Prologue

As the clock struck midnight, he stood on the top of the six-story building, his silhouette stark against the pale glow of the moon. The wind whispered softly, tugging at his disheveled hair and loose clothing, as if trying to dissuade him. His dull black eyes scanned the empty streets below, glimmering with a quiet desolation that seemed to reflect the lifeless cityscape. A weary sigh escaped his lips, heavy with the weight of countless memories.

He tilted his head back, gazing at the starless sky. The air was cool, almost soothing, but it did little to calm the storm raging within. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift for a moment longer before taking a step forward.

Without hesitation, he stepped off the edge.

The wind roared in his ears as he plummeted, his body cutting through the night like a fallen star. The world blurred around him, but his thoughts were crystal clear. Fragments of his life flickered before his eyes, a kaleidoscope of memories painted in hues of pain, betrayal, and regret. Each one tugged at his heart, a vivid tapestry of the path that had led him to this moment.

He was born into a second-generation wealthy family, but that privilege came with a cruel twist. He wasn't the legitimate son of his father. No, he was the bastard child his father had with the maid, his mother, who died giving birth to me.

From the moment he could understand, his stepmother made sure he knew what he was, an unwanted stain on her perfect family. His step-siblings followed her lead, their hatred cutting deeper with every taunt, every shove, every sneer. At school, things weren't much different. The relentless bullying chipped away at what little self-worth I had left. Every day felt like a battle, and I was always on the losing side.

The only place he found solace was in Dawn of Light, a medieval-fantasy game that offered endless scenarios to explore. Within its vast, immersive world, he could be anyone, do anything. It became his refuge, a sanctuary where the pain of reality couldn't reach him.

But life outside the game didn't let up.

When he turned 20, his father died in the car accident. Whatever fragile protection he might have provided disappeared with him. His stepmother wasted no time. She threw him out of the house, her disgust etched into every word as she told him that he was no longer her problem.

Homeless and penniless, he scraped by, drifting from one odd job to another, barely managing to survive. The betrayals didn't stop, either. Friends turned their backs on him. People he trusted used him, lied to him, discarded him. Slowly, the bitterness and despair took root, growing into something he could no longer control.

Eventually, he landed a job at a small corporate office. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him afloat. Life settled into a dull, monotonous routine, and he thought perhaps he could endure it.

Then, two years later, he met her. Jane his girlfriend. She was kind, or so he believed. Her smile felt like a balm on his battered soul. For the first time, he allowed himself to hope, to believe that happiness might not be out of reach. She became his light in a world of shadows, and he clung to her as though she were his last tether to humanity.

But happiness, it seems, was not meant for him.

One rainy night, he came home early, drenched and exhausted, only to find her in their bed—with his boss. The sight froze him. My heart twisted into something unrecognizable, an amalgamation of rage, betrayal, and self-loathing.

How had I been so blind? So pathetic?

In that moment, something inside him snapped. He doesn't remember much of what happened next—just the cold steel of a knife in his hand, the crimson that splattered across the walls, their screams, my smile, and then... silence.

He stood there, staring at the lifeless bodies of the two people who had hurt him most, and felt... nothing. No relief, no satisfaction. Just emptiness.

And now, here he is. Falling.

The ground rushed toward him, a blur of concrete and shadow, but Edgar's mind was elsewhere. Each second stretched into an eternity, replaying every mistake, every heartbreak, every betrayal that had brought him to this point.

/Thud/

Then, with a sickening thud, it was over.

The world went silent, save for the faint echo of impact that rippled through the empty streets. His broken body lay crumpled on the cold, hard pavement, motionless under the pale glow of the streetlights. Blood pooled beneath him, glistening darkly in the moonlight.

With that fall, Edgar Neal ceased to be. A man consumed by a life too heavy to bear, by a pain that had eroded him piece by piece until there was nothing left.

The city remained indifferent. Cars passed in the distance, their headlights cutting through the darkness. The wind carried on, unbothered, as if to sweep away the last whispers of his existence.

And even in death, the world continued on, unmoved by the end of one man's tragic story.