"DING DONG"
A voice echoed out from the bell church,
A flock of birds flying after hearing it.
GASP
Then, a boy woke up—not from dreams nor from a place of comfort but to the same life he always knew: one without choices, only the endless cycle of waking up and enduring suffering.
For him, the world was hollow.
Above, the morning sun poured through the narrow alley like melted gold. Dust floated in the yellow light, making even the dirty ground seem pretty for a second. But only for a second. His eyes were too tired to focus—everything looked blurry, covered in a haze of light and shadows.
A sound came out from his stomach, begging for food, everything stiff, the same hard-cold floor beneath him. That's where he slept all day.
Then came the stench.
Rotting food. Stale piss. The metallic tang of something long dead. It coiled in the air, thick enough to choke on, He should have gagged. Should have retched. But his body no longer reacted. Numbness was his only armor.
A voice slithered into his skull, clawing at the edges of his consciousness.
"Wake…"
He stiffened. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing against his eardrums.
"...up."
He obeyed.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting. His clothes—whatever they were—were stiff with dirt, sticking to his skin.
From the mouth of the alley, he saw the world moving on without him, some wearing a hat and a jacket on, some were eye-shopping, a carriage with horse rattling the street was rode by an old man with passengers inside. Everyone is busy with their work, while the boy can't even do anything even he wanted to.
This world, magic was as natural as breath.
Magic and blood dictates social status.
The strong reveled in their supremacy, while the weak withered beneath their boots.
Magic, it ran through their blood, hummed beneath their skin, glimmered behind their eyes. Even the youngest child could summon a spark of fire.
Everyone.
Except him.
His existence was a silence in the midst of a chorus, an emptiness so vast it carved him hollow. Anonymous. Unseen. Unwanted.
They didn't know his name.
Neither did he.
He tried to remember something—a face, a voice, anything from before.
But there was nothing.
Only fog remains in his mind.
~
He wandered aimlessly down the street, the morning sun sharpening the edges of every shadow and the sky was turning to blue. The nameless boy, walking down the street seeing a store left and right and a mountain in the far distance that was barely blocked by fog. Eyes followed him with a look of disgust and anonymous as if he was a gutter rat that came out of hollow existence. The boy could only lower his gaze feeling inferior.
While walking down the street, he saw a girl with white hair and autumn-brown eyes wearing a noble dress. Behind, someone was following her and the anonymous person snatched her purse.
The thief bolted.
—MOVE!
Seeing it, instinct propelled him forward, he ran toward the thief, chasing it with the elbows grinding into cobblestone as they rolled. Then the thief grabbed something out of his pocket—his blade flashed.
SHINK
The boy barely dodged it but the blade hit his arm leaving it with a bleed.
In the distance, guards are already running towards it, and catch the thief, escorting him to jail.
The boy grabbed her purse from the floor and gave it to the girl.
"Here is yours"
"Thank you" replied the woman with a smile and bow down.
As I was about to leave—
"Wait" she grabbed his arm.
"Nameless boy: Huh?" he blinked at her, confused.
"???: I—I don't know how to repay you."
"Nameless boy: It's fine. Really. You don't have to—"
The words died in his throat. The street tilted violently. The world dissolved into swirling grey, then utter blackness.
"BRAK"
The boy fainted right away in front of her.