this weekend."
"You really don't have to, Alaric…" her voice softened. "You should use that money for yourself. When's the last time you even went on a trip?"
He laughed quietly. "You know me. My idea of a vacation is getting five hours of sleep."
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself. Just promise me that."
"I promise. Love you, Mom."
"Love you too, son."
The call ended. Alaric stood in place, staring at the lock screen photo: his graduation day. He and his parents were smiling—young, proud, hopeful.
I've come so far… but why does it feel like I haven't moved at all?
A buzz.
He opened Instagram.
A classmate, sprawled on a beach in Santorini. Again.Another group photo at a wine-tasting in France.A caption: "Living my best life ✈️🍷"
His smile faded.
I could've done that too. If I didn't have debts. Or parents to support. Or… obligations.
He shut the app with a sigh and popped open a can of beer. The bitter liquid washed over his tongue as he approached a crosswalk.
The light turned green.
He stepped forward.
HOOOOONK!!
A blinding flash. Screams. Tires screeching.
He turned, eyes wide.
What…?
A wall of headlights roared toward him.
Everything slowed.
He saw it all at once—his childhood home, his parents' smiling faces, all the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, the loneliness.
Is this how it ends?
Then—impact.
Pain exploded through his body. He was airborne for a second, then darkness swallowed him as he hit the pavement.
The beer can rolled, forgotten, as crimson bloomed on the asphalt.
Breathing shallow. Fingers twitching.
If there's… another life…
I hope… I can finally enjoy it.
A single tear fell.
I'm sorry… Mom. Dad…
The light faded.
Elsewhere…
Creaking wood. Cold stone. A breeze through cracked windows.
The scent of aged timber and dust filled the dormitory. Moonlight filtered through narrow panes, illuminating rows of old metal-frame beds.
Suddenly—
A gasp.
One of the sleeping children jolted upright, drenched in sweat.
"Haa… Haa…!"
He clutched at his chest, wild-eyed. His limbs trembled.
I'm alive? No… this isn't right…
The boy—Alaric—looked around, heart pounding.
It wasn't a hospital. It wasn't any place he recognized.
A figure stirred beside him.
"Alaric? Are you okay?" asked a girl softly, her eyes wide with worry.
"You fainted when we were playing," she said, wiping at her face with small hands. "I… I was so scared…"
Alaric blinked. He stared at her.
Then down at himself.
Small hands. Short legs. A thin, fragile body.
What the hell…?
A rush of memories surged forward—names, people, places that weren't his.
Pain lanced through his skull.
"Ugh—!"
The world spun, his vision turned white—and he collapsed once more.