The Blind Leading the Blind

I have never felt so lost.

The wind rustles through the golden fields, the scent of fresh earth and sun-kissed wheat filling the air. The sky is boundless, stretching endlessly above us, so vividly blue it makes my chest ache.

This is my world.

And yet, I do not know it.

I should know it. I was meant to know it. But I remember nothing—no maps, no roads, no places that feel familiar. No guiding voice whispering in my ear, no instinct pulling me toward some unseen destiny.

I was born of this land, but I do not belong to it.

And the man standing before me—he does not belong here at all.

——

His eyes keep darting around as if the world itself will vanish if he blinks too long. He shifts his weight, his movements stiff, unnatural—he feels like he doesn't fit like he has been forced into a shape that was never meant for him.

Because he wasn't meant for this.

And yet, here he is.

My Black Spirit.

The one who should be guiding me.

The one who knows even less than I do.

——

"You really are an idiot," I muttered, crossing my arms.

His gaze snaps back to me, startled like he had momentarily forgotten I was here.

"What?"

"You weren't supposed to click it," I say, repeating my earlier accusation.

His brow furrows. "And you weren't supposed to be missing."

I stiffen. A flicker of guilt twists inside me. It is true—I was not where I should have been. But I did not make that choice.

"You still shouldn't have clicked it."

"You think I knew what would happen?" His voice sharpens, frustration bubbling beneath his words. "I thought I was just—playing a game."

I flinch.

A game.

That is all I ever was to him, wasn't I? A name on a screen, a body crafted from idle curiosity. A passing thought.

Something created and forgotten.

His eyes soften slightly as if he regrets saying it. But he does not take it back.

And I do not forgive him.

Not yet.

——

A heavy silence stretches between us.

For all my anger, for all my resentment, there is one undeniable truth:

I do not know where we are.

And neither does he.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. "Fine. Then let's figure this out."

He exhales as if finally allowing himself to accept this.

I hesitate, watching him carefully. His hood casts a shadow over his face, but I can still see the faint tension in his jaw and the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

This must feel unreal to him.

And yet, he is here.

Trapped, just as I was.

"Hey," I say, softer this time. "What should I call you?"

He blinks, caught off guard.

"Call me?"

I shift my weight, tilting my head slightly. "Your name. You have one, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then what is it?"

He hesitates.

For a moment, I wonder if he's about to lie.

But I already know.

"Is it…" I trail off, letting the suspense hang between us. Then, I smirk, tilting my chin up. "Is it Elias Verden?"

His entire body goes still.

I watch as something flickers across his face—shock, unease, maybe even the barest hint of embarrassment.

His reaction is all the confirmation I need.

I grin.

"So it is Elias Verden."

His eyes narrow. "How do you know that?"

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "You left your signature on one of those papers back in your room. I saw it."

He exhales sharply, muttering something under his breath. Probably cursing me.

I'm enjoying this far too much.

"You shouldn't have been able to read it," he grumbles.

"And yet, I did." I give him a pointed look. "Funny how your world never seemed to follow its own rules either."

He groans, rubbing his temples. "This is insane."

"That makes two of us," I mutter.

——

For a long moment, we simply stand there.

The world around us remains unfamiliar.

I have no memories to guide us.

He has no knowledge of this land.

We are two beginners, fumbling in the dark.

The most incompetent Black Spirit.

The most inexperienced Maehwa.

A duo with no sense of direction, no plan, and no way of knowing what happens next.

And yet…

I am not alone.

For the first time since I became aware, I am not alone.

I glance at Elias—his face still tense, his mind still struggling to catch up.

I should hate him.

I should curse him for bringing us both to this place, for making a mistake he never should have made.

And yet—

A part of me is glad.

Because if I must be lost, at least I will not be lost alone.