The Edge of Unending Gloom

How many hours, days had passed—perhaps even longer—I could no longer tell. No matter how closely I watched the clock's hands, they refused to move. At times, I even wondered if the ticking I heard was nothing more than a sound echoing inside my own head.

No matter what I tried to occupy myself with, I couldn't stop thinking about that girl. At some point, it felt less like mere longing and more like an obsession—an unpleasant feeling I struggled to suppress.

I was so tired, so utterly exhausted, yet sleep remained forever out of reach. Not because I was unwilling or afraid—simply because I could not.

Spirits do not grow weary... then what was this state I found myself in?

Resigned, I decided to do nothing at all. I lay there so long that the pillow memorized the shape of my head, and the mattress, the contours of my body. So this was what it meant to merge with the bed.

I once heard someone say that relationships between people are like diving into deep waters. You keep sinking deeper and deeper until you reach the very bottom. Your air runs out, and you struggle to rise to the surface again. Then you break through, gasping for a single breath—before beginning to drown all over again.

Back then, I couldn't quite grasp what those words meant. Since then, other people never seemed important enough for me to worry about their feelings. And none of them ever stirred anything within me. Perhaps that's what they call shirking responsibility. Looking back, I think I understand how it must have seemed: the moment the threads began to strain, I cut them without hesitation. But a single breath is not the same as reaching the shore.

I just hope her absence is that breath of air. But if she decides not to return…

"Fine then. Stay away… I wish I could say that."

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I still hoped she would come back. But what if she had abandoned me? Would I spend the rest of eternity locked away behind the door of my apartment, alone? Wasn't that what I wanted? Hm… now I wasn't so sure. Now it seemed like the worst fate imaginable.

Truthfully, I was waiting for her. Waiting for her to return. I wanted to see her again, to hear her voice. There was no point denying it—I needed her.

A little later, I even thought of setting out to look for her again. To retrace all the places we had already been. If that was even possible anymore. But at some point, everything beyond the apartment turned into deaf, invisible walls. I was trapped here, and all that remained was to wait.

.

Day… who knows which. The endless nothingness slowly began to eat away at my ability to think. I remember lying on the bed one moment, then suddenly finding myself standing in front of the open fridge the next. What was I searching for inside it, when I felt neither hunger nor thirst?

I had already drunk all the beer that had somehow, by some small miracle, ended up in the fridge. But my attempts to dull my mind were in vain. No matter how much I drank, my thoughts remained painfully clear. Even my bladder stayed silent, as if everything I swallowed simply vanished. In the past, just two cans would have had me squirming for the bathroom.

Now, there was only emptiness. Utter emptiness—both in the fridge and inside me.

Before, when I was bored, I would step out for a smoke, watching the passersby or the sky. But there were no cigarettes now. No passersby. The sky remained unchanged, save for the rare times when it was swallowed by clouds.

It was mesmerizing to watch the little lights beyond the window slowly vanish behind thick, crawling clouds. They crept in gently, as if someone were carefully spreading a vast, heavy blanket across the sky. First one star disappeared, then another, then the moon—and soon the entire heavens were drowned in dense, velvety darkness. And then, as if someone simply swapped out the picture, everything returned all at once.

I wondered why that was. Traveling with the girl, I'd never noticed it before. Maybe because my eyes were always on her? Yes, that sounded about right. But now, the sky was the only place that changed, even if only occasionally. Everything else remained motionless, frozen in place.

Speaking of constancy—it was all beginning to remind me more and more of my old routine. Everything looked the same: the same road, the same faces. Back then I used to think nothing ever changed. Now, I knew it for certain.

I never felt relief coming home after work. The reason, most likely, lay in that very sameness—in the endless cycle, day after day, week after week. By the end of each week, my mind hardly noticed what my body was doing—life simply ran on autopilot.

Why was I thinking about this now? Even if the reasons were different, the outcome was the same: my mind hadn't had time to catch up with my body's actions and—

— Here I am…

I announced aloud, as though narrating my own movements.

— How long have you been giving these monologues?

I jumped so violently that I slammed the fridge door shut by reflex. She had appeared just as suddenly as she'd once vanished. One moment, she simply stood there beside me.

Shaking off a second of stunned paralysis, I turned my head toward her.

Today she looked different. Apparently, during her absence, she'd completely overhauled her style. Her hair was neatly gathered and draped over her left shoulder, and instead of the familiar qipao or yukata, she wore a hoodie with a design that—wait. Where did that come from? I distinctly remembered having that one custom made—it was one of a kind.

But that hardly mattered right now.

— Whe… How long have you been standing there? — My voice came out uncertain, tinged with awkwardness.

— Oh? Are you not happy to see me? — she teased.

— Of course I was. I was happy but…

Where had you been? Why did you come back? And how long will you stay…?

But I let it all go.

— No, it's not that. Of course… — I lowered my head and mumbled, — …of course I'm glad."

To my vague mumbling, she responded with a wide grin.

— That so? Could've fooled me by that face of yours. Ah, I get it… — she added softly, stepping closer. Bringing her mouth near my ear and shielding it with her hand, she whispered, — you're upset because I'm not in a dress, huh? Or maybe you were hoping I'd show up without anything at all?

I could practically hear my blood roaring inside me, erupting like a geyser in my head. It was one of those awkward moments when I wouldn't have been surprised if it started pouring out my ears.

As for her, she simply burst out laughing, doubling over and steadying herself with a hand on my shoulder.

— I… I… I…

Any attempts to explain myself were cut off at the root. Her ability to turn me into a boiling cauldron of emotion remained entirely intact.

— Oh, sorry, sorry, — she said, wiping a tear from her eye and smiling. — Gods, you're wound up like a spring.

Only then did I realize just how oddly I was behaving.

I had no real reason to be embarrassed. It wasn't as if I was so reclusive that I'd never… well, you know. She had simply caught me off guard! Of course, there might've been other reasons, but let's not get into that now.

There was no awkwardness in her voice, no hostility, no distance. She sounded just as playful as she had before she left. It almost felt like she hadn't heard me talking to myself at all. Like she'd simply had urgent business to attend to, and left without time to warn me.

She seemed perfectly content, while I felt like an abandoned puppy. I experienced firsthand just how differently we understood the situation.

I exhaled—too sharply, enough to almost feel the ghost of a touch against my lips. I was shaking inside, though I tried to keep my face neutral. But what could I do? I knew I had no right to be angry. With a slight shake of my head, brushing my hair back, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my mind.

— Gods, you're such a weirdo.

— So not only do you hold private monologues; you even report to the gods? How wise, — she nodded sagely, propping her chin up with her fingers.

It struck me there was absolutely no meaning in her words. As if, in mimicking me, she'd also chosen to say the very first thing that came to her mind.

If I was being completely honest with myself, there was one troubling thought I just couldn't shake: that she might disappear at any moment. Simply vanish into thin air, as if she'd never existed at all. In other words…

— Are you… planning to stay long?

— Hm? Stay long? — she tilted her head, repeating my words.

— I mean… are you back?

— Back? I never left. I was here the whole time. — She sounded so calm, so certain—like she truly meant every word. But how could that be?

What did she mean by that? Could it really be that I was such a coward, I deliberately refused to see her right in front of me? No, that was absurd. Couldn't be. Then what was she trying to say? I didn't know; it was often hard to grasp her meaning.

"Coward," I heard a sly little voice whisper inside my mind.

But, just like always, I refused to listen.

— How could you be here this whole time? — I asked again, throwing up a hand.

— Just like that. Right here, — she assured me.

— No, that's not true. I… I looked for you. You weren't anywhere.

— Did you really look? — She paused—long enough to make me question myself. But before I could answer, she went on. — Because it seemed more like you were running away.

— Uh, well…

— So which is it? Did you truly search? Did you glance over your shoulder before you bolted? Did you look around at all? Or did you just stare at the floor, hoping to find me hiding between the tiles? Looked more to me like you sank into a mire of self-reproach, found your answer there, and decided that was enough. All right, I'll admit—I did conceal myself later… but not so thoroughly as to disappear entirely. — Despite her reproachful words, she spoke with a calmness and a chill I hadn't felt from her in a long time.

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen, trying to process what she'd said. Of course it was a shock—even to me. But was I truly so pitiful I couldn't own up to it?

It seemed… yes.

Some part of me still wanted to doubt, but I had no choice except to believe her. I'd lost to my own uncertainty—and simply fled. As hesitation gnawed at me, my eyes grew unfocused.

It made sense—foolish, but it made sense.

Was this the moment when I ought to apologize? I didn't know. I wasn't sure. It felt like there was no point. Yet at the same time, I couldn't find any other words.

— Sorr…

She gently raised her hand in front of my face, as if calling for silence.

— No need. There was no lie in your words… but there wasn't any conviction, either. They just… slipped out.

— Yeah, they just… slipped out. I didn't want to burden you. And I didn't want to dwell on it myself. I thought if I left it all alone, we could stay together a little while longer. In the end… that's not what I'm here for, right? — I tried to smile, but it came out strained.

Her hand slowly fell to her side. Turning her head slightly away, she rested her palm against her hip. There was no irritation in her eyes—only a quiet, weary disappointment.

— So that's it? Then why bother? — she asked, tossing her hand up in a loose, almost exasperated gesture.

— Uh… to be reborn and… do something, I guess?

— Really?

She raised an eyebrow—just barely, but with such skepticism that I found myself unconsciously mirroring her, tilting my head a bit as if to say, 'What's wrong with that?'

— It doesn't matter. Let's just move on.

For a moment, her eyes went dim, and so did her voice. Was it because of my admission? Or my careless explanation? Or maybe she heard some hidden reproach in my words? I couldn't tell. Either way, she looked upset. And I—well, I felt guilty. Nothing new there.

Maybe it just meant that neither of us had managed to move forward.

With her hands clasped behind her back, she walked uncertainly over to the table. Lowering herself onto a chair, she began twirling the ends of her ponytail around her finger, her eyes fixed on the sky. The clouds were gathering there again.

Was that… a sign? A bad one?

She didn't invite me to join her. But this time, I didn't need an invitation.

— You know, — she began, before I could even sit down, — I don't actually know how to summon the souls of people from another world. And… honestly, I didn't even know they existed.

— Huh?

I was halfway bent over, gripping the back of the chair, unable to close my mouth in shock.

— Wait… what are you saying? Then…

— I don't know, — she cut me off, squeezing her eyes shut. — I don't know… you just ended up here. That's all. — Her last words came out soft, almost swallowed.

Her gaze darted back and forth between me and the window while I tried to process what she'd just said. Deep down, I'd always sort of idolized her—after witnessing her magic, how could I not? But hearing that she wasn't all-powerful didn't disappoint me. If anything, it just left me… confused.

And yet, one thing remained unclear:

Why was I here at all?

And how?

A moment later, resignation settled over me. If even she didn't know, what chance did I have of figuring it out?

— I don't know where we are, — she began, and I instinctively turned to look at her. — When I first ended up here, I thought I was already dead. There was nothing around me—just endless darkness. No matter how far I ran, there wasn't even a hint of light. Until one day, a voice in my head said, 'Begin anew, and find your peace, child. No one will disturb you here.' It wasn't my own voice—though by then, I'd almost forgotten what that sounded like…"

I propped my chin on my palm, listening without interrupting. My mind was empty—only a strange, tingling sensation remained. I couldn't help comparing her story to my own. After all, I'd ended up in the same kind of situation. Only in my case, it wasn't darkness that guided me—it was tiny specks of light glowing in the distance. But now, I was less and less sure who those lights actually belonged to.

— ...And so, I created the place I loved most. I just waved my hands around, and one by one, the landscapes formed—until finally, the Moonlit Lake appeared.

I couldn't help a small giggle, picturing this usually composed girl suddenly flailing her arms around like a windmill. She shot me a mildly disdainful look, narrowing her eyes, and I quickly fell silent to let her continue.

— At first, everything seemed perfect… but before long, I felt lonely. Not a single attempt to create life ever worked. I couldn't even make an insect to buzz nearby and break the silence. All I wanted was… a friend.

She fell quiet. Maybe she was waiting for some reaction from me—or perhaps a question—but I still didn't fully grasp what was happening, so I simply gave her a small nod that meant, "Go on."

— And I guess… this place heard my pleas. A soul appeared. To be honest, I was terrified, — she admitted, giving a nervous little laugh as she scratched her cheek with a finger. — It was so exciting and… repulsive at the same time. I was terrified you wouldn't be happy here, that I'd bore you, that you'd hate me for dragging you into this… All those thoughts gnawed at me from the inside, like tiny worms… But after watching you for a while, I realized you weren't so bad.

She smiled so innocently, so sincerely, that for a second I thought I could actually hear my own heart beating again. And with that came the realization—I'd ruined everything. I'd crossed a line, betrayed her trust. It wouldn't have surprised me if I'd been whisked away to another world right then and there, without so much as a goodbye. But she didn't do that. Instead, she was trying to open up to me. And I was… well, unreliable, to put it mildly.

— So you knew how this would all end from the start?

— Do I look like some kind of seer to you?

— Uh? No, probably not? — I replied uncertainly. — Though is that something you can tell just by looking? Like, they'd have tarot cards in their pockets or a crystal ball under their arm? — I waved a hand dramatically over my palm, as if peering into an imaginary glass orb.

It was a stupid, forced joke—but it managed to lighten the mood all the same. Sure, there was a chance she was laughing more at me than with me, but did that really matter?

At the same time, I noticed the sky had cleared again. I hadn't caught exactly when it happened, but I was starting to understand why it did.

— You're the same fool you've always been, — she said, laughing.

— Gods, how rude. I'll have you know it's an art form, — I announced proudly.

She didn't comment on that, just nodded in a way that was oddly understanding. I couldn't quite read her face—was it sympathy? surprise?—but somehow, that offended me all the same.

Still, after a small hesitation, I repeated my question:

— Then why did you want to get rid of me if you'd waited so long for a friend?

It was kind of amusing to watch how many different expressions flickered across her face in just a few seconds. But it was enough for me that right now, she didn't look upset.

— Well, you see… this might sound strange, but… you seemed even deader than you actually were. How do I put this… like not only your body stayed behind on your planet, but all of you. You were so gloomy and withdrawn…

— What? Says the one who acted like a real Snow Queen! — I snorted.

— That's your fault, — she pouted. — I was so happy just to have someone to talk to, but you built a fortress around yourself—never letting anyone in or stepping out. You kept thinking, thinking, only noticing yourself. And your random little comments would catch me so off guard… — she explained, still puffing out her cheeks.

Whichever way I looked at it, it made sense. I didn't know what might've changed if she'd been like this from the very beginning. Maybe she would've scared me off, and we never would have gotten along at all.

Even after her explanation, I didn't have fewer questions. No matter how carefully I tried to piece together the shards of this broken shell, it all still seemed fragmented. It felt endless—the more I tried to think, the less I understood.

Neither of us knew where we were or why we'd ended up here. Was there even a way out of this place—and… did we really need one?

No. We did. As long as I stayed here with her, her wish would never come true. I was only in the way.

— You worry too much about things that haven't even happened yet. Did I ever say you were in the way?

— No, but…

— But what? You want me to say it? That you ruined everything?

— Mmmm, yeah. You took the words right out of my mouth.

— You can be so insufferable sometimes. Do you always have to be this complicated? — She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. — But you're right—there is something only you can do. Bring her back.

Something only I could do? Bring someone back?

It would've been a lot easier if she actually made sense.

Usually, in moments like these, it was as if my ears magically stuffed themselves with cotton. My attention drifted to anything but the words being spoken. Moonlight streamed through the window, blending with the warm glow of the lamp, weaving together on the sill into a pattern that was both warm and cold. I wanted to become part of it, to dissolve into it.

But nothing would change if I did nothing.

— Who? — I finally asked.

— The doll.

I lifted my head hesitantly and just froze, staring at her wide-eyed.

— ...What?

— The doll, — she repeated. — The one you rejected yourself and locked away in a drawer to rot. The one who used to dream without fear, who fell and stood up again, believing the best was still ahead. You didn't just forget her—you abandoned her. And now you look for her pieces in others: in random faces, empty conversations… in me. But it doesn't work that way. — She lowered her head, shaking it slowly. — You can't change if there's nothing left to change. And no one can give back what you chose to take from yourself.

'Well, aren't you quite the philosopher,' was the first thought that popped into my head. But seeing her face, I quickly let it go.

In general, her words were clear enough, but that didn't make them any less eerie.

The doll she spoke of—she meant me. That inner child who, even trapped in the lifeless shell of an old man, could still dream of a far-off future.

And you didn't need to be a mind reader to see that—it was painfully obvious.

I'd always thought of myself as just an ordinary person. Neither my looks nor my personality set me apart from the crowd. But the part she talked about—

It didn't make me special. If anything, it exposed me as a questionable sort.

— You sound like an old man saying things were better back in the day, — I tried to joke.

— Tell me, who do you think is easiest to influence? — With a faint shadow crossing her face, she turned to stare out the window. — Not the weak. Not the foolish. But those who try too hard to be 'right.'

She looked far too serious to keep joking around. For some reason, it became hard to sit still, like an army of ants had decided to march up and down my body. Pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them, I rested my chin on them, still listening, absentmindedly wiggling my toes.

— Those who read the room's mood, say what's expected, and stay silent even when everything inside them is burning. At first, it's survival. Then it becomes a habit. And before you know it, you can't tell where you end and the mask begins.

Speaking in riddles again, she only led me deeper into confusion. I hadn't asked a straight question, but I also hadn't gotten anything close to an answer about the doll.

Curling in on myself a little more, I grew anxious—anxious about where this was heading.

— What are you trying to say? — I pressed.

She turned back to me. From the intensity of her gaze, I instinctively shrank.

— By changing your colors to match your surroundings, you forget your own.

Her answer made me tilt my head to the side. I shrugged slightly, giving a small shake, as if to say: "What?"

— You knew how to play with people's feelings once, — she said. — Not out of cruelty—out of instinct. To survive. But then you started avoiding even the shadow of conflict. You didn't become gentle; you became transparent. From predator to prey.

My lips began to tremble, as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. I realized I didn't want to hear any more—but it was already too late.

— You didn't even notice when you lost yourself, did you? You stopped mimicking the room—you became it. Dissolved. What drove you to that? Growing up? Wanting to keep yourself safe?

And how did that work out? They used you. Took advantage of your kindness, your weakness, your trust—and threw you away, accusing you of theft. And by the time they cleared your name… it was too late. That stain doesn't wash out with papers. It stayed in you. In every look. In every 'what if.'

How I wished the world were simpler. That an adult's lie was just a child's prank, harmless, leaving nothing behind. That words didn't grow thorns with age, like wild roses. But life didn't work that way. Skin toughens, but inside—everything only gets thinner. And every needle feels like a dagger.

I knew where she was going with this. It was clear as day.

I had nothing left but to smile—a weak, strained smile.

I laughed, thinking back on that time. But there was no point in lying—the stain was still there. In every smile I saw fangs, in every outstretched hand—claws. Even the mere brush of hair across my skin set off alarm bells.

So to protect myself, I bared my calloused, deadened patches of skin, building an unassailable fortress out of them.

— And? So what? Why do you want me to become a monster like them? You want to use me? Think I'll let you? — I dropped my feet to the floor, bracing my hands against the seat of the chair.

— Of course. Right now you're completely my puppet.

She nodded, then gave a mischievous little smirk that made me scowl.

— But no. This will let us grow closer.

— How? Are we on bad terms now?

— How to put it… — she tapped her chin thoughtfully. — Taking a single step toward someone only to run away again—it's hard to call that a good relationship. Normal, maybe? — She tilted her head, giving me a reproachful look.

I had nothing to counter with. I wished I could say she'd cornered me. That would've been easier. But the truth was—I'd walked into that corner myself. Of my own free will.

I needed to be braver. Needed to learn how to connect again.

I guessed that was what she'd been trying to tell me all along.

I ran a hand through my hair, as if brushing it back, and gave a couple short nods—my way of saying "Alright."

— After I live this new life… will we be able to meet again?

— Would you want that? — she asked, a sly smile on her lips.

— Of course, — I answered without even thinking.

She set her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest, looking ridiculously pleased with herself.

— That's all up to you, — she nodded. — Will you be able to say that again after you've lived a whole new life and met all sorts of new people?

— Hm… who knows?

She blinked—clearly not expecting that. Then her eyes narrowed into a suspicious little squint.

— Whoa, look at you. That's so confident it makes me wanna punch you.

— No, no, wait. That's not what you think! — I frantically waved my hands as if fending her off. — It's just—I think promises are for people who don't actually plan to keep them. — I scratched the back of my head, eyes darting aside. — All those vows and oaths—they're just ways to soothe your own and everyone else's fears. And when they break them, they hide behind that cowardly, convenient excuse: 'Guess it was fate.' So I'll just… try. Okay?

— Hmph, hmph. — She gave an approving nod. — That's very honest of you. Alright—I'll accept that answer.

— And what would've happened if you hadn't?

— O-ho-ho-ho-ho, — Her proud little laugh quickly crumbled into an uncertain grimace. — I… hadn't thought that far.

Sometimes she seemed far less reasonable than she liked to appear. But the scowl that followed made me quickly retract my thoughts and offer an awkward little scratch on the cheek, telling her silently with my eyes: "Sorry."

— Now, on to the important part…

I nodded, signaling I was ready to listen.

— …as you should've figured out by now, this world is very different from the one you're used to.

I suppose you could compare it to medieval Europe—an age of colonization. Also, the age of myths and legends about wondrous creatures. While your world is ruled by technology, here the very foundation of everything is magic.

But I think, thanks to human imagination captured on paper, you probably know at least as much about that as I do.

When she finished, I waited a few more moments—expecting more. Some details, an explanation, anything. But time passed, and she stayed silent. I scrunched up my face in confusion, as if asking: "That's it?"

— Um, well, you know… — she fumbled. — I don't even know how long it's been since I was there. Maybe by now they've come up with technology too, who knows? Heh-heh… — She scratched the back of her head, laughing awkwardly.

— Oh, hm… — after a brief pause, I continued, — Guess I'll just deal with problems as they come.

— I'm sorry… I know this isn't what you wanted. Because of my selfish desires, you ended up here, stuck—now facing a journey in a world completely unknown to you. But you're right… in their essence, they're alike. — She lowered her head as she spoke.

— Oh, so you're feeling guilty, huh? In that case, I'll just take advantage of that guilt and stay right here. — I declared this with firm resolve, peeking at her from under a half-lidded eye.

In bewilderment, she stared at me, eyes wide—and I couldn't keep a straight face for long. Hunching over, I struggled to hold back laughter so I wouldn't wound her pride too much.

— Whew, just kidding. You know, I've gotta become a super-awesome mage myself, so that next time we meet, you won't seem like such a big shot.

She instantly snapped back to life after my words, striking a defensive pose:

— Ha? As if! And just where do you think you're going to get magic?

— Hm? Good question, where will I? — I scratched my chin before jokingly adding: — I'm the chosen one with a natural aptitude for magic?

— Pfft, you? A pathetic drifter drowning in depression! I'm the one who'll let you use magic! — She jabbed a thumb proudly into her chest.

— Oh, well then—I'm doomed, — I said dramatically. — Reading minds and running away—truly invaluable talents.

— …What was that you said?

Right then, it felt like the very air around me thickened and pressed in. A vein pulsed visibly on her forehead, making it perfectly clear I'd struck a nerve. The moment her fingers twitched, an unseen force snatched me up off the ground. Only then did I notice the fine, snowy-white threads—almost invisible in the dim light—that began wrapping around my limbs.

Cold to the touch, and despite their fragile appearance, impossibly strong. They stretched from her fingertips and vanished into nothingness, as though existing in another dimension altogether.

She pulled me taut in midair like a puppet: arms spread wide, legs hanging down, as if she might actually quarter me. A nasty bead of sweat slid down my spine at the sudden tension.

— Convinced now, you cheeky brat? — She flashed a predatory grin. — You can think of this as something like a natural talent. Even without using actual magic, these threads can be your shield.

— Ho-ho-ho, I told you—I'm the chosen one, — I smirked, continuing to tease her.

In response, the threads gave a sharp tug, making me flinch, and one of them promptly wrapped around my mouth—gentle, yet firm—cutting off any further words. The girl let out a satisfied huff, folding her arms across her chest.

— Despite that overly chatty mouth of yours, you're just a weakling who can't even stand up for himself. I wouldn't be surprised if by tomorrow you're already camped out at my doorstep, — she said, wearing an exaggerated look of pity.

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling.

Sure, I was quick with my tongue, but I always knew where and how to use it—strange as that might sound. And while seeing her again so soon wouldn't exactly be unpleasant, I wasn't keen on ending my rebirth right after it began—like an unlucky baby giraffe.

Still, keeping up the game, I nodded as if to say: That's the plan.

— Ugh, fine.

For her, it was second nature—to cut away the unnecessary and leave only what mattered. At first, it unsettled me how precise her slices were. But over time, I realized she wasn't as ruthless as she might appear.

Slowly, as if lowering me on invisible ropes, she set me back onto the chair. I clenched my fists and gave my legs a little wiggle—just to make sure everything was still attached.

— Now it's your turn, — she said.

— Hm?

— This is your future ability. Why are you acting so surprised?

She actually had a point—why was I surprised?

— You've heard it before, right? When learning to wield a sword, you're told to see it as an extension of your body. Same thing here. Imagine yourself reaching for something. Touching it. Then just… let the threads handle the rest.

— Hmph. — I nodded.

Stretching my hand forward, I shut my eyes tight. Images flickered through my mind—window latch, chair back, cabinet door… but I chose her. I pictured a slender thread snaking out, wrapping around her wrist like a gentle little viper. Then, with a sharp flick, I swept my hand—just like some comic book hero—and waited.

A laugh rang out. Bright, genuine.

— Gods, you're so gullible.

I opened my eyes. It felt like all the blood drained from my face, leaving behind only cold and a slight tremor. Her laughter made me shrink into myself—I pulled my hand back, drew my knees up and buried my face in them.

— Shut up, — I whimpered.

— You really thought you were the chosen one and all those powers were hidden inside you, Mr. Anderson? — she giggled, placing her hand on my knee.

— Go away, — I muttered into my knees, pulling them tighter and nearly tipping off the chair.

— Oh come on, stop sulking. I was just teasing. Now, give me your hand.

— No. You'll just make fun of me again, — I mumbled into my legs.

— Oh for heaven's sake—come on already, — she urged, sounding increasingly impatient.

When I finally lifted my eyes, I found myself staring at her outstretched hand. Lately, it had become hard to stay calm around her. Actually, if I was honest, it had always been hard. But lately… even more so.

Feeling a flutter of unease, I reached out and placed my hand in hers.

— Bleh.

She stuck out her tongue, making a teasing noise. I jerked, about to snatch my hand back, but she immediately tightened her grip around my wrist—laughing again, delighting in my discomfort.

Her entire face sparkled with mirth—even her eyes danced. Meanwhile, mine probably looked downright tortured.

— Didn't you want to touch my wrist? So why are you trying to run away again? — she finally asked once she'd calmed down.

— Nothing of the sort. You were just… closest, that's all, — I muttered, still vainly trying to free my hand.

— Oh really? Is that so?

With a sly grin, she let her fingers slowly trail down to my palm. When our fingers intertwined, a strange warmth rushed through my arm and spread all throughout my body. But then—flash.

A blinding light slammed into my eyes, like someone had fired a cannon point-blank into my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it did nothing—the light felt like it was burning through my skull from the inside out.

For a moment, it seemed like I wasn't here at all—like I was inside myself. Images flitted by: threads wrapped around my organs, weaving a sticky web. The more I tried to brush them off, the more they multiplied. They were everywhere, as if I'd stumbled into some monstrous spider's lair. And at the very end—I became part of them, sinking into a cocoon.

I screamed when foreign voices flooded my head, merging into one sharp, deafening shriek. Pain followed—fast and vicious. I grabbed at my hair with my free hand, struggling not to black out.

And then—it all stopped.

I opened my eyes, darting them around in alarm. My head and body were perfectly fine, as if everything had only been in my imagination. I looked down and saw delicate threads dancing peacefully at my fingertips. They swayed through the air like seaweed deep underwater. I clenched my hand—still there. Opened it—no change. They moved on their own. And now, they were mine.

— Are you okay? — her voice came, tinged with worry.

I gave a weak nod, finally meeting her eyes. The awkward, hopeful smile she offered made me wonder just how pitiful I must've looked to make her fret over me at all. Still, I decided it didn't matter. Who cared how clumsily you crawled your way to the top—as long as you got there, right?

— So… these little strings are just gonna poke out of my fingers forever? I look like a battered old teddy bear.

— You think so? More like… Oh, hang on.

A marker materialized out of thin air in her hands. She popped off the cap, held it between her lips, and motioned for me to give her my hands. I eyed her warily, but obeyed. It tickled a bit as she ran the tip over my skin. I could only guess what she was drawing… circles? Hm.

When she finished, she pulled back and surveyed her work with a tiny nod—like a real artist admiring her masterpiece. The marker vanished, cap and all, as abruptly as it had come. I couldn't help wondering—why had she bothered holding it in her mouth at all?

— Go on, take a look, — she said, turning my palms toward me. — Now you've got two extra pairs of eyes and the most enchanting lashes.

— How adorable… No, seriously. — I pulled my hands back onto my knees. — Will they always stick out like this?

— Maybe yes, maybe no. Depends on, well… if you can trust me again, — she giggled shyly, tapping her index fingers together. — But I really don't think they'll be there forever. Honestly.

Her attempt to reassure me made me tilt my head skeptically. Her words were so light, they did nothing to chase away my doubts.

— Trust you, huh? — I shook my head in defeat. — It's not that I don't trust you after all your little antics, it's just… hmm, maybe I've become a bit more selective? — I offered.

— Perfect, then give me your hand, — she said, extending her palm, wiggling her fingers in invitation.

— What? Again? — I squeaked.

— Oh please, as if you don't like it! — she scoffed. — You said you trusted me!

— Tch…

I muttered something unintelligible even to myself, trying—and failing—to deny it. Of course I wanted to hold her hand. Just… not something I was eager to admit out loud. Or maybe, that's exactly what I should've done? I wasn't sure.

I glanced once more at her waiting hand—and, with an uncertain motion, placed mine in hers.

— See? That wasn't scary at all. Such a softie.

— Pfft, shut up. I wasn't scared of anything!

She suddenly squeezed my hand, catching me off guard, throwing all my punctuation into chaos. I had to admit… it felt pretty nice. I shook my head quickly, brushing off the thought like dust.

Instead, I focused on our hands. Every time, her fingers felt different, yet always gentle, a little cool to the touch. As our palms remained pressed together, that faint chill gradually faded. It made me wonder—maybe the soul was part of the body's warmth too?

Right, the threads.

I stared intently at our hands, trying not to get distracted by anything else. But time passed, and nothing changed—the threads still stuck out from my fingers. It was like she didn't even know what to do next.

— Um?

— Hm? Not working? — she asked without looking away.

Her question threw me. Was she asking me or herself?

— Not working how? — I asked uncertainly.

— What do you mean, how? Hiding the threads.

— And how was I supposed to do that? — I finally clarified.

— What? Oh… O… I didn't tell you, did I? — She scratched her temple with her free hand and let out a little giggle.

My anxious mind dove down the rabbit hole, only to come back up more confused than ever. Maybe she had explained it while my head was lost in how her hand felt? That was… likely.

— Imagination, — she suddenly declared, drawing a circle in the air with her free hand. — That's the heart of magic. Just like whole cities rose and fell the moment I pictured them, these threads will disappear if you simply ask them to.

So to make them vanish, all I had to do was want it? That simple?

Of course, my first goal was to return my fingers to normal, but it seemed dumb not to take her earlier advice and practice a bit. Right—practice. Nothing more.

My limbs went numb as all my attention zeroed in on her wrist. I could hear the grinding of my own teeth—my body tensed to its limit, desperately trying to make the threads move at all. It was like trying to wiggle my hair without using my hands.

It felt like veins were about to pop on my forehead and temples. But I wasn't about to admit what else it felt like.

In the end, giving up was easier. Hiding the threads turned out to be far simpler than forcing them to move.

— See? Wasn't so hard, — she nodded approvingly. — Though you took longer than expected.

— What now?

— Learn to use them, — she said with a sly grin, patting my hand before pulling hers away.

Her answer left me stunned. I sat there with my mouth open, unable to utter a word.

She leaned in closer, her face glowing with triumphant mischief as she laid her hand on my shoulder.

— And you thought I wouldn't notice those sneaky little thoughts of yours, huh? 'Just practice. Nothing more,' — she mocked me, patting my shoulder again before easing back.

Her smirk remained. My face twisted into some vague grimace—and suddenly it hit me.

— So what? I just wanted to hold your hand—is that so bad? — I shot back defiantly, more out of defense than anything else.

— If it makes it easier for you, — she shrugged and placed her hand back in mine.

Despite her playful attitude earlier, now she sounded indifferent. Her hand settled into mine as casually as if greeting a coworker. Once again, I realized how differently we were experiencing this.

While she watched my face intently, I turned to my imagination. It was no surprise she was there too—well, her wrist anyway. I pictured wrapping around it, wondering how tightly they should grip, what kind of mark to leave, or if they should remain weightless. I had to admit—it was no easy task.

In my mind, everything worked. But in reality? Nothing happened. I even started to think the threads had completely dissolved back inside me.

— Not working, — I muttered.

— Then invent them, — she threw back.

— What do you mean invent? They already exist, don't they?

— What you've seen so far is just a hint. They're not 'real' yet. Imagine what they're supposed to be like: thin or thick, taut or pliable. What color are they? Smooth or rough? The clearer you picture them, the easier it'll be to control them.

Her explanation didn't exactly inspire me. How the hell was I supposed to know what they should be made of? What they were supposed to be? If, say, I imagined diamonds for strength, would they turn into claws? Let them grow far enough, and I'd probably just faceplant into the dirt under their weight.

An unexpected flick to my forehead yanked me right out of my tangled thoughts, leaving me staring blankly at the girl.

— Hey! What was that for?

— Your imagination is way too primitive. That's not how magic works. You just need to give them shape, name them, and they'll choose their own substance. The stronger you get, the stronger they'll be. Who in their right mind would swing around giant heavy claws?

I went back to square one, mulling over her words properly—by the time her power lifted me off the ground.

Her threads were thin yet sturdy, a little cool, and almost invisible. I wondered if she'd notice if mine turned out just like hers. Probably not. Even if she glimpsed it in my thoughts, I doubted she'd care much. As for me… I simply wanted something to tie us together, even when we were far apart.

Little by little, colorless threads began to stretch from my fingertips toward her wrist. I could barely feel them. I'd half-expected it to hurt, like growing adamant claws from my skin.

They were inspired by what I'd seen, but turned out quite different. Their structure seemed fragile—any grown adult could probably snap them without effort. And the color… it was hard to say if they even had one. All I could see was a faint glimmer on her sleeve, like cloth catching on a clear fishing line.

— Oh, wow. You actually pulled it off, huh?

— Yeah, looks like it, — I nodded.

— You actually pulled it off.

She repeated it, more serious this time, but gently. I stared at her in confusion, trying to figure out why, only to get a short giggle in return.

The threads quietly dissolved. Her soft laugh slipped out, making me drop my gaze even more.

— Guess you can only manage one thing at a time, — she said with a series of little nods. — Not very practical.

I couldn't be sure, but for some reason it felt like I'd just been lightly put in my place. Before I could come up with a retort, she went on.

— Well, that's to be expected. For now—they're just seeds. The shoots will come when your magic truly awakens. — She shrugged easily as her laughter faded completely.

Putting aside everything that had happened, my eyes lit up with excitement. Wait, no—with delight. Either way, I couldn't wait to find out what it would be.

— So? What's it gonna be? Some kind of teleportation? Maybe stealth? Or mind control through the threads?

— Hm? Maybe. I think.

Unlike me, there wasn't a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. If fear, joy, sorrow, and anger were the four seasons, then she sounded like the climate on Uranus.

Sometimes it felt like I was living in slow motion, while she was stuck on fast forward. I'd be mired in thought, and she'd already have grown bored after a whole day of idling. Hm… What if that was actually true?

— So, any specifics?

— It'll be magic, — she announced carelessly with a shrug.

— Oh wow, how delightfully detailed. Thanks, — I nodded, not because I understood, but purely to mock her.

— You think? Well, I tried my best.

She fluttered her hand dismissively, like waving off a swarm of admirers, and giggled. I was still struggling to keep up with her mood swings—it was like getting snowed on one second, only to start sweating from the heat the next.

— Magic is imagination, — she repeated for the umpteenth time, but now I actually understood what she meant.

— So, what about this awakening? Will it unlock some particular type or something?

— An element, to be precise. — Her face suddenly turned serious, as if we'd jumped from a playful tease to something truly important. — The world is roughly divided into six: Water, Fire, Air, Earth, Light, and Darkness.

She began counting off on her fingers, but when she fell short by one, she blinked blankly. Frowning, she squinted at me as though to say, "You didn't see that."

Of course, I hadn't seen a thing. But I had to admit—it was… pretty cute.

— Your element determines a lot, — she went on, lowering her hand to her knee. — Water, for example, can call rain. Gentle—to feed the earth. Cold—to break a fever. Or heavy and sharp—to strike down an enemy. Light—it can heal. Or burn if it's too bright. As for fire and earth… — from her pensive look, I could tell she was mentally flipping through possible uses, — …they mostly just scorch and smash, — she finally concluded. — And air… well, if a dense gust smacks you in the face, no one's gonna be happy about it.

— Got it. And darkness?

— Darkness…

Her voice was strikingly harsh just then. From the lines under her eyes, I could tell how hard it was for her. Maybe it was this so-called darkness that had trapped her here in the first place.

— You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.

— Actually, you're already a dark mage, — she said, smiling in a way that seemed to mask her real expression.

— Hm? Not quite what you were hoping for, huh? — I forced a grin at her.

I didn't mind, personally. Despite the destruction they caused, I understood: fire could warm you in winter, walls of earth could shield you from the wind, air could calm a storm. And darkness? Maybe it was like poison—deadly to most living things. But poison could also be medicine, if you knew how to use it.

— Ho?

She looked genuinely surprised. Why? No idea.

— Truth is, there was never any other outcome, — she declared proudly. After a brief pause, her face softened. — Doesn't the word 'darkness' speak for itself?

— And what exactly is it supposed to tell me?

— Evil, — she whispered.

Evil, huh?

I didn't object, but I did start to wonder.

No one's born a villain or a saint—it's life that makes those choices for us: environment, power, loneliness.

But… what if things were different in this world?

If it only takes a drop of blood for a predator to mark you as prey—

couldn't a single drop of evil awaken a monster in a man?

I lowered my head. My shoulders slumped as if sighing for me.

Even if I was destined to become the enemy of the whole world—this power made more sense than all the others.

Her power. She'd given it to me.

And that was enough.

— Then I'll be that, — I lifted my head and smiled. — Sometimes the only thing that can stand against evil… is another evil.

— You really do overthink everything, — she said with a nervous laugh. — It's just prejudice, you know?

She raised her hand to her neck, tracing her fingers across it like she was trying to squeeze the words out.

— Sure, your environment and power can influence you. But mostly it comes from you, — she reached out and jabbed a finger into my chest. — Your hell isn't underground—it's in your subconscious. Only you can make yourself into something, not other people's labels.

— I get it, — I nodded quickly. After a second of thought, I added, — Then what was all that about? The whole 'evil,' 'dark mage' thing?

— I wanted to see if you'd crack under pressure right from the start, — she answered offhandedly.

— Sounds like you're basically sending me to my doom. Pretty convenient way to get rid of me, huh?

— It's a breath of air… before you decide whether to swim—or sink.

So she'd heard every word, even the ones I hadn't spoken out loud, huh?

That was… disheartening. But on the other hand, it gave me hope. The way she said it, it almost sounded like I really could come back.

— I see, — I nodded.

— Come on. — She stood up quickly and held her hand out to me. — You've spent long enough inside these walls.

I raised an eyebrow at her, studying her expression, but didn't argue. Taking her hand, we transgressed.

Honestly, I still wasn't sure why exactly that word had surfaced in my mind. It wasn't like a scene from a movie or a game—no flash, no sound—just suddenly, we were someplace else entirely.

We stood on a cliff. Higher than any place I'd ever been.

Shielding my eyes from the wind with a hand, I looked around. Before me stretched a breathtaking, unfamiliar landscape.

The forest below was like a living sea: the sharp crowns of the trees swayed in the wind, and deep among the trunks tiny blue lights glimmered. I squinted, trying to figure out what they were—plants? flickers of magic?—but I couldn't make them out. Still… it looked enchanting.

— Feels like an eternity, doesn't it?

I turned to her in surprise. She wasn't looking at the forest.

I followed her gaze—and only then did I realize where we were.

Beyond the cliff lay the Moon Lake. It was exactly as it had been back then. Its center remained calm while waves roared along the shore. Looking down, I watched the water churn and foam beneath us. It was a clear reminder of how two natures—tranquility and fury—could coexist in a single living being.

— In truth, only a century. Maybe a bit more. — She smiled broadly, turning to me.

My first instinct was to be surprised, but I quickly brushed it off.

— Yeah. An eternity.

She gave a small nod toward the very edge of the cliff, where a string of uneven hollows formed a sort of cozy nook—almost as if the rock had been carved out just for resting. I settled on one of the ledges, legs dangling over, hands gripping the edge to keep my balance. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair, and slender strands of her hair brushed against my cheek and neck. I shivered at the ticklish sensation.

Noticing this, she pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt to hide her hair. All I could see was the sharp tip of her nose poking out from under the fabric. It was cute, and oddly funny.

— So, the tunnel to that world is through that bottomless chasm? I'll have to fall into it again?

— Oh? Would you like that?

— Honestly… I'd rather skip the repeat.

— Hee-hee, thought so. Don't worry—there are other ways, probably.

Her words didn't exactly inspire confidence, but I didn't press. I had no reason to doubt her.

Right here, right now, in this very place, I felt true bliss. I wished this moment could last forever—a moment where there was only me, and only her.

— Spellcrafter, — she suddenly said.

— Hm?

— I want you to remember that. It's not words that create magic—it's imagination. Even if someone tries to convince you that spells are all written in grimoires, let that useless title remind you of what I've said.

— Got it, — I gave a brief nod. — I'll remember.

With every new ability, I felt our parting drawing closer. Whether it was the wind or something else, my eyes grew damp. Maybe I was just overreacting to everything, but it was too late to hide it. I only hoped that under her hood, she hadn't noticed.

I quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and stretched up, as if trying to work the stiffness from my muscles.

— That all you wanted to tell me? — I asked.

— Mmmm. — She hummed, then: — Martial artist.

— Hm? In a world of magic? What for?

— Don't rely on magic alone. Someone might strike before you can even snap your fingers. Be ready for anything.

— All right. I understand.

For obvious reasons, we couldn't keep up a normal conversation. What was usually a light, playful atmosphere now felt heavy, like the air was thick with dust.

It was strange realizing how this girl had become both my driving force and my anchor. She was leading me somewhere I never thought I could reach. And though I wanted to be there to see where there was—I couldn't stop fearing that I'd have to finish the journey alone.

For the next few moments, we didn't say anything.

Talking had been the whole reason we'd come here, yet even for her, it was hard to ease the weight in the air.

Whatever potential there was for conversation, it simply plummeted off the cliff—only to be drowned out by the roar of the waves below.

I picked up a small stone and carefully rolled it down. It hopped along the ledges, bouncing lower and lower, until it vanished from sight, becoming part of the dark rock.

I wondered how things might have turned out if I hadn't confessed to her back then. Why had I done that, and not something else? It's the sort of question that eventually comes for everyone.

But the truth was, nothing would have changed. The person I was now was just a pale shadow of who I used to be. The fact that I managed to open up to her, even a little, wasn't my own doing. If she hadn't been so persistent in pushing into my thoughts, we'd still be stuck in the same place we first met.

I tolerated anyone who wanted to get close to me. But don't expect me to be the one to initiate anything. That simple constant was what made me "convenient"—convenient, but never genuine.

So how? How could it all have turned out differently?

All these thoughts, like the waves below us, found no outlet—they built up speed only to crash against some unseen barrier.

The life waiting for me ahead would be completely different. There… time would become time again. Every second would feel like a second, every day like a day.

But here, next to her, it was all different. A place where a century could feel like an instant. Where I couldn't tell a beginning from an end.

Now… all that was losing its meaning. Because no matter how we'd arrived at this point, the outcome of today was clear. Most of the time, no matter how hard we tried, we were powerless to change fate.

— Can we stay like this a little longer? — I asked, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

— For as long as you want.

— Even… forever? — I asked with a small, joking smile.

— In our case, even longer than that, if such a thing is possible. But you understand, don't you?

All this time, she hadn't once looked at me. Even now, her eyes were fixed on distant horizons only she could see. All I could do was wonder—maybe one day, I'd see them too.

— Yeah, — I murmured, resting my chin on my knees.

I knew there was no point in stalling. The longer I stayed by her side, the heavier the parting felt. Usually, it was never hard for me to walk away, but now I couldn't summon the courage to say a simple "See you later." Maybe because I wasn't sure those words would be true. Or maybe because I didn't know what kind of person I'd be when I came back.

One thing was certain: we would never meet again as we were right now.

She pulled down her hood and turned to face me. I thought her eyes looked a little red. Once, I'd wanted her honest feelings to be directed at me. But seeing her smile now, it felt like a hole had opened up in my chest. Just as raw and aching as the hollow that remained where the Moon Lake used to be.

I gave her a faint smile. Or at least I thought I did. Honestly, I'd lost connection to my own face, to the rest of my body too.

She rose from the edge of the cliff and slowly stepped closer. Her hand suddenly seized the collar of my shirt—so tightly that for a moment, I actually pictured her lifting me right off the ground and hurling me over the horizon—direct flight to another world. My eyes widened, my body tensed. Her fingers were trembling—and for a second I almost believed she really might...

But instead… her face drew closer.

I froze, watching it come nearer and nearer, a new and completely insane theory sparking in my mind. Of course I knew nothing like that was going to happen, but even so, my nerves were on edge. My arms hung limp at my sides, as if paralyzed. When she shifted slightly off to the side, I swallowed—loudly.

— Sweet dreams. And don't forget this night, when you greet the dawn again.

And then her lips touched my forehead.

All I could see was her chin, her pale neck. I wanted to savor the moment—but my skin had turned to armor from the tension. Still, there was something truly warm about it.

Then, a white ring of light softly flared where she'd kissed me—and washed over my body like a wave. In the next instant, it hurled me backward. I glimpsed the night sky before I even had a chance to look at her face one last time.

.

A wasteland.

Cold. Gray. Endless, soundless. Everything around me was swallowed by pitch-black darkness. And somewhere out there—a solitary door.

Maybe this was the other tunnel she had spoken of.

For the first time in what felt like forever, a real chill crept into my lungs. I walked, feeling my skin grow coated in invisible frost, as though the very air was trying to turn me into a statue and bury me in its glaciers.

The sight of this dead landscape stirred something inside me. Something distant and long forgotten.

I'd just moved to a new city then. Standing in the middle of unfamiliar streets, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, I felt like the whole world had rejected me. It seemed there was no one who wanted to notice me. No one who wanted to remember.

I realized I had believed family and friendship were unconditional. But that was a lie. I had to give everything—down to the last drop. Only then could I be part of something. Maybe not even then.

And when I was too far away for anyone to get anything from me, I understood: every bond comes with conditions. Ever since, my instinct for self-preservation hadn't let me trust completely. I stopped seeing the point of relationships, when even blood ties could snap in an instant.

Maybe I still couldn't say I fully trusted this girl. But some part of me… was choosing to.

Love isn't a decision. It's a spark. It doesn't come on command. And if something in me had chosen her—then I wanted to try. One more time. One last time.

It was stupid—to follow someone whose name you didn't even know. But… a name doesn't make the person.

I looked back. There was no one there. Maybe I just wanted to believe she was somewhere behind me, waving carelessly. Or that she'd say something silly again—something that would make things feel a little lighter.

But she wasn't there.

That face of hers still hovered in my mind. Obviously, even if she had wanted to, she couldn't be here. Just like I couldn't stay.