In Uncertainty

Moon: "Why is this story so boring?" she sighed as she approached the table. The room was a bit messy, with papers filled with formulas and stories scattered everywhere. Some of them were important.

The air smelled slightly of mold. The wind coming in through the window disturbed the silence. The other, unknown person was angry. They were gripping their pen so tightly that it could break at any moment. Their voice was high-pitched, almost like a girl's.

Sun: "It's not like I've written tons of books before!" he snapped. "And besides, you all made me do all the work!"

Earth was calm, reading a philosophical book. In reality, he didn't understand much of it. He just wanted to look smart. He placed the book on the table in the center of the room. On the table, there was also a glass and a pitcher. He sighed, looking out the window, tired and sleepy. Then he spoke.

Earth: "You're doing all the wo—"

Sun's anger flared even more, and it looked like he could tear Earth's head off at any moment.

Sun: "What did you say?"

Moon quickly jumped in, panicked.

Moon: "He didn't say anything!"

Earth, also flustered, quickly added, "Yes, I didn't say anything," while taking a step back.

Sun: "Alright then, but if you say it again, you'll regret it!" His voice was threatening, and he wasn't lying.

Moon leaned against the door, suddenly realizing something. "Wait a minute… why are we waiting?" she asked quickly.

Sun started biting his pen.

Sun: "You're right! Why are we waiting? We should just attack!" His eyes sparkled as he spoke, like an innocent angel.

Earth: "We're just following orders. Be patient," he said, switching from his philosophical book to a storybook beside him.

All of them, at the same time, sighed. "I'm really bored…"

Moon glanced at the story Sun was writing and giggled.

"Is this really the story you're writing?"

After hitting Moon on the head a few times, Sun returned to the table and continued writing. In the background, Earth seemed a little scared but didn't show it.

Sun: "You idiot, if you used your brain even a little, I wouldn't have hit you."

Sun furrowed his brows. "And also, why are we using code names? And why is mine 'Sun'?"

Moon, recovering from the pain, chuckled teasingly. "Maybe because you spread your anger like the sun spreads its heat?"

Sun got even more annoyed and smacked Moon's head a few more times.

Moon collapsed on the floor. He was still breathing but unconscious.

Sun calmed down and asked Earth, "Why are our code names so bad?" He said it mockingly.

Earth, still tired, replied, "It's not like I chose them. The mission giver did. What do you expect me to do?"

Sun sighed and took a deep breath. "So, what are you going to do with that necklace?"

Earth glanced at the Ouroboros necklace on the table, closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and then replied calmly, "Nothing at all."

Nam felt like he was trapped in a void. He couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't move his limbs. He didn't understand what was happening. Was this the place after death? Or was it something else? He wanted to know.

Questions kept running through his mind:

"Where am I…?"

"What happened to me?"

"Did I really die?"

"Is this… the afterlife?"

But there was nothing he could do. So far, the only thing he had heard was "S§al=*e." He didn't know what it meant, nor did he want to.

An indescribable fear wrapped around his entire body.

His body trembled as if he was about to die again. Time passed, but he had no idea how much. Eventually, he realized he could open his eyes.

He saw a light, but he couldn't move toward it. He tried again and again, hundreds of times, but it was useless—he was completely immobilized as if he were chained down.

Something began pulling him. As he was dragged, his fear started to fade. But after a while, he found himself shifting between light and darkness. In the end, he was yanked forcefully into the light.

He heard a voice but couldn't fully understand it.

"Na- wak- up- qui-"

The voice belonged to a girl, seemingly around 13 or 14 years old.

Nam barely opened his eyes. He was in an old-fashioned hospital. The hospital was built of wood and timber, with beds lined up on both sides. Some of them had patients lying in them.

In front of him, a 13- or 14-year-old girl was crying. She was sobbing more and more intensely, gripping the blanket tightly. Her tears had already soaked the fabric.

She had brown hair and black eyes. She wore a tunic, accompanied by a shirt underneath.

On the other side of the room, there was a doctor and another man.

It was obvious the man was a soldier—years of training were etched into his body. He had a light beard and looked deeply sorrowful.

Nam couldn't understand what was happening.

The man spoke. His voice carried both sadness and relief. It was deep.

"My son… I'm sorry… I won't make the same mistake again!" As he spoke, he started crying, as if he had nearly lost something precious but managed to save it at the last moment.

The doctor smiled and, in a calm voice, said, "I'll leave you alone." He then left the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor before fading into silence.

The girl immediately threw herself onto Nam, hugging him tightly.

Nam was still in shock, but he managed to stammer out a few words.

"S-sorry, b-but w-who a-are y-you?"

The man collapsed to the floor, his crying intensifying. It was as if his world had ended.

The girl, now panicked, spoke quickly.

"Brother! Don't you remember me?!"

Nam shook his head no.

The man, filled with fear, approached him and hugged him. Tears streamed from his eyes.

"Even if you've lost your memories… you are still my son!"

Wiping his tears, he asked with a sliver of hope, "At least… do you remember anything?"

Nam shook his head again.

The last spark of hope in the man's eyes vanished, like a candle burning out.

Nam remained calm and tried to maintain his composure as he looked into the man's eyes. Though he still stuttered, he asked,

"W-what's m-my n-name?"

The man stared into Nam's eyes for a moment.

"Nam… Nam Larod."

Nam was shocked. His name was still the same. That was possible, but how could his surname be the same?

The man smiled warmly.

"You'll have to stay here for a week" he said, though he didn't seem happy about it.

Behind him, his supposed sister clenched her fists with determination and declared,

"When you get out of the hospital, I'll help you remember!"

Nam's supposed father and sister left the hospital room.

The first day passed without much happening.

On the second day, a new patient arrived—someone roughly Nam's age.

The new patient was placed in the bed next to Nam.

He had blond hair and he might be blind, though Nam wasn't entirely sure. His height was average.

After checking his condition, the doctors left.

It seemed they didn't know what to do. His disease was a mystery to them.

Nam decided to talk to the boy. His voice was a bit weak, but still audible.

"You look worse than the other patients."

The boy smiled slightly and spoke.

"I have an unidentified illness, but the doctors said I'll be fine." He coughed a little, then added in a weaker voice, "My mom says I got sick because evil spirits are haunting me."

Nam studied the boy. He looked like someone suffering from cancer. He was far too thin for his age, his body covered in scars and bruises.

Nam thought to himself, "Judging by the hospital and what his mother said about evil spirits… I'm in the Middle Ages. This is bad."

The boy, curious, looked at Nam.

"Ah, um… what's your name?" he asked, smiling like an innocent child.

Nam smiled back and answered,

"My name is Nam… Nam Larod."