"It's cold. Am I dead? I thought the afterlife was supposed to be… hot."
Chase opened his eyes with great difficulty, his lids heavy and sore. Darkness greeted him—complete and suffocating.
"Damn. All I see is black. I guess I'm dead after all," he muttered, straining his eyes in vain to catch any hint of light.
A crooked voice interrupted the silence, dry and scratchy like it belonged to someone coughing dust.
"Brat, you're not dead. Yet. But you will be if you don't get your ass off that cold floor."
Chase flinched. The voice was real. He wasn't alone.
Only now did he feel it—the rough, freezing surface beneath him, hard against his chest. He groaned, pushing himself up with trembling arms. Every muscle ached.
He squinted again, still blind to everything around him. "Elder... could you turn on the lights? And, um... where am I?"
Several meters away, a man sat in the corner of the room on a wooden chair, chewing something with the slow indifference of someone watching the rain. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, handsome in a way that seemed unfair—his face clean, features sharp, dressed in a spotless white robe that didn't belong in a forest. The room they were in was square, about twenty meters across, its walls, ceiling, and floor all made of thick hardwood. A single window let in a sliver of moonlight, just enough to cast a faint silver glow. No furniture—just the chair and a small stool beneath the man's feet.
The man watched as the boy struggled to his feet.
Chase, twelve years old, was rail-thin, covered in dirt, dried leaves, and dried blood. His long black hair hung messily down to his shoulders, and his face, though strikingly handsome, was caked with grime. The strangest part was his eyes—pale gray, almost transparent, ringed with dried blood and dark circles. They stared blankly into the darkness.
The man finally spoke again, chewing lazily.
"Why so surprised you can't see anything? You're blind, brat. Have been for a while now, from the look of it. And you're in my house, in the middle of the forest."
The words struck Chase like a lightning bolt.
"Blind?" he whispered, stumbling backward. "No… that can't be… I… I'm a genius… I can't be… blind. Haha… ha…"
He laughed, but it cracked midway into something broken. Then he screamed.
He bolted toward the voice, tripping on the stool and crashing to the floor. Pain shot through his foot, but he ignored it and crawled forward, desperate. His hands found the man's legs. He gripped them tightly.
"Tell me you're joking, old man! I—I'm not blind! You're messing with me! Please!" His voice cracked again, then collapsed into sobs. "Please…"
Tears ran freely, mixing with the snot dripping from his nose. He clung to the man's pristine robe like a drowning child grabbing driftwood.
The man's expression twisted in mild disgust. "Ugh… Hey! Let go of me, dammit! You're getting your snot all over my leg. What the hell? Don't act like this just happened. From the way your eyes look, you've been blind for at least two months. So get a grip already—hey! Are you even listening?! Let go, brat!"
But Chase wouldn't let go. He cried until his voice was hoarse, and eventually… he fell asleep right there, clutching the man's ankle.
Mason Lu—the man with the crooked voice and spotless robe—sighed. He carefully picked the sleeping boy up, walked across the room, and laid him gently on a folded cloth he brought in from outside. Then, with surprising tenderness, he covered Chase with a thick blanket.
He squatted next to the boy and studied his face.
"Cute brat," he murmured. "But I was way more handsome at your age. Heh."
Then he stood, walked outside, and shut the door behind him.
Outside, Mason sat in a wooden recliner facing the moon. His black hair flowed gently in the night breeze. He closed his eyes as the cool wind kissed his face. The forest whispered around him—leaves rustling, distant animals calling, the steady hush of wind sweeping through trees. His little house sat alone in the woods, surrounded by dense foliage. Beside the main room where Chase now slept, there was a second room to the left and a small shaded kitchen space to the right, fenced off.
The peace of the night blanketed everything.
Hours passed.
The first light of dawn touched the sky, and the sun's rays painted the forest gold. Mason opened his eyes with a smirk.
"That brat sure sleeps a lot."
Right on cue, Chase rolled out of the doorway and landed with a thud on the grassy patch in front of the house. He grunted, sat up, and slowly extended his arms in front of him like a zombie, feeling the air.
Mason watched in amusement. "Follow my voice, brat. I'm over here."
Chase staggered toward the sound, still groggy.
"By the way," Mason asked casually, "when's the last time you took a bath?"
Chase scratched his head. "I think… about a week ago? I was dumped in this forest then, so… yeah, a week."
Mason's face froze. "A week?!"
In a blink, he vanished from his chair and reappeared beside Chase, grabbing the boy by the collar.
"H-Hey! Wait—!"
WHOOSH.
Chase felt the wind roar past his ears—and then, suddenly, air beneath him.
"SPLASH!"
He hit cold water like a sack of bricks.
Panicking for a second, Chase kicked his legs and floated back to the surface.
"W-Where am I?!" he shouted, sputtering.
"Lake," Mason said lazily from the shore, sitting on a rock. "Wash up, unless you want me to bathe you myself."
"…No thank you," Chase muttered, cheeks red.
He splashed around, scrubbing the grime off his body. The water was cool and refreshing, and soon he lost himself in it—laughing, splashing, enjoying the feeling. For a moment, he forgot he was blind. He was just a kid, playing in a lake.
Mason watched him with a small smile.
"He's still got spirit," he murmured. "Maybe I'll teach him a thing or two. And if he impresses me… maybe he can inherit your martial arts, old friend."
For just a second, another image overlapped Chase's—someone from long ago.
Eventually, Chase's voice rang out. "I'm done, Uncle!"
Mason chuckled. "Then come toward my voice again, brat."
Chase paddled over and climbed out of the lake, shivering. Naked, but unfazed.
Mason raised an eyebrow. "Your mind is a little too pure, kid."
Chase smiled toward the sound. "Hey, Uncle… what's your name?"
Mason stayed quiet for a moment.
Then, with a smirk in his crooked voice:"Mason Lu. But you can call me Master Lu."
Chase nodded. "I'm Chase Cloud… I was abandoned, so I guess it's just… Chase."