When Ren opened his eyes, he was first struck by the silence.
The horizon stretched out endlessly before him—pure white, dazzling without being blinding. The sky, too, was bright, bathing the space in a soft, unreal light… yet no sun was shining.
No shadows, no wind. Just that suspended, floating light, as if time itself had decided to pause.
But the most disturbing thing… was the sensation within him.
He had never felt so clear-headed. Every beat of his heart, every thought, every detail around him was absurdly vivid. As if, for the first time in his life, he had truly stepped into the present moment.
"You finally decided to show up."
Ren turned at once. The voice sounded familiar, yet it wasn't his.
Behind him, leaning against a massive, leafless oak, sat a shadowy figure, legs crossed, perfectly still. The tree, enormous and alone, looked hollowed out, lifeless—no leaves, no sap… just there, planted in the white void like a forgotten relic.
Ren didn't feel any hostility. But caution lingered.
"Who are you?"
The shadow slowly turned its head toward him. Its face was indistinct, blurred like a half-remembered dream, but its eyes shone with a strange light.
"You probably have a sense of who I am, don't you?"
"Yes… but I'd like to hear you say it."
A light chuckle escaped the figure, as if it found the situation amusing. With a snap of its fingers, a lounge appeared between them—two velvet armchairs, a coffee table, even a steaming cup set down with care. All of it right in the middle of the white void.
"Please, have a seat. This might take a while."
Ren hesitated. But he quickly understood he wasn't in a position to argue or bargain. He sat down.
"As you guessed… I'm a version of Ren," said the figure. "But don't get it wrong: I'm neither evil nor benevolent. None of that."
Ren raised an eyebrow.
"A version of me, you mean."
"Put another way—together, you and I make the real Ren."
Ren didn't get it. He felt whole. He hadn't changed. So who was this double claiming to be his other half? What could he possibly add? What was missing inside him that would summon such an entity now?
"Then let me ask you something," the entity said suddenly, leaning back further into its chair.
"When did you become aware of your existence in this world? What's the oldest memory you can recall?"
Ren narrowed his eyes slightly. The question's strangeness threw him off… but he answered without overthinking.
"When I was five. I was playing in a pool with kids my age."
The shadow nodded slowly, as if satisfied.
"And before that?"
Ren shook his head.
"No. Nothing."
He tried to dig through his memory, but beyond that precise scene, there was nothing. A hazy void, opaque and unreachable.
"You see," said the entity, "it varies from person to person. Some memories are locked away due to trauma or a major event. In your case, you probably remember… because you almost drowned that day."
Ren's head snapped up. He had never mentioned that detail. Yet the shadow knew it with unsettling precision.
"I don't see what that has to do with you."
The other figure gave a barely visible smile, then slowly raised its cup to what must have been its lips and continued:
"Before you were conscious of your actions… I was the one running the show."
"You mean…"
"Ah, now you're starting to get it."
The voice remained calm, even gentle—like a narrator tired of telling the same story for the thousandth time.
"I was the one who opened our eyes on the day we were born. The one who cried for the first time. Who learned to crawl, walk, speak. Who screamed for food when we were hungry. Who watched the world without understanding it."
Ren stayed silent. A part of him resisted believing it… but deep down, everything inside him screamed that it was true.
This presence, this voice… it wasn't a double, nor an illusion.
It was him. Or rather, himself—an older, more primal version. One he had unknowingly left behind.
"Then where have you been all this time?"
The entity didn't answer right away. It simply swirled the liquid in its imaginary cup, as if taking time to find the right words.
"I've always been here," it finally said.
"But my role changed."
"What do you mean?"
"That tragic day… in the pool… I was lost. Disoriented. I tasted death for the first time. I was suffocating, struggling, but it was useless. Then… the lifeguard pulled us out."
The shadow paused, staring at the white horizon, almost nostalgic.
"But even after we were saved, I couldn't calm down. Something in me had snapped. I was panicking. I didn't understand. Then… you appeared. You. And suddenly, everything became clear. You brought order to our mind."
It went on, more composed:
"From that day on, you took the lead. You handled emotions, logic, perception of the world. And me… I became the executor. The one who obeys. The one who acts."
Ren frowned.
"I don't remember giving you any orders."
A light laugh escaped the entity.
"Really? Then tell me… how do you move? How do you walk, lift your arm, turn your head in the real world?"
Ren opened his mouth, but no words came.
Because the answer was obvious.
He had never issued an order—not consciously. Yet his body moved. His legs walked. His hands grasped things. He thought, and action followed.
Always.
The shadow crossed its arms, as if to emphasize the silence.
"See? You never asked yourself who actually carries out all those movements. Who acts when you simply think 'walk.' It was me. All along."
Ren straightened slightly in his chair, uneasy. For the first time since arriving in this place, a crack opened in his sense of certainty.
He understood. But he still refused to fully accept it.
Then, everything shifted.
Ren tried to stand. In vain.
His body refused to obey.
Worse… his heart, too, seemed to stop. Just for a second—one second too long. One second of absolute silence in his chest.
The pain hit like lightning. As if his entire being had collapsed from the inside.
He collapsed onto the ground, on all fours, gasping, struggling to breathe, his gaze lost in the white void. The entire world spun around him.
The entity, still seated in its chair, watched him without a trace of concern.
"See? Even here, I control you."
Ren clenched his teeth, gathering what strength he had left.
"Then… why didn't you take over the body? Why spend all this time just obeying?"
The shadow tilted its head slightly, a faint smile tracing its indistinct face.
"I already told you, didn't I?"
And with a snap of its fingers, everything returned.
Breath. Strength. Control.
Ren felt his heart beat again, his limbs respond, his mind sharpen.
"Back then, I had no will of my own. I just executed. Only that. Your thoughts, your intentions, your basic instincts… I was the perfect tool."
The figure paused, casually crossing its legs.
"Even if you'd taken the pill… nothing would've triggered. Nothing."
But its gaze darkened.
"Still, the world has changed, Ren. Some laws have become blurry, porous. What was impossible yesterday can now happen."
The figure slowly stood, walking toward him.
"That's why… you can see me now. Speak to me. Feel me. And more importantly… why I can act."
Ren remained silent, his heart still pounding from the brief moment life had slipped from him.
"In that case… what do you want from me?"
"Nothing," the entity replied nonchalantly, hands behind its head. "Absolutely nothing."
Ren frowned.
"So… you're not planning to wipe me out or something?"
The shadow nearly burst out laughing.
"Wipe you out… and be stuck doing all the work? No thanks. Hard pass."
Strangely, that answer brought him a bit of comfort.
He exhaled deeply, then asked:
"So… does that mean you'll send me back to reality?"
"Yes," the entity said without hesitation. "I can. With a snap of my fingers, if you want."
But it continued, more serious now:
"However… if I send you back right now, your chances of survival are slim."
"Why?"
The entity didn't answer immediately.
A simple snap of the fingers.
And instantly, the world around Ren blurred. The white horizon smeared like a painting in the rain. Even his own body began to disintegrate, piece by piece, as if dissolving into the air.
"Don't worry," the entity said with a crooked smile, its voice echoing as the world unraveled.
"When you come back… you'll be a new man."
Then, everything vanished.
* * *
In a rundown shack with cracked walls and a leaking roof, a door creaked under the weight of a rough-looking man. Without a word, he stepped inside and dumped a bucket of icy water on the child curled up on the floor, still trapped in sleep.
"Wake up, Matis. You've still got a debt to pay for your parents."
The child jolted awake, soaked to the bone. The cold hit harder than the words. The man turned on his heel immediately, not waiting for a response.
"Take the sheep to the meadow," he grunted before disappearing down a dark hallway.
Matis remained frozen for a moment. Not because of the water or the chill—but because of a dream… strange. A white world. A sunless sky. Faded memories, like leaves blown away before he could catch them.
He rubbed his neck, trying to stretch it, but something stopped him. As if an invisible constraint blocked his movement. A weight. A collar? No… probably nothing.
"My body's just stiff, that's all," he thought to reassure himself.
He stood up slowly, wrung out his soaked clothes as best he could, then crossed the cabin's threshold without a word, heading for the meadow.
Best not to keep waiting those who hold your life's debt in their hands.